Long Drunken Poems
Long Drunken Poems. Below are the most popular long Drunken by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Drunken poems by poem length and keyword.
Dear younger me,
There are some things that I would say
to help you out along the way:
mistakes I’ve made and deep regrets,
things I would change you’ve not seen yet.
Dear older me,
All that seems nice,
but let’s hold back on that advice.
It may be true,
but I’m not sure you’ve thought this through.
Dear younger me,
Are you for real? Surely you jest!
I’ve had more time, and I know best.
The cost was dear: real sweat and blood.
Why would you choose to traipse the mud?
Dear older me,
Wake up somehow!
I’m worried ‘bout my future now.
I’ve played this game to some degree;
did not see you in future me.
Dear younger me,
But I could share: go buy this stock,
lay off the booze, don’t go in hock.
Just stop and think of where you’d be;
The best part is, the lesson’s free.
Dear older me,
Great multiverse!
The situation’s getting worse!
Just hold your tongue and say no more
or I am headed out the door.
My future is not yours to share;
the way is fraught with danger there.
Dear younger me,
Now I’m confused; help an old man.
Explain this out; that’s if you can.
Dear older me,
I’ll do my best, but just so far,
for I’ll not go past where you are,
for much of what I know as true
might change if I change future you.
You hope to spare my heart the ache
and help me choose the path to take.
The problem is, when I arrive,
what you call you won’t be alive.
Decisions made all shape and mold
the man we are when we grow old.
Just think, if we had stayed in school
and not become a drunken fool,
would we have ever reached wit’s end
and learned the broken also mend?
Would we have met our lovely wife,
and settled in your present life?
Dear younger me,
Gouge out my eyes!
I’m blind and dumb and you are wise.
I had my doubt, but I can say
Let go, let God, we’ll be okay.
Light in darkness
Why in the world do you bother? I’ll never be your Prince.
You’re getting all hot and bothered,
But you’ll never get my intimate kiss.
Your lies flow around like a red river;
The bodies are all up stream.
I’ll never be your sinner and you’ll never be my everlasting Queen.
Visions flash by like a drunken night star-ship.
Diamonds fall down from the sky.
Lights scream at me when the world turns dim.
Metaphors talk in my dreams each and every night.
Liver’s continue their dancing; I’m all alone in this place.
Everyone goes to the happening;
Find the truth on my vacant blank face.
I’m dancing inside! Outwardly portraying the end.
You’ll never be my one bride; life has taken away all that ‘Let’s pretend’.
Words are easily manipulated; I write in blood, sweat and tears.
I never claimed I would become the greatest,
But this rock has rolled for years and more years.
Time is a fleeting illusion, I once possessed inside my hands.
I live in a head of confusion, where all I do is all that I can.
Dangerous times call for changes; musical mind clocking in.
Lyrics are filling the empty pages;
Deeper and deeper I’m sinking down in it.
Fires are burning all around, lighting the darkest night.
Earth is The Devil’s playground
And I’m down on my knee’s searching for the right light.
A God in a world of fantasy; imagination my only truth.
You are the drug that I cannot handle.
You keep me moving; you push me through.
(C)2019 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Twilight dawning eyes open
as the heather bleat sings
Into the coming night's dream
Crickets ticking away in the long grass
swaying thoughts drunken sailor sails
time stands still for a moment peace
Falsely promises defaced
As meaningless flowers wither
Where inside silence hides the guiding truth
Behind a mask consumed
cowering away seeds
Crocodile tears
Planted inside another's hurt
falls guilty within the pain
that kisses the burning fire
Where everything is twisted ill to suit
Dressed up as something real
where caring becomes the least important gesture
It's here where the barriers fall shut
Sharing stops when condemning bites with hate filled ideas
Communication dies away were hidden agendas lay
A bridge over troubled waters
to cross this divide rocky desert winds howl
Storm in a teacup stirring
That someone created friction
for no good reason or another
clouds descend heavy laden
To feel good
about themselves
hurting another love
They become the stepping stone
unto pain inflicted grief
Reflections ripple casting shadows of doubt over
Direction, in deed.
Badges, sacraments, war, union, they all are offshoots of
what in belief we. IN-Operational reciprocity, inverse, are like chemical components in reaction to say sobriety, walking the line. Not crossing it in drunken disrespect of pride, lust, greed. Or clan of self, alone in lawlessness. From life, self- banned from the clan.
See belief symbolizes the virtues, as they show their rite (right) to be.
In you, the union, the reason, of the law of the light to be shined by the science of supernatural King authority. Rite? Right. That's why Saints have powers. The Sacrament or law and promise of what is sacred under God, (King author, authority, judge
and loves poet, lawmaker, we need to esteem) shining his badge and our badge, upon our belief. To esteem is to believe in humility, justice and respect of someone else's self, so that there can be Union, a sacramental marriage of
all these things. Purity, chastity, charity, faith, hope, all witnesses and support at the wedding and the greatest Being love, it is the ring bearer under the light of this beauty, the High Priest and a bride itself, of belief. But not of itself, but by another's deem. The authority to God to esteem. Where passion is the Queen. Passion is another story. For another long read.
.......where am I?
A cover’s no way to judge a book
The first few words is all it took
To open up the memory chest
Of a dark past so long suppressed.
Like a dog let off its lead
The words are sticks I must retrieve
To read of someone else’s pain
The threats, the violence and the shame.
Lying curled up in a ball
Drunken menace in the hall
Racing heart cannot prevent
Looming shadow, no consent.
Calloused hands move from neck to arms
Leave no bruise or signs of harm
“I didn’t hurt you, you are mine
Say no again, I will next time”.
Each leaf turned brings back a time
When this memoir echoed mine
Tale unfolds upon each page
Tells of horrors, threats and rage.
I can’t take this anymore
Throw the book down on the floor
Sitting reading will not stop
All the heart ache and the rot.
If someone loves you, they won’t do
All these dreadful things to you
No person should endure this hell
Stop it now, it’s time to tell.
“How shall I speak of the Whole, which is non-dual? How shall I speak of the Whole, which is of the nature of duality? How shall I speak of the Whole, which is eternal and non-eternal? I am the nectar of Knowledge, homogeneous Existence, like the sky”
Be the truth visible or invisible,
whether as manifest or unmanifest,
consciousness is one and indivisible,
pervading all that is, yet always at rest.
Bereft of attributes, Self shines in its light,
beyond space and time, poised in drunken delight,
recognised as vibrance in the heart centre,
the quintessence of life, where bliss beats canter.
McGee was needin' a drop you see
So he headed on down to the pub
But as he arrived, he heard a small voice
Say " Don't go into that club"
Turning around there he had found
A Nun with her fist in the air
Saying "Don't you know that drinkin' a sin,
A sin your soul can not bare,
And besides that too, it'll rot you guts
Your liver, your teeth and you brain
And if you were smart, if you'd walk away
And never touch it again".
So, McGee then asked the little bold Nun
" Have you ever had even a taste?"
The Nun replied "Of course I've not!"
" Then Sister you haven't a case,
How can you judge, if you're not tried,
You're unqualified, That's what I think"
"Ok "said the Nun "I guess I try one,
But, as long as you go get the drink"
Ok said McGee," What shall it be"
The Nun said "I only know Gin"
McGee said fine, I'll be back in no time.
Wait here, and I'll just pop in"
McGee walked briskly up to the bar
Where he order a pint for himself
The asked for a cup of Gin to go
And make it the best on the shelf
The barman pulled the pint for McGee
Then gave his chin a rub
Said, "Now, don't tell me that drunken Nun
Is still out in front of me pub!
He walks right through the wall and bounces of the air,
the ideal is the greatest reality as compulsive fair.
Some minds nail the ideal to the cross for depart,
as the ideal once is dissolved from a love drunken heart.
Then those ideals will have wrinkle and aching pain,
when those star fetched orientations shine in vain.
The danger of fanatic idealism ends in self pity,
even when the intellect feels so witty.
The reality of the ideal a soap opera for sure,
experience out of this is the parody to endure.
Fixed ideals the narrow obelisk of will,
haunting graveyards at midnight still.
For some it’s plenty to live by,
the idea and the love to lie.
Welcome divine ideal and destroyer of the world,
when greatness becomes emptiness unfurled.
The modern world ruled by ideals to find,
the tragedy of who is who lost in human kind.
The over stimulated fatalisms as art,
with no intolerance from the heart.
Millions of ‘ifs’ at the twilight dawn beach,
because nature has that magical promise reach.
Dad, born into white-hot poverty
eldest son of an adulterous drunk
abandoned
man of the house at five
white privilege.
His stepfather, also a booze bunny and bigot to boot...
To escape, he went to vocational school
as all the poor waifs did back in the day.
white privilege....
Married too young, a couple of sons...
was promised a job out west,
By all of people, the adulterous drunk...
3000 dreamy miles later.
With two small boys swirling in the prospectors' pan
but all the gold had vanished by then
white privilege.
He managed to make ends almost meet
with shovels for hands, soul of concrete.
white privilege
We survived in a one-bedroom, converted chicken coop.
At the age of twenty-two, he was crowned the king of desperation.
Supported all of us without any complaint, including the deadbeat, Uncle Frank.
White privilege.
Divorced, he lost custody of his doves.
Months beyond broke, he staggered back home.
Into the embrace of, you guessed it, the same drunken bigot.
White privilege.
Deadly happenstance brought us all back together again.
For forty years he wore the burning wreath
of back-breaking gigs on cinderblock dreams.
2 steps forward, 2 and a half back
One foot in the grave, the other on a snot rag
His ledger, never in the black.
White privilege,
Four decades, he earned the right
to hang up the shovel and pan.
The concrete settling into the joints
of his bent turtle hands.
Willing us away from poverty's fangs.
White privilege.
Soon after he retired. Mr. C arrived.
For three long years he battled and survived.
With Veins still flooded with benzene rings.
He had a blind date with open-heart surgery.
White privilege.
Old battleaxe versus scythe, he fought off the reaper.
Only to bury his mom, whom he loved very deeply.
The next to go was his beloved son.
White privilege.
He's not quite out of that shadow.
But I think he'll make it back to reclaim that glow.
It's been a privilege to have known such a bright angel soul.
That privilege has nothing to do with color.
After debauched dearth of scorched earth & Aussie mirth
New Gay opener in the berth & Ollie back to surf the turf
Bazball less gall but more girth a rebirth but what’s it worth?
“Lack of nous is now notorious
More cat less mouse us furious
They say will try to do laborious
In house be bit more studious
About game’s history curious
No tantra mantra is spurious
“Bazball” is in the thesaurus
Moan it is prone to bore us
No more lone tyrannosaurus
Crazy tone like I am a Walrus
Toil of Sisyphus & boil of Icarus
Obstreperous schlep to leprous
Horn shorn a blunted rhinoceros
Hunted stunted shunted corpus
Sunken drunken hippopotamus
Wet beset with regret so porous
Raucous ruckus need new caucus
Mac attack Bull too full of Taurus
Cruel winter as they all lost focus
Plans to be a sprinter were bogus
Ken Baz & Ben splinter the onus
Dump us after screaming rumpus?
Key thick dreaming hocus pocus
Fans stick sick streaming mucus
So pick a well known local locus
Go to town not clown at a circus
Survives revives is a new crocus
Forlorn past forsworn vocal chorus
Reborn alive strives thrives..Lazarus
Our sown homegrown magnus opus?