Long Guzzle Poems
Long Guzzle Poems. Below are the most popular long Guzzle by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Guzzle poems by poem length and keyword.
I
A right became an unexpected left;
Nothing more important than subliminal
country miles that pulled me forward,
no destination or thought to why,
just my surprise. Some ten miles gone,
I felt a ray of grace; the reason
for this race, and as I chased a trace
of errant time – I thought of a line.
I felt a now in my existence,
and shared a smile with the corn silk
light that fed my way, and the wind
that blew the hair around my face.
A chance to share some thoughts of mine,
Within the realm of reason, street and rhyme.
II
Once upon a time, in Everyday,
the minutes and hours of the human
condition, the hopes and dreams, sadness
and screams, the cries of sedition,
the plight of the lost, intolerance
and ignorance, expressions of love
for country and man, were duly recorded
by a poet's hand, a composer who scored the lay
of the land. And mouth to ear, where needed,
we shared his composition, in celebration
of the word's intended mission-
food for thought. And then it stopped.
We gave poetry away to obscurity,
to the teachers of form and craft,
who slipped overboard in their zeal
to define the titles for the times,
of what is a "must read", for greed,
and intellectualizing need,
to feed their egos and their jobs.
Indeed.
With speed, they redefined
and refined the voice of inspiration;
imagination served with a mutant strain
of peas. Poetry beyond the realm
of good digestion, the cause
of painful indigestion in the mind.
They built a world of poetry,
that will never sing a child to sleep;
Mutant peas engender nightmares
in the young.
III
She said,
"I love the way my body moves when I read Seuss."
(For any traditional poet, this mom's good news)
"But what of street, the beat and passion;
the march of voices crying to be heard,
the visualizations from a well-wrapped word?
Can you read one and exclude the other;
is it all about the prize and what's in fashion?"
"No, it's about what I like. Last night,
I drank in Whitman's leaves, with a little
Shakespeare chaser. and tonight, I might
guzzle Ginsberg and savor Kerouac
like a fine wine in meandering
subconscious streams."
Who could disagree with her taste in words?
So I drank a little more Baudelaire and went
to sleep myself.
Form:
It's gettin' late and
we couldn't wait.
Me and Ma just downed 12 cold beers.
It's seven o'clock
and we both are crocked.
And my drug dealer’s fi-nal-ly here.
My ole Dad’s a stinkin’ like
a skunk who’s been binge drinkin’
as my poor Mom slumps in her chair.
My sister looks hot
after smoking some pot.
I’m hoping that she’ll surely share-a!
OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! –
C'mon and give me some medications!
I've had it with your saccharine!
Whoa! Saturday Night's alright for sleeping.
Getta little shut-eye in.
Gonna be as sleepy as Van Winkles brain.
Gonna set my clock – yeah, right!
Cause Saturday Night’s tonight, goodnight!
Saturday Night’s tonight – Goodnight…Goodniiiiiiight!
Woooooooh!Oooooooh!Ooooh!Ooooh!Ooooh!
Well I’m whacked fairly tight
and feeling light.
Taking one more Percocet will do me right.
I may slug some Robitussin
and suck-in some weed.
Popping three more oxycontins will be
all I’ll need!
A couple-of-a drugs that are really keen
Are Sominex and Nytol
with doxylamine.
I'm a juvenile junkie who hasn’t any class
Watching Motrin PM tablets
fizz in a glass.
OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! –
C'mon and give me some medications!
I'm tired of potassium!
Saturday Night's alright for sleeping.
Getta couple Zzzz-Zzzz’s in.
Gonna guzzle Ny-Quil ‘til I feel no pain.
Pullin’ down my shades real tight.
Cause Saturday Night’s tonight, goodnight!
Saturday Night’s tonight – Goodnight…Goodniiiiiiight!
Oooooooh!Oooooooh!Ooooh!Ooooh!Ooooh!
Saturday…Saturday!
Saturday…Saturday…Saturday!
Saturday…Saturday…Saturday!
Saturday Night, goodnight!
Saturday…Saturday!
Saturday…Saturday…Saturday!
Saturday…Saturday…Saturday!
Saturday Night, goodnight!
WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
For: Mr. John Heck
Dear John contest - Elton John (music)/Bernie Taupin (lyrics)
Sung to the tune of: Saturday Night's Alright For Fighting
The Sounds of Silence
By: Simon & Garfunkle
Hello darkness, my old friend
I've come to talk with you again
Because a vision softly creeping
Left its seeds while I was sleeping
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence
In restless dreams I walked alone
Narrow streets of cobblestone
‘Neath the halo of a streetlamp
I turned my collar to the cold and damp
When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light
That split the night
And touched the sound of silence
And in the naked light I saw
Ten thousand people, maybe more
People talking without speaking
People hearing without listening
People writing songs that voices never share
No one dare
Disturb the sound of silence
And the people bowed and prayed
To the neon god they made
And the sign flashed out its warning
In the words that it was forming
And the sign said “The words of the prophets
Are written on the subway walls
And tenement halls
And whispered in the sounds of silence
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ciERzSFRwzk
---------------------------------------------------------
With a Little Salt and Lime
Hello Jose my old friend
I've come to guzzle you again
The party started before afternoon
I started sipping on you far too soon
My last SENTENCE I fear was slightly slurred
(Vision blurred)
Forgot to EEEET----my breakfast
They look with pity upon me
'Can't hold his liquor', they agree
Now I'm weaving when I try to walk
Senseless babble when I try to talk
Then I feel the NEEEED to flee to an old-oak-tree
(To heave and pee)
but cannot LOOOZE---- my breakfast
Did not like his tone at all
Got myself into a brawl
I quickly put him in his rightful place
Broke his knuckles with my pretty face
Shoulda’ had my OOOATS but didn't so alas!
(I kiss the grass)
and now my ASSSS----is breakfast
In the morning I awake
moaning with a bad headache
Bright-sun glaring through the window pane
I whine and whimper in my wretched pain
In the next room a TV-is-blaring
and screams in my pounding-ear
(No thank you dear)
Believe I'll PASS on----breakfast
*Moral of the story: Never drink before noon OR on an empty stomach...
As I rounded the hill
Face to face with the still
That I'd only heard rumors spoke of
With no one around
I sat myself down
And proceeded to sample the stuff
As sweet as honeydew melon
Got my feet to a geling
Made me feel like I did in my youth
Sat with a dumb gaze for a while
Then got the biggest of smiles
When it came to me what I should do
So I went with my plan
And opened a stand
Right there on the mountain side
When word in the forest got out
I never had any doubt
That all of the critters would be stoping by
You should have seen them all guzzle
As the squirrels ordered doubles
Then proceeded to tell wild nutty lies
It was quite the fiasco
When they brought out the cowboy hats and lasso's
As the party went well into the night
They paid in nuts and berries
Which was fine by me
With them I made different flavors of shine
In flavors I made 32
So I wouldn't get sued
By Baskin-Robbins who has 31 at this time
From all the flavors I made
Boysenberry was the fav
The raccoons made up a dance called the boysenberry crawl
Which was a big hit
At the discotheque
The beavers built in the early fall
We made a deal
I would sell them my swill
For a little piece of the pie
We were all getting rich
I have to admit
It's quite the relationship, the beavers and I
Of course the beavers got greedy
You know how beavers are needy
Couldn't leave well enough alone
Figured they had the right
Who's going to pay for these lights
That make this the best disco in town
They started charging a cover
Which didn't go over
As well as they would have liked
Plus they doubled the price of the booze
Which left little food
On the woodland creatures tables at night
Things went from bad to worse
When they started to curse
Me, "The Man" for the troubles they had
I barely made it out alive
By the skin of my hide
When I packed and hit the road mighty fast
Things had been going so well
Before it all went to hell
And me and my still were forced to leave
Now still to this day
You know why I always say
That famous line, passed down in time
"Leave it to Beav"
Seeking and finding my own self has been my constant quest,
Like a traveler in the desert, my thirst has no rest;
Digging deep, my strength gets drenched, leaving me pitiable,
Wells within seem empty and void as though lamentable!
A name I have, for namesake, though so preciously given,
Life-cart, though with rough and tough movements, often self-driven;
Possessions, some given some earned, all seeming so silly,
Something for far above often my depths calls me deeply!
Knowledge, strength, power and wealth seem boringly tiring me,
Eating and drinking and sleeping and waking have no glee;
In my smiles, laughs, cries, and weeps… my quest, like the full moon, glows,
In care, share, love, loss - like a swelling stream - quest overflows!
Why am I born? Why do I exist? What is my great goal?
What is my physic? What is my psyche? What's the sole soul?
What should I think? What should I speak? How should I act and react?
Why should I admire? Why should I abhor? Is quest my pact?
The sea I see do not wake waves in response to my quest,
The forests and deserts cover all treasures at my zest;
The earth and cosmos cloak their secrets like history-scrolls,
Heavenly wonders too keep answers hidden in their souls!
In hills and vales and caves and mountains I search my being,
Before saints and sages seeking my true self, I'm kneeling;
Arrays of archives, books, and almanacs give no answer,
My quest seems to eat my interiors like blood cancer!
In this quest for existence, span spent is whole life and more,
Some little grains; more of chaff; the rest have no proper score;
The question - what's life? - remains, yet, like an unsolved puzzle,
I drink from my wells, yet, never quenched, find me still guzzle!
Inner yearning to know me wholly ablaze like wildfire,
Will this be calm and the truth comes to stay when I retire?
This quest was, in me, inborn before my birth in the womb;
Will I be able to quench it before I reach my tomb?
30 September 2021
''Q'' Contest, NEW ONLY Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
I seize time when funky drummer songs break
into my body robbing feeling of nerves making me fly
off floors with hips bouncing and shoes sweeping soot on concrete
I leave my history on any ground wherever I scuff my hands
and greet earth beneath me made of cement and sand
roughening calluses in
my upper palm and never do I feel more alive in
doing anything other than breaking
dancing on the floor that my fingers sand
with blood thrashing through my veins till I push and fly
legs flailing toward the moon; only my hands
feel this field of concrete
within the hour, ridges of concrete
rub against my knuckles as I guzzle in
air gasping for breaths that hit my hands
feeling this warmth pat me does nothing more than break
any possibility that I might be dreaming, flying
somewhere or dead drifting with sand
dirt smears its calligraphy in an ink of sand
when my shoes scrape concrete
markings on the floor inscribe stories and time flies
I see scratches my palms and shoes make in
a canvas of floors where I dance till the break
of dawn meditating with music, the bandage of my hands
I read life through my hands
brush rubble or throw sand
dancing off feelings of being lonely breaking
nostalgia of home because I can find that in concrete
the ground teaches me of pain on my skin or inside
my mind as I wander into a song flying
and falling over pebbles that gash my flesh blood flying
all directions and while wiping blood from my hands
I feel my age seeping the years I keep anxiety in
on a path of exhaustion counting thuds of my heart with sandpaper
hands I forge on concrete
I will slide-spin-tap the floor in harmony breaking
my life into stories of me dancing in all worlds I touch, showing the world my broken
rhythm in handling pain with hands pressed on floors people walk on in concrete
cities where I fly into freedom, puffing out, dying breaths, and taking all, breaths of life, in
With the Nepotism in my planet, essentially in my land, life compels
And factual morals are forgotten. Ancestors way of living are forbidden
By the rules we live in today.
What’s happening in our society?
Flash is made to capture, to imprison,
Not to poison and abolish every tale we ever had.
I sense discomfort when I glimpse defiance of young in open, forgive me but i
Feel pain when I see the future walking in distress; giving their lives in return for a good life.
Give them credit, but our lives were much easier before.
Simplicity is no supplementary.
But not everyone who’s involved wants to,
Pleasure is the case, dissatisfaction is the face, eish did I say it’s the pace?
Wait a minute
Facing my demons with abstemious eyes, doesn't add up, I need a fluid to go through
The night, where’s my pint to nip the tank of my thanks.
I’m jaded, guzzle, gulp facilitate
Slurp!
It kills me to be unable to maintain my being,
Without sentiment awkwardness,
But little voices say…
‘Just be intoxicated, without any guiltiness’.
My hero dies in vein, my mother stress in pain, and my friends suffer in shame,
I didn't do it, but the hunger for more led me to desire more.
Everyone’s scrip end is thrilled, but in one way or another,
there is a season for everything.
Life goes on, I’m a young woman. I’m different, I’m a lion and
I’m in control.
I may not be the most courageous, boldest, and smartest,
But god gave me a voice and a pen,
I refuse to be the statistic, the common, and the everyday indict,
I refuse to be them, they, us, and we, I choose to be “I” alone.
I am a woman, a lion,
This is not the time to point fingers,
This is the time to raise my left arm and say I am a woman,
stray the shy of my spry.
Heroes always live, but
Hero die in this one, because this is war.
Try a brisk walk at night,
Igniting fire through ice,
It might burn, bite or beat you,
But you'll swear it feels nice.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Stare back at a stranger,
If their look starts to burn,
You'll notice their angst,
Once they know it's your turn.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Don't reach to extinguish,
Your ignited tobacco,
Across dinners or drinks,
As ashes fall in de facto.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Two drunks at a bar,
If smarmy, cheap males,
Will cease to exist,
By all mammals or females.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
If you guzzle or sip,
It goes down just the same,
And the only true difference:
The length of your game.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Don't drink and drive,
You can't go very far,
Because the door you can't open,
Psst, isn't your car.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Have sex with a friend,
Maybe two, three or four,
If you don't, someone might,
And next time, they'll ignore.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Ask Marco, wine guru,
If it tastes good or bad,
The next you select,
You'll ferment, just a tad.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
If you smoke on the job,
Remember to render,
The air, clean and free,
Before returning to sender.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
When two lesbians chat,
They display their demeanor,
Without reference or rapture,
For your decadent wiener.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Pouring more than you drink,
Is considered a virtue,
Because reversing osmosis,
Can only just hurt you.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
If you're gay and you know it,
Show those not, some respect,
Keep it reverent and subtle,
Spare us all when erect.
(12/30/01)
we all suffer from fatigue
we all suffer from pain
we all suffer mood changes
we all suffer personality changes
we all positive and negative
we all withdraw from
we all obsessive about
we all abused and abusers
we all harm ourselves and others
we all seek physical and psychological pleasure
we all take prescription medicines
we all know that there is not a straight border between illness
we all know that there's not a straight border in Cardiology
we all know that there's not a straight border in Urology
we all know that there's not a straight border in Mental illnesses
we all know that there's not a straight border in Medicine(s) (s)
we all have a power deeply strong in
we all blot on
we all receive into the mind and retain
we all take in something
we all take in
even metaphorically
we all assimilate
consume
soak up
sop up
belt down
guzzle
we all kill like cigarettes with our concluding actions of defeat
we write quickly afraid of,
life is like Sports where we all want to score the most
in our search for the New we want to differentiate dissimilate
We all want to be very positive in our features and attributes
we all have our dues
we all want the best for the other
we all linked
we all care about
we all have our causes
we all have the right to a better tomorrow
we all wish the best to our friends,
we all want to help the disadvantaged
But are we listening to our power that unmistakable guide us along the path of life, Our love, truth and abundance,
Are we following it?
Are we close to others?
Are we respecting the natural environment?
or we all do the above as climbers,
kidnapping the flame opting-show off (commercial also)
replacing Power for an aim leaving the traits in oneself-locked
'Twas the night before Christmas, I’d forgotten the sprouts
So I sent out a plea to the local boy scouts
I’d remembered the crackers, the turkey and ham
but my guests would expect sprouts, so I was in a jam
The scout leader admitted that I was in a pickle
and he said my family were all somewhat fickle
I said Uncle Bert just adored eating brussels
then he’d fart for days with his lax sphincter muscles
The scout leader had a plan, it is so well thought out
He'd call each scout’s mother to donate just one sprout
Every scout hurries round with one sprout in their hands
soon I have plenty of veg to sate my guest’s demands
On Christmas Day the relations ring my door bell
Pat barges into my kitchen; she makes my life hell
At one time she cooked meals for guys in the Navy
So she has to check if there are lumps in MY gravy
On the stroke of one o’clock I dish up the food
Uncle Bert belches loudly, that man is so rude
They devour all the turkey and round stuffing balls
By the end of the main course I’m climbing the walls!
They don’t offer to help, so I fetch the dessert
Uncle Bert drips brandy butter all over his shirt
Then they guzzle the cheese and finish the wine
Bert then farts profusely, he’s a disgusting swine
Then we sit round the TV to listen to the Queen
Bert’s eaten too much, his face has turned green
Pat gives me a present, of a hand knitted jumper
It’s three sizes too big, I just want to thump her
They’ve descended on me these last fifteen years
I ask if they’ll reciprocate, my words fall on deaf ears
They never say thank you, they drink all my booze
Next year they can whistle, I’m booking a cruise!