He yelled he was hungry
As he crashed through the door
Stood there yelling and swaying
On the billet room floor
He demanded satisfaction
But as no one wanted to fight
He crashed back through the door
And out into the night
He’d said he was hungry
Said he needed to eat
He must have had a need
For a taste of raw meat
We saw him next morning
A penitent sort of thief
Returning to the cook house
With a side of frozen beef
He never got charged
For everybody swore
He’d found it that morning
Outside our billet door
An unsolved crime
Which cost him dear
With so many kleines
Of cool Pilsner beer
For a squaddie is a squaddie
The creed never heard
You never ever drop a fellow
Into the deepest merde
For a Rupert is a Rupert
And it always will be so
And sometimes there are things
No Rupert needs to know
Categories:
pilsner, drink, humor, memory, military,
Form: Rhyme
three hundred thousand unsmoked fags
since i took the plunge and stopped
i did it cold turkey mates, suffered as
my nicci levels plunged and dropped.
no nicci patches,
no nicci chewing gum,
no electric cigs,
good enough for some,
no therapies to help,
they just didn’t exist,
all those placebos
i so sadly missed.
so i went cold turkey mates
mainly through short cash
so why do i still dream of
lighting up, crashing the ash.
i dream i still smoke,
enjoy every single one
memories flooding back
from years long gone.
every single pilsner
accompanied by a ***
nothing quite like a grosse
and a long deep drag.
its sad really;
just a sick joke,
because in real life i just can’t
stand the smell of ciggie smoke.
i did it cold turkey mates, suffered
as my nicci levels plunged and dropped
three hundred thousand unsmoked fags
since i took the plunge and stopped
Categories:
pilsner, celebration, dedication, success,
Form: Rhyme
The bountiful harvest of today
The ease, the simplicity we’ve created in life
Ironically makes a man empty
Creates a mind full of strife
When enough is never enough
And we overachieve in all our needs
It's only a matter of time
We all reap the punishment of our dirty deeds
Depressed, stressed, and lonely
We live a life full of fear
Confused yet pompous
Sipping on an exquisite bohemian pilsner beer
We've over evolved
We can't handle the truth
We suffer miserably in uncertainty
Ignoring the scientific proof
So we take another bite
We smoke a little weed
We drink ourselves to death
Creating our own disease
The heavenly blessings we’ve acquired
Have become a devilish stew
With our genetic insatiable appetite
It's hard to swallow when you don't chew
The dichotomy of evolution
The conundrum of ease and living free
Is it a blessing?
I guess we'll have to wait and see
Categories:
pilsner, america, angst, anxiety, blessing,
Form: Rhyme
Tanka like
We the classless
seek no revolution, only fairness.
We like quality
a well- balanced diet
And cold German pilsner.
The stinking rich,
one assumes they do not have bath often,
can continue to pong.
We seek no egalitarianism
but cold German lager
and a comma -less life.
Categories:
pilsner, absence, adventure, angel,
Form: Blank verse
She was like Bordeaux,
a tall drink of spirit
He was more a hopped
pale lager like Pilsner,
both gorgeous and
super gingered flavors,
although clashing mid
respective savored aplomb,
one so refined the other
rowdy after hours,
yet they complimented
each other in the way
they blended their
drunken demeanors,
intoxicated by mere
existence of nature's
essential complexities
Categories:
pilsner, allegory, analogy, drink, funny
Form: Imagism
Under wounded light
I go back in time.
Pushing up doubts
Like bottle corks,
Worming to the point,
Knowing not what I seek,
I cross the bridge I am building to who-knows-where.
The past parades around the present
As I stand with eyes downcast,
Forgetting to look to the trees,
Where freedom flows like raindrops,
And the answer awaits like the sea.
Categories:
pilsner, beautiful, life,
Form: Free verse
stout or
porter
porter
or stout
I’ll weep
myself to
to sleep
if I have
to be without
my heart is as heavy
as my burdens are old
and neither find solace
in that lager served cold
I need something bitter
not a pilsner, too yellow
reserve that lighter brew
for a that happier fellow
I hope you don’t think
my words are too terse
for airing my druthers
with a rhyme and verse
but I tell you this man
I will have to make bail
if you fill up my glass
with an India Pale Ale
a beer dark and thick
with velvety bubbles
is the only thing that
will stifle my troubles
so be fast on the draw
but slow with the pour
if I wanted more head
I would get me a whore
and if I haven’t been clear
let me leave you no doubt
if you are serving me beer
I’ll take a porter, or stout
Michael F. Lewis
5/12/2013
Written at Main Street Brewery
Pleasanton, California
Categories:
pilsner, drink,
Form: Concrete
"Know yourself and you will win all battles" – Sun Tzu
Jesus of Suburbia, He
who hits rock bottom
with timely persistence,
gets HIGH
on the burning cross
of Drunken Hostility..
-THIS IS NOT A RELIGION;
St. Jimmy knows that
Monday's belittling unfolds
into Holsten-Pilsner-Fastbock sippin',
and something like
seven-day drug binges...
----> Still he awakens
in a pool of piss, LISTLESS,
and because the pills
are gone,
Jimmy claims to have lost
the will to go on
:{
He's done.
but. but. but. but. but. but...
The son of dusk
always resurrects at dawn...
SOBRIETY
returns to Earth
like Christ, or
the shittiest pop song.
*I should really go do some homework...*
Categories:
pilsner, allegory, dark, jesus, pain,
Form: Free verse
Shouldn't Pilsner glasses come in six packs?
Categories:
pilsner, imagination, on writing and
Form: Free verse