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The wine flowed from the bottle   as the words flowed from my pen. It was my best ever.   A match for the greats:   Kipling, Thomas and Henley. And one that my favourite, Bukowski Would be happy to say You matched me today. I celebrated my masterpiece With another glass of wine Before going to bed, joyous With the feeling I had created My Magnum Opus. In the morning I rose, Clear headed and happy with The memory of my creation. I read it again. It sounded different.   This was not the splendid verse I recalled. It was the ramblings of a drunken mind Bukowski would say Try again Man This is a pile of crap. Suddenly, I had a hangover.
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Mar 31, 2019
Mar 31, 2019 at 3:07 PM UTC
My Best Ever
The wine flowed from the bottle   as the words flowed from my pen. It was my best ever.   A match for the greats:   Kipling, Thomas and Henley. And one that my favourite, Bukowski Would be happy to say You matched me today. I celebrated my masterpiece With another glass of wine Before going to bed, joyous With the feeling I had created My Magnum Opus. In the morning I rose, Clear headed and happy with The memory of my creation. I read it again. It sounded different.   This was not the splendid verse I recalled. It was the ramblings of a drunken mind Bukowski would say Try again Man This is a pile of crap. Suddenly, I had a hangover.
phil-dodsworth
Written by
M/York, England
Mar 31, 2019
Mar 31, 2019 at 3:07 PM UTC
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