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I drink it
straight

I write 'em straight
to the point
bold, curvy, squiggly,
pressured or light
and oh
so transparent

Liquid courage
inked in my vessels

soft introductions
******* bodies
the outros
are mostly
unexpected

but they all
deserve a cigarette
afterwards
Through alcohol my words I stutter
So what if I've turned to another
Vice, don't look twice
On our mistakes, we were meant to break.

And I wish I could still please you
But now I look through
Our veils of betrayal and disappointments
Do you think we can still make amends?

Wish I'd been enough
Wish I didn't catch you laugh
On my pain
Can you handle the blame?
PERTINAX Nov 7
Spinning, out of control,
I can see the bottom
Gnarly hands dripping sinew
Grasping at my feet
Eager for me to join
Their twisted feast
Where hunger is not the mode
To satiate the emptiness
But a bitter thirst
To quench the infernal fires
That fed fuel to their burning desire
For me to join them in the abyss
Of loneliness built atop bones of pleasure
Piled up high with lost souls
Who were too weak to look up
And see the sky where birds fly
Or the trees and their lovely greens
A beautiful scene of all the things
Which will be left behind
If I continue to hide and not seek
The wonderful world beyond the drink

So, up I climb
Never to look back
Into the deep
There' a John locked up in this part of town
from 5 evening until 6 the next day,
Ambulances arrive for those who can't come-down
those slurring or crazy as they mumbling say.

There are still whispers abound of urban legends
like how Jake fought off seven police,
before they tasered & caved his face in,
He was guilty of of all seven deadly sins.

The bar's on fire in this early night,
with young ones on awkward first dates,
The young man's swooned by her bare flesh
so gorgeously tight and smelling so fresh.

And those playing darts are many years apart,
as mutton compared to strawberry ****,
this pub has all so finely unique,
At least it keeps most **** off the streets...
ivan Nov 4
father is part of my life
father gets home when the sun melts
father sits on his chair and drinks his glass
father yells at a broken glass
father sleeps on the couch
and doesn’t want to go to bed

‘why are you like this?’
father said.
‘you’re made of glass!’
father said.

when the moon is high
father looks at it
he says that reminds him of glass
is it the clear glass?
or is it the dark glass from your drink, dad?

father likes the moon
maybe he sees the light of it when he looks at his drink
its scary
seeing the liquor burn father’s throat
its scary
seeing the dad that loved me
say he’ll give up on me
Lizzie Bevis Oct 10
The bottle, your loyal companion,
Numbing your pain and fuelling your vice.
Dragging you deeper into the abyss,
Evading the value of your precious life.

Each warm sip, a false promise of solace,
Betraying your heart and ravaging your mind.
Shackled by the chains of hard addiction,
You become a prisoner to demons so unkind.

The cheer of old times fades to silence,
As the light in your eyes slowly dies.
Unsteady with no anchor to ground you,
Treading a sea of lonely unsettled demise.

You tell me you want to break free,
To see the world through sober eyes,
But the waves keep pulling you under,
As you drown in whiskey's tragic goodbye.

©️Lizzie Bevis
Àŧùl Oct 29
Depression can affect you.
When things go against you,
Or they go unexpectedly away,
But don't blow your heart away,
All this is temporary, you know,
When you know, you know,
So, don't cry over things.
However, take care,
If you lose yourself,
You won't know.
It will be known,
To you unknown,
And to the world,
It will be known.
It is the whiskey,
To you, it is risky.
But take care of your liver.
If it fails, after all the abuse,
You wouldn't get your glass,
The Precious Evening Glass.
My HP Poem #2015
©Atul Kaushal
Lena Oct 23
As my body steeps,
Bones infuse,
Organs dissolve;
All I can do is hope
That I’ll add something
To this cocktail of greed.
Y'know, alcohol is actually a great metaphor for capitalism and human greed in multiple ways. Anyways here's one of them!
I used to wonder, used to judge,
How lives unravel, how souls begrudge,
How bottles cradle shattered dreams,
And promises fade like distant screams.

Whiskey was a word I spoke
With distant pity, a careless joke,
"Why not fight?" I'd boldly say,
But now I see how hope can fray.

Life rushes in, swift as a flood,
Dreams turned to dust, hearts bruised with blood.
I’ve seen the years slip through their hands,
Plans abandoned like drifting sands.

I don’t seek whiskey's cold embrace,
But now I see the tender space
Where some give in, where strength subsides,
Where the light dims and courage hides.

I used to judge the broken years,
The quiet falls, the stifled tears,
Those who reach their twilight days
With tangled paths and unhealed frays.

But now I know—how life can bend,
How even giants break and bend,
It’s not the weakness I once scorned,
But silent battles left unmourned.

Yet still, I rise, though skies grow dim,
With heavy heart and trembling limb,
To chase the stars, to stand my ground,
To seek the dreams that still resound.

I understand why some give in,
Why whiskey calls beneath the din,
But I’ll face the storms that scar the land,
No whiskey in this steady hand.

For I have learned the weight they bear,
The silent grief, the whispered prayer,
And though I walk through nights untamed,
I’ll keep my fire, unashamed.
I used to judge adults and the ones who came before me but now I see their stories etched in shadows, not of ignorance but of life's cruel toll. Through my own trials, I've learned that wisdom is woven in scars and understanding flourishes in the soil of experience. Life comes at you fast.
MetaVerse Oct 13
There once was a gal from Zumbrota
(A city in Minnemesota)
     Who drank in a bar
     And then got in her car
And crashed it while smoking some mota.
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