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Drink all unkindnesses through with *** creamy glugs
The rested brain of reason with senses drowned, with
No polished quality, nor with the beauteous likeness of tact!
The shift to jumbo laughs, till the song of drunkenness arrives
Come near, booming bounty! We’re the kindred who punch so high,
Like easy fools with faded heads, with a bottle-tease for Life
Our eyes blinker to the clippings of a soft-ochre melody,
Till the butting vows of deepest yearnings spill free
We wish to define our flying feet to straighten placement right
And with pulsing heads squirm to the Deed of liquor
Till it reaches slur-banter, and having nothing, fixing nothing,
We fall to the floor, our frolicked bodies sadly squatting
      Against the beating numbness, in reward for a dying mind
      Till rounded Time pats the lofty heart made once more sound
Inspired by getting drunk, then a hangover.
Meruem 3d
Lately I've been drinking a lot
Smoking near the parking lot
Alcohol for the wound
Nicotine to feel good
The next day I'll be sober
And hope it'll all be over.
December 15, 2018 - 18:24

San Miguel Pale Pilsen x Winston Blue.
Emily Apr 2017
between the concrete river
& the park where the bums share a bottle
wrapped in a brown paper sack,

there is a cul-de-sac of plastic houses
holding hands & sharing manicured lawns
wooden cars that don't even make any smoke
drive down gray asphalt streets.

fathers that tell mothers they have jobs
wear down street corners sharing beers with the bums,
like they already are one.

all these paper families rubbing shoulders
until everyone has paper cuts.
going home to dinner around a table full of paper love.

suburbia is flimsy
paper towns shining white
smiling neighbors & shared lawns
paper people slowly falling apart.

couples with their tongues down each other's throats,
midnight in supermarket parking lots
dribbling beer in the backseat
they bought off the bums.  

they say,
I love you, I love you, I love you.
until she leaves for a paper husband
& he leaves for a paper wife.

now they live on two separate cul-de-sacs
with the same cutout love,
as the parents they despised.

& when they have kids one day
they will tell them
never kiss before driving,
never befriend bums,
or guzzle cheap beer in backseats,
or on park swings.
& never settle for a paper husband
or a paper wife.


remembering the love
that was flimsy,
but never paper.

100,000 miles away from where they grew up
& 3,000 miles away from each other
3 kids each & plastic houses
rubbing shoulders & sharing lawns

living in a paper thin suberbia
chafing under their paper love.
inspired by "Paper Towns" by John Green
Just Maria Dec 5
A beer drinker I am not
I prefer tea nice and hot
I'll drink a soda once in a while
Cherry pepsi that's my style

As fas as coffee I will pass
Don't like the bitter taste it has
But apple juice is quite alright
Or a hot chocolate for a cold night

I think that water is the very best
For quenching a thirst it beats the rest
I could choose cold or I could choose hot
But a beer drinker I am not
Hundred bottles of beer on the wall
Buuurrrrpp, I mean one
No such thing as one beer! ever! ;D
The burp diesn't count as a word, much, some, not really, maybe.....
When he died we flew kites
in the wind. We didn’t, but
that was the feeling. Instead,
we stood on the sand and waited.

We waited for tides to change.
Currents gathered, as did blame.
Tears and raindrops fell. Windswept
Bantham in September wept.

As the strong swells retreated,
corpses of bottles – maltreated.
Uprooted and forcefully
sculpted. Glass misshaped cruelly.

From evenings of love here;
fire, green glass bottles of beer.
Or anger and resentment,
drinking through abandonment.

Now smooth chips of feelings:
light green or white shining.
Like shells of life’s remedies
and dead men’s memories.

When he died we flew kites.
Your “I miss you” were drowned deep to wine & beer.
My ears were drunk with all the words that poured in, it was intoxicating to hear.

I want to hear you speak,
Your voice is my favorite kind of sound that my heart wants to keep.

I can imagine how charming you are when you say those words like, “I miss you” and “Good night”.
It’s my only weakness that I cannot fight.

I hope that alcohol won’t wash away your memory. If it does, you know that I will still take the things that has been washed away.

It will become an unspoken treasure to me.
his name was Chino,
although I never met him,
I knew he had a job in HVAC
and he lived within walking
distance from where I worked
but I wasn’t interested in him though
I was interested in his girlfriend
and every morning as he would
leave to go bring heating and
cooling to all the townsfolk,
I would be getting off from
my overnight job to walk on
down to his house, sleep with
girlfriend, drink most of his beer
and eat his leftovers and I always
made sure to leave one bite left,
just to be an *******.

this went on sporadically for a few
months and according to his girl,
he was never suspicious of why
his beer and leftovers were gone
or why there wasn’t any love
for him when he got home but
eventually as time comes and goes
so did his girlfriend as she broke up
with him and moved out.

I was very contemptible
in those days,
not caring
what I had done to others,
not caring
what happened to me.
I was doomed and reckless,
carrying around my burdens,
paralyzed to the repercussions
and I thought if I unfurled my
pain and unhappiness onto
others like a welcome mat
it would make me feel better
or at least take away the
misery and grief
but it didn’t,
it just annexed more hatred
onto an already cruel world
and that was no one’s fault
but my own
but with a stronger, fitter,
healthier change of heart,
mind, soul, mood, personality
and attitude and a better
perspective on life
I became a higher quality
of being for myself
and onto others

and if I could take it all back
I would starting with getting
the opportunity to meet Chino
and drop him off some beer,
some food and hopes he found
someone who treats him better

because the girl
he was with
who didn’t,
I heard she found
someone else
who doesn’t.
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