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Amer Pelides May 19
Lost in the rabble and drunk in the street,
Drowning in beer and gnawing fresh meat,
This is the way all men should live,
Leaving nothing behind like flour through a sieve,
Give me one reason why I should care?
Watch me dance and show off my flare,
The world burns and leaves everything in ash,
I don't give a hoot and to prove it I'll give you a flash,
I'm having fun and don't you dare judge me.
Nigdaw Apr 23
do you want anything
from the shops
she said
it used to be pizza and beer
nowadays just
you home safely
my love
Autumn Fyre Apr 21
What is this mood, this feeling that I can't find a single word to describe?
I only know it as the feeling of a summer's eve,
But not just any lazy afternoon;
It's the one where the dusk has just set in,
And some whining fly needs swatted away every once and awhile;
And children come riding home on their bikes from the river with a tackle box and sometimes - just sometimes - a fish,
Upsetting the dog confined behind a white picket fence;
And clinking of dishes and strains of laughter creep along with the yellow light out through the screen door and across the grass,
To where the men sit around a crackling fire in dingy lawn chairs,
Joking and talking and sharing the love of mankind over beers.
But perhaps it isn't just the light, but also a ***** child
Who thought his father's lap would save him from his mother and a bath.
After scrubbing off the layers of bug-spray and a day spent in play,
To climb a wonderfully weary body into cool sheets,
And to fall asleep to the sound of an oscillating fan and the peeping frogs and the feel of a mother's kiss and the slow rotating of the stars --
That is the most wonderful feeling in the world.
Memory for most people means images, but our senses of smell, taste, sound, and touch are actually are strongest memories. We tend to associate certain feelings or people with these senses, so it's so hard to capture the feeling of summer in a single word; for every person it means a different thing.
Dvali Taytem Apr 19
I do not know how many years I was terrified of the Titan
It spit in my face the stink of ancient beer
Clogged my nostrils with smoke and massive fingers
As if to rip off my nose
As if to crush my bendy bones in its fists
All the while hollering
For more
And less
And itself

I only know that now
I have seen other
Things
Than it
Things with far more power than it
Things that howl louder than
The Titan
I have risen to meet them
I have looked in their eyes
As I brought
     them
To kneel before
     me
Have brought them
To know fear

Soon I shall make battle again
With the great beast from some hell of its own
It does not yet know
To be afraid
Written around 7:00 AM, 4/19/20.
Edits around 10:00 AM.
Small Tales
by Michael R. Burch

When Artur and Cai and Bedwyr
were but scrawny lads
they had many a ***** adventure
in the still glades
of Gwynedd.
When the sun beat down like an oven
upon the kiln-hot hills
and the scorched shores of Carmarthen,
they went searching
and found Manawydan, the son of Llyr.
They fought a day and a night
with Cath Pulag (or a screeching kitten),
rousted Pen Palach, then drank a beer
and told quite a talltale or two,
"till thems wasn’t so shore which’un’s tails wus true."

And these have been passed down to me, and to you.

According to legend, Arthur and Kay grew up together in Ector’s court, Kay being a few years older than Arthur. Borrowing from Mary Stewart, I am assuming that Bedwyr (later Anglicized to Bedivere) might have befriended Arthur at an early age. By some accounts, Bedwyr was the original Lancelot. In any case, imagine the adventures these young heroes might have pursued (or dreamed up, to excuse tardiness or “lost” homework assignments). Manawydan and Llyr were ancient Welsh gods. Cath Pulag was a monstrous, clawing cat. (“Sorry teach! My theme paper on Homer was torn up by a cat bigger than a dragon! And meaner, too!”) Pen Palach is more or less a mystery, or perhaps just another old drinking buddy with a few good beery-bleary tales of his own. This poem assumes that many of the more outlandish Arthurian legends began more or less as “small tales,” little white lies which simply got larger and larger with each retelling. It also assumes that most of these tales came about just as the lads reached that age when boys fancy themselves men, and spend much of their free time drinking and puking! Keywords/Tags: King Arthur, boy, boyhood, *****, drinking, beer, ale, tall tales, Wales
b for short Apr 14
To the boy who slings beer near the capitol of Virginia:
I can't drink what you're selling, but
I do wish I could climb into your mind for a day.
I'd watch the colors pass by as you switch lenses,
as you understand the misunderstood,
as you explain all of that ignorance
that rents the space under the rug.
You made me dream with my eyes wide open.
These are the words I never said to you
and the words you needed to hear in the dark.
We missed the boat, sure,
but I often wonder
if you can swim.
© Bitsy Sanders, April 2020
there once was a beer named Corona
preferred by the youth with ‘persona’
they drank it with pride
but today they would hide
delight  has turned into a moaner
Where are the times when Corona was just the name of a quite drinkable Mexican beer..?
Steve Mar 14
The pub, the pub
Is a very nice place to be
A long cool pint
And a bag-o-nuts
In the heart of good company

And the Roseburn Bar
Is not very far
From our house

The pub, the pub
On a dreich Sunday afternoon
Sport on the tele
Beer in my belly
The day can’t come around too soon

And The Roseburn Bar
Is not very far
From our house

The pub, the pub
Calls out to me on Friday nights
Then a nip or two
What’s left to do
But to set this old world to rights

And The Roseburn Bar
Is not very far
From our house

Meet me there one day
Relax
Have a drink.
Let your hair down
Take note :)
I trust books
and the people that serve my beer.
Nigdaw Dec 2019
condensation runs in rivulets
to form a puddle
at the foot of the glass
a barmaid's finger imprints
still show in their disturbed path
bubbles rise to the surface
to join the communion of froth
through amber liquid

grain hops yeast water
a quartet brewed to perfection
one of the oldest beverages of man
an innocent in our drug and adrenaline
fuelled world

going for a beer with the lads
do you fancy a pint?
just a quick one
social, classless, acceptable vice
five thousand years in the making
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