Ender Royalty Apr 11
Does my birth
Really have worth
What have I done
Besides hide and run

When I was ten
I beat up a friend
Freshman year
I brought to school beer

I tried a good deed
But didn't succeed
I try to make amends
For all my great sins

All I'll amount too
Is a worthless who
Who only smokes weed
And will never succeed
Just another quick poem, enjoy
When it's 1984 and your life's a bore
in Maggie's vision of a soulless, selfish Britannia, you do what any self disrespecting angst ridden 17 year old college drop out would do;
you brew home brew from hops and yeast and bits of twigs and dregs of evil smelling unidentified liquid; slosh it in glass bottles with a skull and cross bones then wait, wait and wait to celebrate its maturity with a ticket to the Castle Donington Monsters of Rock Pissfest!

Armed with the festering fruits of my labour in the company of bedenimed festering friends with metal heads and Patchouli oil scents to mask any basic deficiencies of hygiene, it's off to the Middle East....Midlands.

Against the incongruous backdrop of striking miners, record unemployment and my own fortnight giro, the garish Motley Crue were ready to rock my ass down Sunset Strip. Yeh baby!!! so relatable with my decadent rock n roll lifestyle in the grim, rain soaked East Manchester dole queues of hopelessness where my coke dealer was Derek with the cola variety.

On to a bone jarring jalopy to get off my tits on the home made grog off "how to do home brew" instructions, now suitably refreshed on a rare English sun baked afternoon and ready to join the throng to view the 'Crue's man thongs over red leather pants so regularly seen in the vaults of inner city Mancunian pubs. My ass robustly rocked then ready to be kicked by our favourite batman..."LETS GET NUTS! IT'S OZZZZY OSBOURNE!!!" ARE YOU READY TO RIDE THE F** CRAZY TRAIN! LET'S GO!

Losing all 5 of my senses I climbed aboard a cohort's shoulders around which hundreds of urine filled receptacles whizzed and fizzed, caring not a jot as Ozzy implored me to raise my hands and worship at the altar of rock n roll, man...but my worship was interrupted by a direct plastic piss hit to the back of my cranium, exploding its contents into my rarely washed mullet and drenching my Rainbow Rising t-shirt.

What was I to do?

Nothing, baby!

This is rock n roll!
I boarded the Dave Lee Roth fronted Van Halen express and saluted those about to rock AC/DC and...
partied
like
it
was
a
home
brewed
piss
soaked
1984!
More recently I'm veering off the page towards the stage, This may work?
Madhurima Apr 1
I wouldn’t call it seedy
It’s not dingy, after all
Dark though, and loud
Almost always filled with a crowd
(Especially during happy hours)

The lights are low
(the prices too)
One plus one equals four
And soon, the time passes like
Clouds outside a window

The TV glows
With cricket or football
(But who’s really watching,
right?)
The soft conversations together
Make a loud hum
Of laughter and memories
And beer burps and orders
And call for bills and-
Maybe one more pitcher?

Four hours later,
Everything is closed
The mall is silent
As a graveyard
And we sway through it
Af if floating on air
Skipping stairs
And small talk

Looking back,
I don’t say goodbye
I know we’ll be back
Next week
Amongst its postered-up walls
And high ceiling,
Talking over its loud music
Comfortable,
Happy,
(And drunk).
That's when happy hours are over.
Azrapse Mar 24
My feelings faded away
Now all I feel is blue
I wonder why I’m so down
I’m always high
It doesn’t make sense
So I try some shit that’s more intense
I live with a bottle glued to my hand
And I have bottles of pills on deck
These drugs I self prescibe
Just to make me feel alive
The liquor helps me smile
But it makes me feel more numb
This weed helps me think
But it makes me more dumb
This yay makes my whole life feel A’okay
But it’s really fucking up my brain.
SangAndTranen Mar 22
It's far from homely
Odour of something
Don't know what.
Kick crushed cans
Scattered
Envelopes of late payments:
cant afford them.
Shove them aside
Drag thumbs over
The chipped controller
The tinny TV
The low-res game.
Grab a stranger
One night stand
Clinging to their skin.
Unsightly.
Grunt.
Chafed and blotchy
Pretty scrawny
No one cares.
Use them
Like they are using you
To escape the drag
That is this existence.
Leave them in silence
Belt buckle done up
Hiss goes the beer can
Slump
Take a swig.
Back tomorrow
To the grind
Splash face
With water
Fumble sleepily
With the nylon tie
And crawl through
Another day.
I decided to be blunt and honest, hooray.
Kathryn Rose Mar 20
The beer dried my tears

Anesthetic
Number Seven
Eight .   ?
N
          i
      n
                 e  ?
Who even cares...

The last rays of light on the brick
Alone
On the porch
Me and the teak wood
Wiping my tears with my sweet beers
Danial John Feb 25
I'll be fine, as long as I have my wine.

Keep the taps flowing.

Otherwise I'll be forced to find something more potent.

I don't care, question whether to liver die
bret Feb 20
i bought beer
for the first time today.
ive never been drunk before.
that's not hyperbole
or some kind of metaphor.
ive literally never been drunk before.

never been me.
i just know what it does
and what it would do to me.
but here we are
the end of whatever is left.

i cut my hand on the cap
when i put it in my bag.

i slide down a mud hill
to get to the bus

the bus driver
wouldn't let me back on the bus.
it was the same fucking bus driver
that handed me the transfer
to take the fucking bus home.

i dont think god wants me to buy beer
Meaby Pom Feb 13
'good morning, baby'
What A beautiful thing to hear.
You don't know if I'll be around
I know there is still some fear
take a breath, than my hand
Cause I'm home, I'll be right here.
I'll be home to say goodnight, Hun
But first A kiss, A dart, A beer.
I will be loyal, I will be yours
I want this; there is nothing to fear.
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