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John F McCullagh Feb 2015
Blessed are we all to live in a time
when the love of Craft beer exceeds that for wine.
Hops, malt and barley all now rule the day
When brewed up together in a nice I.P.A.
Who cares if some hipsters choose to babble away
about hints of oak in some obscure Chardonnay.
We are no longer limited to our father’s Budweiser.
The vast choice of beers would astound those old timers!
Cherry Wheat, pumpkin, and Oktoberfest
You’ll fall down on your face ere you’ve tried all the rest.
As Ben Franklin stated wittily and succinctly”
“Beer is the proof God meant man to be happy.”
Going for something refreshing and not too heavy
Dorothy Guya Feb 2015
how many emptied cups of coffee?

how many crumpled papers littering around?

how many broken bottles of beer?

how many cigarette stubs flattened on the ground?

how many stonewashed mornings?

how many sleepless nights, empty and dull?

how many will it take to forget you?

tell me, how many?
Damm , sounds like home to me
T. S. Elliott's wasteland
Where puragatory worst residence live
Raise a toast to the Ghost of Christmas Past
for you haven't the pressence to make a future out of it .
Where happy hour never ends and friendship is sealed by the clink of glass
And all the women have traces of ***** on their lips as they ask hey buddy will you buy me a beer
Year after year until O'Hara's Pub and Grill becomes your Thanksgiving , Easter , Memorial Day , Christmas , and New Years Day
And they even paint a reserved parking space out back for you
But they were the only bar open for the blizzard when everyone took acid and danced barefoot in the snow
I want to be a tight man
a fight man
a get it when I can man
a hard man
a ladies man
a take when its there man
a bad man
a cad man
a wham bang and thank you ma'am.

I want to be a flirt man
a take a bit of skirt man
a **** man
a slapper man
a kiss em quick an part man.

I want to be a cheat man
a cheap man
a slip between the sheets man
a creep man
a street man
a leering ****** beer man.

I want to be a cold man
an ice man
but some say I'm too nice man?
I lie in bed
Pounding head
****** slit wrists
Food barely bit
Beer bottles on floor
Feeling lost and torn
Asking myself...
Is it time to end all the pain?
Roman Pavel Jan 2015
I’m searching for Paradise
Beyond the vast ocean on a beach filled with white sand
Under the palm tree in the shadows of untamed land
Where the ocean tides pave over the imprints of a desolate shore
And the wind echoes around caressing the sun drenched floor
In front of the sea, sparkling from the sun’s radiant light
Waiting to set, and be engulfed by the night
In my hand I clasp upon a cold and crisp, refreshing beer
Looking upon the horizon so clear
Oh, wouldn’t it be so nice
To escape this place to Paradise

I’m searching for Paradise
On an immeasurable plane of green land tangent only to a white mountain range
Where the prairie has been spared from the time of industrial change
In front of the sun as it strokes the horizon line
I sit, while I clasp upon my tall glass of wine
The sky is painted by an array of colors, reflecting off tranquil clouds
Free from the hustle and bustle of crowds
The grass is soft, like long bristles of velvet fur
As the pollen rises from the flowers, it creates an indescribable blur
Oh, wouldn’t it be so nice
To escape this place to Paradise

I’m searching for Paradise
In the big city, illuminated by artificial light
Surrounded by friends in the chaos of night
We trek, pushing through the people infested street
And pulse to the music of an inescapable beat
In the heat of passion, impossible to explain
We pop bottle after bottle of the most exclusive champagne
Under the stars, beneath the glittering sky
Indulging within the penthouse so high.
Oh, wouldn’t it be so nice
To escape this place to Paradise



I’m searching for Paradise
On the edge of the world, perched upon a soaring cliff
Where you can taste the cool crisp air with but only a whiff
As the sun begins to peak out from beneath the earths womb
I pour a drink, full of spirits to consume
The birds begin to sing in metronomic rhyme
I sing along, to count the time
In the twilight hour sets
The new day begins as I’m purged of regrets
Oh, wouldn’t it be so nice
To escape this place to Paradise



I’m searching for Paradise
After an extensive and exhausting day of work
Grueling and toiling for a boss who’s a ****
Breaking my back for the lowest of scraps
Sweating and Striving till my knees collapse
I return to an undersized and meager house
To be greeted by my enduring spouse
Embracing the responsibility of my new role as a father
I look upon the face of my daughter
And within her eyes so nice
I finally find Paradise
At first read you may notice that these stanzas are representatives of stereotype paradise, but it is actually places the protagonist wanted to leave to escape to his family.

the hidden gems represent the 4 different elements (water, earth,fire, air) also the 4 points of the day (day,sunset,night,sunrise) and 4 different alcohol (beer,wine,champagne, Spirit[liqour])
all these are illusions of paradise and only after experiencing all 4 elements he finds love in the 5th stanza
no more counting moments in the day, he has life and no alcohol
WickedHope Jan 2015
the rim of your beer can
tastes like your stale cigarettes
i choke on the lingering flavor
persistent in my mind
you're overwhelming from afar
if we were closer perhaps
i would build up immunities
to your snares that have me
caught up and falling
head over heals drowning
only at the rim of your beer can
I made it longer. Tada. :P
- - -
Anyone else feel like dying right now, or is it just me?
WickedHope Jan 2015
the rim of your beer can
tastes like your stale cigarettes
I don't know... It happened, so I wrote it.
M Eastman Jan 2015
She's beautifully chaotic
a whirlwind of makeup and hoopla
she'll kick bushes on her way;
to a can of beer and a good comic book
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