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Aurora RW Jan 2020
From a man, at once he can drink

Two, three, four, five he tries to think

Stumbled into the kitchen

Thought he went fishin'

“Help Margret! I fell in the sink!”

—AuroraRW
Jenish Jan 2020
endued speed of wind
he crashed to his funeral
drink and drive again!
Madison Greene Jan 2020
press your tattoos against me
until they rub off on my skin
we have built something bigger than this sadness
drink me in like a well aged bottle of cabernet
you’re my favorite escape from the madness
A M Ryder Jan 2020
Love is never learned
Until it is lost
It's so hard
To forget pain
But it's even harder
To remember sweetness

We bear no scar
To show for happiness
We learn so little
From peace
Violet Jan 2020
Alone one time,

I sat for a drink with night

And we talked in silence.

I was kissed by moonlight until dawn.

The wine remain untouched.

And yet i went to sleep drunk.
Innocent Jan 2020
Not too much, but very little
There are very few things going on with me in them,
That keeps me moving,
The very few things.
BIG enough to define me,
Small enough to make you wonder,

If I don't drink, what will I do,
You cannot take away drink from me,
Don't try to,
It's like taking away life from me,
What is life, if not well lived,
It's just only a waste of years,
Well they say life is too short,
So the waste will probably not be too much.
Struggle drink wine hustle writer living life
Vic Jan 2020
Ah yes,
A new year to completely **** up.
I promised myself I wouldn't drink the next half decade.
I failed within the first three minutes
Happy new year
A poem every day
1-1-2020
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
Steve Page Dec 2019
Pub poetry is a form of performance poetry consisting of the shouted word which has developed in UK urban pubs, dating back to the 1940s and 50s. Words are typically yelled over ambient haphazard rhythms which are not especially chosen for the piece of poetry, rather the poetry is performed over the generic sound of empty bottles and part filled glasses and live samples of patron conversation that will be familiar to those frequenting hostelries around the UK.

Sometimes the audience will employ call and response devices to distract the poet, such as calls of "W##k-er!', with the traditional response of "F##k-You!" before the pub poet continues with his yelled out verse, often read from the beer stained back of an overdue envelope.

The pub poet usually appears on a chair or table, surrounded by immediate family or work mates cheering him on.

Invariably inebriated, the pub poet may not appear to make any sense to the uninitiated - but once you too have availed yourself of your 4th or 5th pint, the words become clearer and easier to appreciate.

No musicality is built into pub poems and pub poets generally perform without backing music, delivering chanted speech with pronounced modulation, broken-rhythmic accentuation and dramatic, though random, stylization of gestures, often resulting in the pub poet losing balance and sustaining a head injury thereby losing consciousness and bringing the evening's entertainment to a premature, but often welcome, end.

It is often noted that many pub poets are remarkably shy and retiring when sober.
Based on 'dub poet' wiki entry.  I simply took another look through a different lens.
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