Smoke it up cool cat
Lie back in the chair
Light a cig and breathe-
In the warm tobacco-
Taste flavors of tar, menthol-
And happiness
Feel nicotine travel
Through the branches-
Of veins
Exhale
Watch the opaque smoke
Dwindle in front-
Dip head forward-
Get that scent in-
Hair-
Eau de cig

Coffee finally arrives
Put out the cig
Ground plant into-
Burning ashes-
Pinch the cig-
Pour in cream-
Stir with cig-
Gettin’ the crusty-
Embers into the-
Golden nectar-
Of the gods-
Around around it goes
Drink it up
Is the rough gravel-
On your tongue-
Ground coffee or ash?

Liquor bottles and rapt promises
All sometimes mean the same thing for me
At first glance, they seem a little bit too much
To be handled by a mere, innocent minor like me

They say I'm too young to take or drink them
They say only adults can get a taste of them
But of course, I let my curiosity get the best of me
And here I am, sneaking some from the shelf.

Bitter. I unconsciously rejected it
For it was too bitter for me to handle
Manifesto too new, flavour too foul
Sensation incomprehensible, what's yet to come?

I finished half. Half of the bottle.
Internalized half of the emotions thrown
Embedded in between those highfalutin speeches
And I'm only waiting for what's next.

Warmth. It's warm, it's creeping in
Am I letting myself be thawed by their voice?
Or maybe it's just the liquid speaking
As it glides down from my mouth to my throat?

Euphoria. I feel nice. For the first time.
Taking more gulps doesn't feel a bit wrong.
Being succumbed to their words doesn't feel wrong.
It only feels all the more alright.

Tepid. Loaded. Giddy. Fine.
All these are happening all at once
I've been searching for this feeling all my life
WHY HAVE I NOT KNOWN BEFOREHAND!?

I only bought a bottle to try
Only sought a promise to swallow
Is one not enough for my troubled soul?
Is this how much I craved to feel fine?

No matter how many bottles we gulp
No matter how wholeheartedly we trust
When the ethereal high runs out in a bittersweet haze
It's time to clean them all up.

For the empty liquor bottles and empty rapt promises
Will only leave you reeking with its pungent smell
Along with trailing tears on your cheeks
And another throbbing head the next day.

Dancer
by Michael R. Burch

You will never change;
you range,
investing passion in the night,
waltzing through
a blinding blue,
immaculate and fabled light.

Do not despair
or wonder where
the others of your race have fled.
They left you here
to gin and beer
and won't return till you are bled

of fantasy
and piety,
of brewing passion like champagne,
of storming through
without a clue,
but finding answers fall like rain.

They left.
You laughed,
but now you sigh
for ages,
stages
slipping by.

You pause;
applause
is all you hear.
You dance,
askance,
as drunkards cheer.

Keywords/Tags: dancer, waltz, waltzing, applause, drink, drunkards, neon light, strobe, flash, flashing, crystal ball, chandelier, lap dancer, exotic dancer, stripper, peeler, strip, striptease artist, burlesque, Moulin Rogue, dance, passion, champagne, gin, beer

Once I drink it all,
     and can drink some more.
Then just a cup or two,
     and I'm jabbering like a fool.
Yesterday, a swirl and a whiff,
     and my tongue's a pen and I sing in fifths.
Today, the spirit’s overflowing,
     and I'll do anything on a prayer and a wing.

Abide
by Michael R. Burch

after Philip Larkin's "Aubade"

It is hard to understand or accept mortality—
such an alien concept: not to be.
Perhaps unsettling enough to spawn religion,
or to scare mutant fish out of a primordial sea

boiling like goopy green tea in a kettle.
Perhaps a man should exhibit more mettle
than to admit such fear, denying Nirvana exists
simply because we are stuck here in such a fine fettle.

And so we abide . . .
even in life, staring out across that dark brink.
And if the thought of death makes your questioning heart sink,
it is best not to drink
(or, drinking, certainly not to think).

Originally published by Light. Keywords/Tags: Philip Larkin, Aubade, abide, death, mortality, religion, drink, drinking, drunk, alcohol, fettle, mettle, Nirvana

You can call me names and make me fall.
But you don't know what I can do when my back's against the wall.
You can mock me and tell me I look like a freak.
But it's okay because these things don't make me weak.
We're all different. So why are we so afraid of how people walk, talk or think?
We're all different. So let's embrace it and have a drink.

"If you don't want to hear "I'm sorry" then I don't know what to say."
"You don't have to say anything. Even if you did, you wouldn't mean it anyway."
"We were great together. What did I do that was so wrong?"
"If you don't know, if you can't see how much you've changed, maybe you're too far gone."
"I haven't changed. I'm the same man I was before.
Yeah, I drink a little more.
But that doesn't mean you have to walk out the door."
"I don't want to. But you're not giving me much of a choice.
You don't listen to how much you're hurting me
no matter how much I raise my voice."
"You're hurting? You have no idea what I'm feeling inside.
You never asked why I started drinking.
You never even tried to understand.
Look, you said you don't want to walk.
So if you're willing to listen, I'm willing to talk."
"So let's talk."

Frankly,

All I really want is to drink myself to death.

I feel dangerous
Hatred, anger, adrenaline
Racing through me
Maybe I’ll take some pills
And have a drink
Just for fun
Let’s see.