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Badshah Khan Feb 2019
Rubayiat Al Thurab (Verses of the Dust) – 49

BismillahIr RahmanIr Raheem

I ain’t an adept drinker,
When I see deep in your gleaming eyes.
I instantly become an adept drinker,
Oh My Dear Love!

I don’t gulp or pile the unique wine,
When I glimpse your moisty lips,
I miraculously found a vine cellar;
All by myself’ in your lips,
Oh My Dear Love!

Generously allow Me’
To unanimously ratify,
As an adept drinker,
Oh My Dear Love!

Therefore willingly I can soak.
In your eyes myself, As;
A confirmed drunkard,
Oh My Dear Love!

Allah Khair….. Khairul Rabul Alameen Yah Arrahmanur Yah Raheem

Ummah Thurab – Badshah Khan.
©UT-BK 2019
Rubayiat Al Thurab (Verses of the Dust)
rey Jun 2018
I’m fascinated with your intoxication
You must really like this drink;
To let it steal away your paychecks,
Destroy your liver,
And your teeth.

You must really like this drink,
When you drink it,
You become it.
I don’t recognize you drunk.
Your mouth is ******,
And your head is gone

You must really like this drink
To let it change the way you think.
Let it consume who you are.
And those who love you, turned away.

© Regan
You must really like this drink
Star BG Sep 2017
Tears often do cleanse the soul,
using them can make you whole.

kick your judgments to see light,
all your dreams will shine so bright.

Yes, be strong with eyes that see,
love is where you need to be.

Your so gifted look inside,
then you will move with great pride.

Drink it just does hide the pain,
in shadows one goes insane.

Better yet look deep to see
you deserve great harmony.

Be aligned with who you are,
skip the drink, as your a star.
Inspired by Carter Ginter
Star BG May 2017
I am a lover of the written word.
A scribe who tickles a page.

I am a drinker who looks
through tinted glass and drinks
while writing my sorrows away.

I’m both lover and drunk
though not sure which comes first

So, I sit glass half full debating it,
over a cup of words, and a final period.

StarBG © 2017
inspired by Carol Smith
I was born at night tall like swagger cane
A Friday's child - delivered with muse
That was fortunate enough for my parents
Oral poetry poured plentiful in the morning

That's what Saturdays are good for
Teachers worn their loincloth lose
As wine and fish soup flowed at ease
While farmers set out to burn in the sun

Now you'll understand why I chose not to be
a Saturday's child, I dread to be a farmer
Heavy drinking may not be my fate as well
It sure sets the mood right for what's right

I took sides with either of the two vices
I pitched my tent where grace and virtues lies
Tryst Sep 2014
One more **** fool woman,
One more reason why
One more broken useless man needs
One more glass of rye;

No more **** fool women,
No more reasons why;
No more “Plenty grains of sand”,
No more *“No more **** rye!”
First published 12th Sept 2014, 20:15 AEST.

— The End —