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Louise Nov 10
Can I see your wine menu? What's the bestseller?

'We have bottles and labels from France, madame'


Do you have something stronger?
Something that will knock me off my feet?
Perhaps something more bitter would be better.
Something that will get me home crawling.
Maybe something smoother and a little closer.
French just isn't doing it for me.

𝘋𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘻-𝘮𝘰𝘪 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘭𝘲𝘶𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘥𝘦 𝘱𝘭𝘶𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘦𝘵 𝘱𝘭𝘶𝘴 𝘥𝘶𝘳 𝘴'𝘪𝘭 𝘷𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘱𝘭𝘢î𝘵.
Francis Nov 3
(Why do you look at drinking as such a nasty thing?)

Oh, no reason.
It’s a silly little beverage,
That twisted and turned,
My childhood to shambles,
All because it was who ‘he’ was.

Oh, you’re right,
I’m just being dramatic,
It was just my innocence,
After all,
Silly me.
My ex girlfriend once gave me criticism over my negative viewpoints on people (her) who make drinking their personality. Let’s dissect this:
Nothing hurts when I'm alone,
As I drink the sweet poison
That empties my mind.

How unkind,
This substance can feel
So fresh and fine,
Without a thought to mind.
As I run for fun,
Through streets of unknown,
Not knowing who the ones are
Vibrating my phone,
As they text and call me
To come back home.

A smile creeps on my face,
As i'm restless and dazed,
In a hypnotic haze,
For one can only suffer
The very next day.

But alas,
The day has come,
And I for one
Awoken by a
Frosted memory,
Of one late night,
Turned into a horror sight.

Was I there?

As I meekly glare
At the ones who care,
Standing before me,
Beginning to stare.

I hear silence in the air.

Not one feeling I remember,
Not one feeling I forget.
I wake up in a cold sweat
Of utter guilt and regret.
This poem is a more darker one, focusing on a very prominent issue in life which is addiction. Alcoholism is a serious and heartbreaking issue for many to suffer from. This poem is dear to my heart, so if anyone feels this way or knows of someone, please know that you are heard and loved.
please do enjoy!
Phia Sep 3
I stood in front of the mirror
Bottle in hand
The world as blurry as my feelings.
Someone please help me
neth jones Aug 14
the dog night salivates and commands
                                     and commands
but i am abroad from that
  asleep with my family
  under the open windows
as others stew in the clubs, bars
     and packed terraces
summer 23

AceLione Jun 22
Drinks, drinks and more drinks down my throat
To feel some sort of nausea like I’ve been rocking on a boat
Just for the moment of absolute alcoholic rejoice
To dance, jump and yell out every bit of your voice
To be like some sort of euphoric paradise
The pain of it faded away is for later to realize
neth jones Jun 30
afterparty mingle in a single bedroom vault wincing ceiling slopes so low condemning matter dance to fumbles and more penetrating life forces gum-***** into stressed room couple and squirm over into the crawl space hazardous music and metallic humour is pushing risks and insult no being is out of place pouting the smoke and store brand alcohol routing and deafening and defeating too much the gagster comes thundering down the corridor like he was wrought for applause he addresses those outside the room and it's wagging dogs and a face of cartoony ballooning pep it's hard to handle the wash of wording an assault of enthusiasm jester baits laughter with an old polaroid camera slamming open the door all tension his way he presses the button and projects them all against the walls 'Flash ****** ! ' he squells throws aside the camera 'People Pile!' he thumps into the crowd bed begging a play fight baroque girl hugging her knees crammed under the small sink to the side of the door reaches out a nervy hand and takes the discarded camera watches the ******* photo paper fade in slow retch her own pose lone excluded soul separate and saved she leaves with souvenir

you come thundering in
like you were made for applause
when you speak it's just 'wagging dogs'
your face is a cartoon of ballooning pep
i can't handle the wash of this conversation
an assault of enthusiasm
neth jones Jun 11
leisure up my friend !
   weaken open your shellfish hinge
       and wet your beak
it’s a marked holiday break
   unmarred by family obligation
there’s freedom
   to make the most criminal crown of mistakes
   in the name
         of some frown of liberal investigation

on the town
an eager squad of collaborators are on board
     they have your back
desperate, sick and starving gulls
     broadened to explore the deplorable
on and on to the next and the next
     death defining task

a meandering stagger of a bar crawl
  perpetually   powering through
     as the day spans a revulsion
the heat stays as the day sinks beneath
in place of the suns rays
the heat radiates instead
        from the baked city concrete
stepping out from the shelter of the bar
  the night swelter respires fiercely
not done with our steam of annihilation
  what establishment would take our kind ?
city has already bowed over it's plumage
                                 to our ******* pilgrimage
bark melts and peels in strips off the trees
        (meat shaved off the strip pole)
our heels spark the pavement
vermin and jackals follow our movement
             from shimmering dark spots
             and our vision constricts

our aim   has become clotted...
      ...what was it that we reached for ?
oblivions fruit seemed a doable pursuit

it's the usual downhill shambles from here
familiar yet barely remembered
a rambling guff of bad ***** comedy
there is no plucky legend
just an embarrassment
neth jones Dec 2022
feet first                                            
into the treat of the night
the teating streets                            
         the neighbours pool
drunken fools the pair of uz          
      dunked in unruly lust
drunk as fruit flies                            
                  for the science
we list about                                      
                     ­                and stumble              
fumbling lyrics                                  
    in our dripping clothes

laughing like art gone temple        
a mentally unstable template    

that'll be fazed by the sunrise        
Andy Chunn Nov 2022
When Santa returned from his trippin’
A bottle of *** he was nippin’
His wife had a brew
And after a few
The elves caught them both skinny dippin’
You have to watch that guy!
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