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Once a year its champagne!
I feel calm passionate and teary.
It gets my head to Paris
  As life is broken down goes out
in transition or revelation,
there's a greàter darkness then the one we inadvertently fight,
the darkness of the soul
that has lost its way.
I was chosen by great sages crossing paths the sting of my blindfold lingers noone sees hope or their future, or where it leads we know only that it's bought in pain and sacrifice.
Letting go what I loved the most.
was eternal loss, having
no reparation, neither in time,
nor in eternity.
My love river is truth it's mouth is
cosmic creation.
He measured sensuality
secretively, and in shadows 
he showed me feathers of half
a man syllhuette of him,
and feels guilty I just fill in blanks,
why smack a devolving face?
And what the heck!
I first measure people in trust.
then love, as true love is rare.
Trust tells love where to roam.
Love can't be made perfect
in distrust nor fear of rivals.
When I give my heart I do,
When I share my dreams too.
I do not drown in midnight
   dew not retreat;
but I won't take sand in my eyes.
After the loving I go from rags
to riches in his love or shine
to wiser horizons..
Mr and Mrs Andrews.
At Karijinbba
Tom Lefort Jul 2021
Twist and turn the lid you keep on everything,
Release the madness sobriety holds within;
Pour out the darkness, drink it up.
Carry me home on the rapids and rivers of gin.

TS Lefort 2021
Aaron Nov 2020
Writing a poem for the sake of writing a poem.
I’m feeling emotions. More than ten.
Emotions that numb the toughest of men.
Even after all these exercises on Zen
It still feels like I’m falling apart at the hem.

But it’s all good! Isn’t it? I’m here.
Living through it with fear
Just ordered a double gin and some beer
But the mere feeling evokes a tear
and leaves me kneeling at the gateway of those emotions.
Dripping all over me like hot lotion
Without commitment or devotion.
And everything feels like it's slow motion.

So apparently it’s normal. To feel things.
They say all the stings and the pings are worth it
because we’re not supposed to be perfect,
and ‘these feelings need to be nurtured’.
*******. It’s all a bit perverted like a lie that's murmured.
This ******* feeling is so determined that I can't win.
If I do, I'll be singed and pinned
Even though I haven't actually sinned.
Yet I'm the one writing this poem. Not her.

Where the **** is that beer?
So I wrote this. This poem. Here.
Julia Aug 2020
"They" are the reason I put
gin in my vinegar.
I am light years ahead,
a misfit.
"They" crush my very existence
into tiny white lies. 13 stripes,
50 stars in the wide eyes of
time’s bride:                              
Now is not the place
to erase history deface
Its story.
Meditate to medicate
To my reader: you are full of beauty, and so is this world.
Broadsky Jun 2020
"can I see you tonight?"

already **** well knowing what the answer will be.

still I ask,

because I don't think you know what you do to me, tracing the grain of your skin... you don't know how long I've waited for you, I'd pass the time drinking gin.

you used to move me
like sweet notes sung by a violin
but I can't wait forever,
my patience is wearing thin.

walking on these egg shells, trying not to crack
when all I want to do is yell
"you're absolutely crushing my heart, please give it back."

"I didn't think to ask"
you say; isn't that such a shame?
when you look can't you see the discrepancies between us?
does it not shake and rattle your brain?

I wouldn't think twice to climb a mountain for you in the pouring rain,
but honestly, sweetheart...
I don't think you'd do the same.

and that's alright,
because this is my domain,
I now make the rules to this game.

things will be different, I'm not going to lie.

this is what happens when I'm made to color inside the lines.
I think the instructions on how to hurt me are inscribed on the inside of your ringlet curls.
Bardo Apr 2020
She was a lovely looking thing,
A beautiful young blonde girl/woman
She hadn't been with us long... at
She was smart and sassy, even a little
Held strong opinions on some things,
She lived close to where I lived, only
   a few miles away
So I was sitting amongst them one
   day, the girls/the ladies
They were a little bored that day and
   for some sport
Were trying to draw me out, to get me    
   to open up a little
To reveal some more about my ways
   and my life
So I thought I'd have some fun with
I told them I did some painting as a
And that my speciality was 'the
   female ****'
But alas! I had a problem, I had no
   one to sit for me
"If only I had some beautiful nymph, some haughty Queen, some dazzling princess", I lamented
And then I'd gaze over at Her, give her
   a longing look,
Then of course, someone upped and
   said the obvious
" Jen....don't you live close to where he lives, would you not go sit for him "
My face it lit up and I smiled
"No! I would not!!! she said
   emphatically, disgusted
Now I knew from the Christmas party
   she liked to drink Gin
So I said enticingly "I'll throw in a
   few bottles of Gin"
"I'd never pose **** for anyone", she replied again emphatically, "it'd be embarrassing, it'd be degrading! Sitting naked before some man!",
" But ", I replied, " you wouldn't be embarrassed sitting for me
'Cos when I paint a **** I insist on
   being in the **** myself as well
So as to make my Sitter feel more at
   home, more at ease
Yeah, Me! I'm very... Avant Garde"
(said with a devilish twinkle in my eye)
Still she resisted my painterly
So as to further entice her I said
"I'll even cook you breakfast, no one can resist my lovely sizzling sausages".
I felt as though I'd dangled my carrot
   right in her face
But still she wouldn't take the bait.
I suppose I was lucky she hadn't for if
   she had of (agreed)
I would have had to have learnt how
   to paint Nudes real fast
And how to cook sausages and other
   breakfast repast.
More ****** and general nudiness. A bit of fun and a belated Happy Easter (think it was cancelled this year).
annh Apr 2020
You caught my eye but once,
You caught me eye but twice,
Then popped them in a cocktail glass,
And topped it up with ice.

Vermouth you added first,
And then a shot of gin,
A squeeze of lime, a dash of tea,
With salt around the rim.

‘One martini coming up!’ you drawled,
You slid it down the bar,
And so returned my eyes to me,
Like olives from a jar.

To those who swear that love is blind,
You've surely never been,
The subject of a stolen glance,
From a barmaid named Nadine.
A repost from the dim and distant past.
Am I back...I’m not sure. What I am sure of is that sitting with the warmth of the morning sun on my back, iPad in my lap, scrawling and trawling, scrolling and trolling (I jest - couldn’t resist the rhyme) is the most contently anxious I’ve felt in weeks. Stay safe! :)
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