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With eager lips,  with trembling joy,
I sip my *** and coke — My delight, My life!
In this dusty old bar — My temple!
clever Nov 2019
on october the 26, your lips on mine tasted like malibu
that's about the only thing i know for sure about us
Charlotte Ivy Nov 2019
Yo ** ** and a bottle of ***, is it me or the alcohol that makes you ***?
Mitch Prax Nov 2019
I don't know how much
you had to drink but I know
you were completely out of your senses.
I couldn't quite make out the words,
but I guess even then,
it felt good to hear some affection.
Oh, how terse the mind is deceived
so easily by the false mask
of a bottle of ***.
else Oct 2019
I could still taste the whiskey
In my mouth, ***-rimmed,
The tang of coke, light gin,
Better than mint,
As my eyes turned three,
Balance broke, but
My mind stayed intact,
So I took my calculator,
Solved calculus in front of you,
Pi r square h, volume of the drink--
Look, Chandrasekhar, Volkoff--
My words are slurred yet clearer
Than ***** neat, more fluent
Than *** slipping in like silk
Into my throat, the blooming
Sweet heat lingers, my
Feet numb, as I walked,
Arm slung over your shoulder,
Laughed, fear clear, stir sears,
I'm not sorry, I'm free, in glee
With you, while the mild aftertaste
Remains, dissipates late, my mate,
Our best most happiest date...

Oh boy.
I may just forget much.
But I won't forget
That you still owe me twenty point four seven five dollars.
*** what was I doing last night hahahh
Sudipta Maity Feb 2019
If I say you girl
you are inside
my neuron world.
Would you belive?
Or if I send you a mail
MRI scan report attatched.
Will you read?
Belive me or not.
The sparking in
my Vegas nerve are not lying.
An afgan ****.
***** to ***
Whiskey to Wine
I had tried everything-
the doctor pescribed.
But,  it's my nercotic nerve
stop receiving all signals
It polarised at my SA and AV node
by your high sugar smile.
Amanda Francis Dec 2018
Loving you was like being drunk.
Not love drunk.
A navy sailor forgetting his own name kinda drunk.

Maybe I be a navy sailor, my submarine has surfaced.
Battered ****** from a war you raged.
I can see the sun above the lapping water.

I feel your entitlement crumble away from me.
The sun was never 'yours', neither was i.
This vast ocean was trying to drown you first.

If I would have known, I'd of kicked you off this ship.
Made you walk the creaking of plank lies you made.
My body is a vessel you can not sail! Can not command, Pilot!

My sober head aches, the *** leaches away and gifts me clarity.
I've been drunk this entire time!
My heart is not broken, just hungover!
Josiah Israel Nov 2018
We wander, we wander,
By moonlight, I ponder,
Whilst sailing my ship towards that shimmering star!
How we who are pirates, so willingly wander, both hither and yonder, no matter how far…

Methinks to myself, “Not a bad life to lead, no longer a slave to the land like before…
The wind at my back, so utterly freed, to seek out adventures, on any fair shore!”

“Why do it?” Methinks, as I stand on the prou, the breeze on my face, lightly tossing my locks,
For any a man would be called crazy now, for braving the sharks, and starvation, and pox!

Is it the gold, that calls me to sea? Where hurricanes howl, and sturdy  sails rend!
Or is it the freedom that calls out to me, and gold is not more than a means to an end?

For me, ti’s the freedom, to do what I love, to sail by the light of the stars up above, And stand on my deck, under moonlight, to ponder, how we are those pirates who willingly wander…


My ship, a fine lady, a handsome thing too, a good set of guns with a competent crew, her holds full of treasures, and finest apperal, and row upon row of *** by the barrel!

So drink in the morning, and drink in the evening, and I would be lying if I didn’t say, We guzzle the *** from dusk until dawn, and me-thinks I’ll be sipping it all through the day!

Then we dance on the deck, for the music is playin, the chilly night breeze has our ship gently swayin,

And off once again, for we willingly wander, “But why?”  Says I, as by moonlight I ponder…

Wouldn’t we like to at some place belong? Would dropping our anchor for ever be wrong?

Perhaps there’s a place with a temperate climate, and someone to care for a salty old pirate?

But till that day comes, I shal willingly wander, and whilst I’m the captain, by moonlight I’ll ponder…
I borrowed this poem from my friend, Captain Herraldo, who is in fact a pirate. I took out some of the more gruesome bits —all true accounts— but tried my best to communicate his over arching ideas. He’s a good guy for a pirate!
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