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Bob Apr 2020
We are going to town
With confettis in our eyes
And venture a glorysome fervent party
We wreak havoc on
Soft ground and beguile
Butterflies and bees
And we drink nectar
In garderns straight out from flowers

The gardeners will be mad
But who are they to stop us?

They can't take the happy
We coddled in our bellies
Along with our whiskey
And denial.
Along with our dreams
Digesting, fermenting
In boiling loathing
Sometimes we drown ourselves with the decadence of life just to forget our misfortunes and feelings of utter desolation.
Alan S Jeeves Apr 2020
(A Sonnet)


Snug in the corner I saw the lad lie,
Fire in his belly, a cork in his eye;
And wordlessly sleeping, a-snooze in his bed,
His words, when awakened, go straight to your head.


Alluring to look at, golden is he,
There when you need him as sure as can be;
And anxious to aid you, he doesn't think twice,
The cost of his concert, your soul is the price.


Then tell him to go now, bid him goodbye;
Allow him to slumber, let sleeping dogs lie!
Tell him his concord you are shooing away,
The lad with the nostrum may no longer stay.


Well! time he was leaving so, show him the door!
A flagon of whiskey a-smash on the floor.
Zack Ripley Nov 2019
The whiskey burns my throat even in the cold November air
As I sit out on my porch in my evening wear.
I let my mind drift away,
Not unlike the swirling snow
To the night I received a mysterious letter many years ago.
At first, I was confused.
But my curiosity grew
When they asked to meet on the bridge at midnight for a secret rendezvous.
As I put on my boots, gloves, and cap, all I kept thinking was "please, don't be a trap."
When I arrived, the air was thick.
And with my adrenaline rising, it was getting hard to breathe.
I waited and waited, and then you showed up just as I was getting ready to leave.
I screamed into the wind
"I got your letter! What is it you need?"
Then, what happened next, I could never have believed.
There you were, surrounded by an ethereal glow.
You, my love, who stole my heart when you left before it was your time to go.
To this day, I don't know if what I saw was real, or just a dream.
But it gave me hope.
And more importantly, it gave me peace.
Lily Priest Mar 2020
We are here
Whiskey addled
And full of quiet
Smokily cigaretted in the after.
Every touch
Taps a nerve
That shivers across
Our pillowed universe
And meets in our gaze

Puckered lips
Kiss eyelids to close
All our fervour
Now to sleep
On bed sheets and skin
Tangled toe to toe
And palm
To heart.
Ron Gavalik Feb 2020
On Sundays, I drink
more coffee and more whiskey.
Reflections on the previous week
provide for accurate predictions
about the week ahead.
Books and snacks go down easily.
Attaining clear focus
helps the writer observe society
to build the words
that raise spirits
and raze evil.

–Ron Gavalik
Peter Farsje Feb 2020
I just love my old grandad.
He was born in Kentucky,
I think he has aged well.

He joins us at family parties.
He sits staight and tall
but rarely, if ever, says anything.

He brings warmth
and good cheer while he
quietly sits listening.

Sometimes I look for him
at the grocery store,
though I seldom see him there.

I just love my Old Grandad.
He is the head of the bourbon family.

Old Grandad.
Kentucky Straight Bourbon Whiskey.
Ron Gavalik Jan 2020
At dusk, under gray skies,
whiskey thoughts wander
in the lust of lost hopes.
Memories surface
of forgotten love
and the memorable rage
of injustice.
We are the chaos.
We are the solution.
We are the beginning
and the end.

–Ron Gavalik
Ron Gavalik Jan 2020
Bourbon whiskey
and dark chocolate
are tender injections
of love
for the people
who are not
in love

–Ron Gavalik
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