He sat down by the bar with a bottle of whiskey. And while the angels sang he listened to the preachings of a crooked bartender Whose days were filled with drunk forgotten nights, and he knew for first time that he has never felt more close to God.
Now here's a toast to the Hours Chasing the Sundial round the Day Let the Sun shine on the Sober Let the Present never cease to stay
If Tomorrow there are Moments The Past comes back to haunt us We will raise a glass together To the Truth our Life has taught us
As Brothers none more Equal Each giving the other Pride of Place Sometimes not choosing Wisely But having impeccable Taste
On the Walk of Life, the Water of Life! Let there be no parting between us Let us never not drink Whiskey Let us never not be Brothers
Blood is thicker than Water Love ages better than Beer Brothers count Time more Truly With Laughter and with Tears!
Tommy Randell - 26th January 2021
We had a Day's Lockdown Walk to celebrate my Brother's Retirement Birthday. Here in England that is his 66th. Socially Distanced we walked to old haunts and talked Memories & Moments. We had a drop or two. We greeted a few friends passing by doing similar strolls through what is a very empty Yorkshire Town - un-naturally so in these difficult times. We never once Hugged each other - Hard for Us! We took 2 Photos, one of Him, one of me, and I joined them together in PhotoShop... like you do. The Photo of us is on one of my INSTAGRAM Pages. Just copy & Paste i the link following into your Browser header...
She is making tea for her poet-husband. Wondering what her husband is writing. Once he wrote "Charm floats on her cheeks, like a paper boat on the water. Dipping and dancing." Or maybe he is writing something ***** on her. Like once he wrote - "Between her thighs is the temple where I belong."
She is making tea for her poet-husband thinking he wants to impress her again. She can hear his pen tapping his teeth. But she can not see whisky on his table and she can not see he is watching her sister as he writes.
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She found him Darkness and despair surrounding The colour gone from his cheeks Nothing left for him to seek Whisky on the table A beer in his hand She kissed him gently And he buried his head in the sand
darling, don't let them fool you with their sweet chamomile gold, perfumed coffee, elegant and attractive champagne or even sparkling, fun Cola. for you are not tea, their source of energy, their party flavour or their soda. they will consume you in an instant. because darling, you are whisky in a crystal glass. strong, liquid fire, unable to be understood by many, but oh, so addictive.
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.