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#whisky
I drink it to loosen the knots in my chest, yet somehow it sharpens every thought awake. A cruel lover, this amber fire one I curse with the first sip and miss before the glass is empty. It burns like memory, warms like company, and leaves like regret. I tell myself each time: enough. But night has its own religion, and whisky always knows my name.
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May 22
May 22, 2026 at 2:22 AM UTC
Whisky and me
Whisky warm and brown, Poured gentle in my glass, Not just to gulp it down. A little buzz it brings, A lighter, looser feel, The way my spirit sings. Ice clinks a chilly song, Or neat, a fiery kiss, Where I belong. Just a sip or two, That's all I really need, To see the world anew. So here’s to me seriously. Cheers.
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Sep 3, 2025
Sep 3, 2025 at 3:33 AM UTC
Whisky
Whisky in my tea, When cold bites and wind blows A deep sip soothes me.
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Jul 24, 2025
Jul 24, 2025 at 9:18 AM UTC
Whisky tea
Henry Moore, the sculptor has in his kitchen an original Picasso on the wall above the fridge so every time he made a cuppa he was reminded of his friend not a fancy canvas in a frame but a drawing on A4 sketch pad page you can imagine the pair of them discussing art and Henry giving some small token to Pablo of his work and saying you know you should paint some blue cows it'll be good for you you can invent the Emperor's new clothes as often as you want if you're a genius and they would laugh over a glass of whisky Pablo went on to give life, of sorts to his blue cows oh, and I used to deliver whisky to Henry Moore's house
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Sep 10, 2023
Sep 10, 2023 at 5:22 AM UTC
my connection to the art world
The taste of my cigar and the whiskey in my gullet can't fill the pit inside my chest
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Aug 19, 2023
Aug 19, 2023 at 2:46 AM UTC
Whiskey in my Gullet
Whiskey dark chocolate, smooth jazz, and some gritty poetry are all that I need tonight
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Aug 8, 2023
Aug 8, 2023 at 5:44 AM UTC
Sunday Evenings
Seven inches of good intentions Half a cup of decent fears A grain of luck, a pinch of faith A teaspoon full of laughter’s tears One sip of ruban tempered whisky Half a pint of well placed bets A piece of blue sky from the east A small box labeled "No Regrets" Does this hand you rhyme or reason Does it really ease the pain I don't know… oh I can't tell If it will be boon or bane The forests’ seasonal changing colors One single fateful step outside A glassmade handle on the tailgate Keep off from the road behind Seven inches of clean conditions Half a glass of deep red wine A thimble guts, a pinch of glory A small box labeled "Days of Shine" Does this ease the pain does it hand you a break I can’t tell you - I don't know If there’s a perfect mix and shake Oh I don't know, I can't define But the notion sounds quite tempting… to a worried heart like mine
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Apr 8, 2022
Apr 8, 2022 at 3:23 AM UTC
Seven Inches of Good Intentions
At the end of the world😔😔... let's take a picture like this... save it on clouds ... restore it later..... on streets of heaven let's meet🤫🤫🤫.... we kiss for once, for both of us and for eternity
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Dec 22, 2021
Dec 22, 2021 at 10:55 AM UTC
how much drunk can you be ?
A man is always looking To get some free advice So go and find the fellow Drinking whiskey over ice Your friends will tell you one thing While you're both knocking back a beer But really, I mean really Is this the stuff you need to hear Find a whiskey drinker He'll tell you how to buy a car He'll share his whiskey wisdom About what's a good cigar A man who drinks good whiskey Whether neat or over ice Is the best one you can turn to When you're looking for advice He's made it and he knows it He's not drinking at the pub He's sitting in a wing back Drinking whiskey at the club So, if you're looking for assistance And you need some good advice Go get some whiskey wisdom Sharing whiskey over ice
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Sep 29, 2021
Sep 29, 2021 at 11:59 PM UTC
whiskey wisdom
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.
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Feb 17, 2021
Feb 17, 2021 at 12:11 PM UTC
God In A Bottle.
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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May 13, 2020
May 13, 2020 at 8:48 AM UTC
A poet-husband
Amber fire cooled Smooth over water hardened To soften the burn.
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Oct 8, 2019
Oct 8, 2019 at 10:56 AM UTC
Contemplative whisky
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
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Oct 6, 2019
Oct 6, 2019 at 5:42 AM UTC
Boy.
Whisky in his hand A smile on his face He beckoned me in Pure sin It could never last Love came and went so fast Left me with a hole A broken soul I've seen the new girl Blonde and skinny Of course she's pretty Wearing that string of pearl Whisky in his hand A smile on his face He beckoned me in Pure sin
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Oct 5, 2019
Oct 5, 2019 at 9:22 PM UTC
Whisky
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. -May Colde
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Aug 24, 2019
Aug 24, 2019 at 1:41 PM UTC
darling
Whisky bottle's a wishing well, but wishes aren't free; whisky bottle's a wishing well, but wishes aren't free; when I drink from the bottle the bottle drinks from me. I drink down to the bottom, there's nowhere else to go; I drink down to the bottom, there's nowhere else to go; I know there's no way to win but I can try losing slow. Whisky bottle's a wishing well, but wishes aren't free; whisky bottle's a wishing well, but wishes aren't free; when I drink from the bottle the bottle drinks from me.
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Jan 7, 2019
Jan 7, 2019 at 6:09 PM UTC
Wishing Well
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.
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Feb 23, 2019
Feb 23, 2019 at 10:09 AM UTC
Nercotic Nerve
a shop sells spirits and flowers for Valentine's and Ballantine's it's owner's face quite happily shines
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Feb 14, 2019
Feb 14, 2019 at 9:36 AM UTC
valentine's/ballantine's...
Whisky I love, It gives me that feeling Of being old and wise. The cigar I Puff, Makes me feel Happy, calm and in control. I wouldn't call it unhealthy If you do it now and then And if it makes you happy.
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Dec 7, 2018
Dec 7, 2018 at 5:32 PM UTC
Whisky and my cigar
Whisky, I neglected you For mushrooms and amphetamines. For ket and **** and LSD, And Mandy too, to name a few. Needn’t I have looked so far To be the greatest of cliches. The drugs and raves led me astray. For writers, scotch is more on par. Half your bottle drank away, Half full in my state of mind. Every sip; sublime and kind, Every **** a harshened spray. Now I’m stuck, a drunken haze Has washed and swept the ways of rhyme. In its tide is also time, As by the sun, the night decays. Whisky, polished, final sip. Like the bottle, I am dry. So, I tried, to write not high. This poem ***** I’m off to trip.
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Aug 21, 2018
Aug 21, 2018 at 9:07 AM UTC
Amber is the colour of my energy