"kahlua" poems
Always see the world through rose-colored glasses and
The classy lady always orders the cosmopolitan
I’ve always preferred Miller light
But I’ll raise my Cosmo up in a salute to him
Always hide your Butterfinger wrappers in the fire—
“That’s where Grammie won’t find them”
A man of his stature, success
Shouldn’t have to keep such secrets from his Babe
We know she’s only looking out for him
But nothing will keep him from the simple pleasures life has to offer
Not even his Babe
When we were young he told us
Of the Fuckawee Indian tribe that settled Northern Michigan
And how, maybe, just maybe
If we yelled loud enough
They would peek out at us from behind the thick foliage
After dinner he’d take us kids on his evening cocktail cruise
(Once again hiding from Babe)
With a Gerrity mixed drink in his hand
(He wasn’t allowed ice cream, or ***** and Kahlua)
We’d cruise by the house and call out
To the tribe that settled our sacred land and
To our shocked parents on the distant shore line
“Where the Fuckawee?”
How to drive a boat and How to touch the world and
How to love unconditionally and How to enjoy every moment
How to stand up for what you believe and How to have fun doing it
How to follow the rules, and more importantly How to break them
Looking up and down the rows and rows of
White folding chairs
Watching these salty lessons dribble down the faces of those he touched
The young, the old
The Brazilian, the English who always asked for the Irishman's list
The family, the friends, and those who admired from a far
We come together, here
To celebrate all we learned from him
How to work to the top from the bottom
How to touch the lives of so many
and
Most importantly,
How to fill your heart with love for
The Luckiest Family in the World
That I have around me now,
Thanks to the Luckiest Man in the World
Oct 18, 2012
Oct 18, 2012 at 5:14 PM UTC
Fight fight fight
the sleep
the
fat
ig
ueNO
must stay awake.
For Kahlua coffee and 3 AM conversations.
Must must must.
Maybe it's ap
NEA I'm awake I promise Mama
you don't have to wake me up
from my midnight nap just
please please please
let me sleep
sleep sleep sleep.
I miss bedtime stories and
laughing laughing laughing,
even the word looks like
it's happy.
I miss not having to stress over
tests tests tests
for chemistry and pregnancy and honesty.
But I miss
you you you
and our songs
I miss you and our grass and our songs
the most
most most most.
Apr 17, 2013
Apr 17, 2013 at 2:08 PM UTC
It’s 1:30am and we were at a cute little dance club in Dublin called “The Sugar Club.” It’s a converted movie theater with tables in stadium seating rows. That night was Salsa themed, and the regulars were stylin’ - the men dressed in white Havana or Colima, Italian Linen and women in bright salsa dresses.
The DJ was mixing a gr8 groove - with music from Bassia, Brazilian Girls, Kate the Cat, with some ElectroSwing thrown in from Tape Five, Pink Martini and Doja Cat (Yes, I asked the DJ for his playlist). The tiny, darkly-disco-sparkling dance floor was crowded and refrigerator cold.
We had a good time. Irish guys are funny and unpredictable, they’ll say practically anything, “Shall I buy you a drink, or do you just want the money?” and those brogues make everything they say spankin’ hot.
We all danced a few times, but Sunny’s a gwyn who never seemed to tire. Guys kept asking her to dance and she seemed happy to oblige - I would have collapsed already.
There was a dead-fit guy, Rían, throwing a strong Chris Evans vibe, who seemed completely smitten with Sunny. He seemed a real dean but he didn’t 404 that Sunny’s femme-facing and that he might as well be offering lettuce to a shark.
We’d discussed the possibility that things might come up and decided to avoid delicate public acts of disclosure (Sunny’s gay, Leong’s a communist, etc..) - we’re trespassing different cultures on this trip, after all.
We explained to Rían that we were students, just in town for the Duran Duran concert, and consoled him with a couple of “Black & Golds” (Kahlua, whiskey and orange bitters) - he was a LOT of fun to talk to.
The bartender asked me if I was one of the colleens with “Margot Robbie” - he was referring to Lisa - which Anna found amusing - but I think Lisa’s way phater than Margot.
Jun 17, 2022
Jun 17, 2022 at 3:32 PM UTC
-
between
santa cruz red
and
kahlua & cream,
there's little room
for anything more
than
a nosebleed
holding hands
with
breakdown,
while self-loathing
gets cozy
with
denial.
-
Jan 29, 2013
Jan 29, 2013 at 3:44 AM UTC
On weekends, mixed in my coffee cup
Amaretto
Kahlua
Baileys Irish Creme
sometimes even Jack or Jim Beam
Usually black, though, for the day to day
my boss looks down on drinking at work
and I have bills to pay
Glorious, as it burns down my throat
a few minutes later the caffeine kicks in
and I am fueled up for the day
Time to be productive and earn my way
At Christmas a bit of eggnog
into my morning brew
It gets me in the spirit
to bite off what I need to chew
Summertime evenings
you'll never guess
a scoop of vanilla ice cream
is simply the best
Nov 29, 2016
Nov 29, 2016 at 11:02 PM UTC