"schnapps" poems
trip up the island to see all the folk
monopoly, pong => pig 'n a poke
crystalline glass with dark bitter ale
Santa is looking a little bit pale
cherry red cheeks from a chilled chardonnay
one sailing wait for the talk of the day
drum sticks and dressing are the pick of the bird
chestnuts and brandy for gravy being stirred
brussels and taters are pulled from the bake
pears in the salad bring memories of Jake
sparks from the fire with rich amber glow
grey hair and wrinkles will come...don't you know?
gingerbread man with a white icing smile
candy cane schnapps (with its seasonal style!)
pine cones and tinsel that cover the tree
carols are humming from churches and streets
cold winter nights are the best of the year
chocolate and eggnog await with good cheer
a heavy thick fog approaches the sound
the comforts of Christmas, with joy all around!
Dec 10, 2017
Dec 10, 2017 at 9:48 PM UTC
Met her up in the club
Drinking her pineapple schnapps
I took a chance,
asked her for a dance, she said yes
So I said take my hand
from the moment we met
I just knew we would connect
Felt the sparks fly
between you and I
She gives me that electrical feel
Shocked to the heart
The blood rush starts
One taste of her strawberry kiss
From her red cherry coloured lips
To the sweet caress from her fingertips
It had me feeling like this,
I love every little thing about you
I love every little thing that you do
(You know it)
I want your loving
Yeah baby it's true (You know it)
I can't get you off of my mind girl
(You know it, you know it)
Come and get on it
I want it (You know that I do)
Your bubble gum tongue
Your passion, your love
The connection we feel (So surreal)
Come on get on
We want it, I see that you do
(I know your feeling it to) Girl
It's the way that we sweat
In the passion, in ***
Out of breath
By the end
Fall asleep in your bed
Her head on my chest
You know that feeling
It's the best,
I love every little thing about you
I love every little thing that you do
(You know it)
I want your loving
Yeah baby it's true (You know it)
I can't get you off of my mind girl
(You know it, you know it)
Come and get on it
I want it (You know that I do)
Your bubble gum tongue
Your passion, your love
The connection we feel (So surreal)
Come on get on it
We want it, I see that you do
(I know your feeling it to) Girl
She likes it when,
I run my fingers through her hair
I see your feeling the attraction we share
Yeah we both feel it there
I can feel your body heat on mine
Yeah you know that's something I like
You know you got the look girl
You know you got me hooked girl
You know we got it good girl
Couldn't have made it any better
If I threw a wishing stone
Into a wishing well
She knows we got it good and,
I love every little thing about you
I love every little thing that you do
(You know it)
I want your loving
Yeah baby it's true (You know it)
I can't get you off of my mind girl
(You know it, you know it)
Come and get on it
I want it (You know that I do)
Your bubble gum tongue
Your passion, your love
The connection we feel (So surreal)
Come on get on it
We want it, I see that you do
(I know your feeling it to) Girl
©2019 Written By Benji James
Jul 1, 2019
Jul 1, 2019 at 6:11 PM UTC
Named for you alone
I call it 'Sugar Apples'
Green apple schnapps
and thimbles of a pink
pomegranate liqueur
add some **** tamarind
then sweet chilli sugar
before splashes of gin
to your taste and cry
Shaking in romance
and a lovely organic
cloudy apple juice
A pianist sings love
"*Moonlight slumbers
in your heart*..."
A rosy red jug full
to sweeten our kisses
sipped from each
carved sugar apple
through long straws
Where do I shake it
to cradle your heart
David x
Jul 18, 2010
Jul 18, 2010 at 11:51 AM UTC
Welcome to my home, oh won't you come in?
Allow me to show you around, would you care for a drink?
Tell me your poison, maybe a highball of gin?
I keep it in the kitchen with the coffeepot by the sink,
or maybe you'd prefer a tumbler of crown?
Whiskey is right in the foyer by the doorstop,
there's nothing like a nip right before I bounce.
And if it's wine you crave, it's in the living room atop
the tube television beside the VCR in it's place.
But if you've a tongue for peach schnapps
then make your way to the crawl space.
Whilst your up there I say, would you do me a fave?
Look in the attic for the bourbon, it's beside my baby pictures,
and bring it down for me. I'm sure that I saved
some from the last time I was up there alone with self-stricture.
Oh you don't care for bourbon, then maybe some brandy?
The cognac is somewhere down the basement,
but ignore the rope and the candies.
You're unsettled you say? Then rum's how to spend
drinking the night away with me in the den.
OH! Just send a beer your way?! you should've just said!
A six-pack's in the bathroom, right next to the head.
Mar 4, 2015
Mar 4, 2015 at 8:48 PM UTC
*"What are you doing here? You're not even old enough to know how bad life gets."
"Obviously, Doctor, you've never been a thirteen year-old girl." ~ The ****** Suicides*
The smell of teenage lipstick and sunbeams
Why are they different from us?
(it's so great they are different from us)
These memories of our youth,
transient,
will mean more than the permanent ones of adulthood.
The flash sparkle of amber in her eyes
high and low pressure air combined
my name on your *******
breaking smoke circles
the sound of vinyl stabbed
just listen to them,
the taste of peach schnapps.
"You don't have to talk to me."
terrible sources of information
"We weren't talking if you know what I mean..."
And off they go to join the thirty-thousand plus
Apr 18, 2011
Apr 18, 2011 at 6:52 AM UTC
You’re a puzzle
Thousands of missing pieces
When I reach to hold you
I touch the missing spaces
You’re going nowhere
Awfully fast
Pedal to the metal
Hope this high will last
“Do you see me?”
Your mother snaps.
Can’t hear. Ears
overflowing with schnapps
Addiction coded in genes.
Father to son it passes
The pattern continues
Passed along in ***** glasses
Dec 22, 2012
Dec 22, 2012 at 4:05 PM UTC
Mr Kalashnikov I'll ask you nicely
Please don't point that thing at me
Laszlo Biro how nice to see you
Without you where would we be?
Mr Molotov may I remind you
You are in polite company
May I present the Earl of Sandwich
Do partake of his wares
And special desserts are served soon after
Presented in person by Anna Pavlova
The Duke of Wellington brought in some mud
Mr Macintosh is expecting a flood
Candido Jacuzzi and Joseph Pilates
Appear to be making friends
Henry Shrapnel and Joseph Guillotin
Who invited them?
Ferdinand von Zeppelin,
Perhaps you would like a schnapps?
Mr Winchester, Mr Colt, Mr Gatling, Mr Lewis
So many gunmen I'm alarmed I confess
May I trouble you Mr Hoover
To help tidy up the mess?
Nov 17, 2014
Nov 17, 2014 at 4:00 PM UTC
I viewed our pictures,
Our visual memories,
And felt the chill
On the back of my knees,
of that cold winter morning,
Where the dorms were cold,
and classes cancelled,
and we walked out in the snow,
near knee deep,
and photographed the children playing.
Where we ran into Snowstorm,
Shivering in his sweatpants,
While doing the same as we.
So we drank our whiskey,
warmed by our hot apple cider,
and hot cocoa with schnapps,
While you viewed my photos,
Telling me,
“they’re your best you’ve done,
I love you,
I’m cold, let’s warm up
Like lovers do,
On winter nights.”
And convinced each other
We’d be the ones to hold
One another tight when
Our lives ever got out of hand,
To this cold again,
Together.
And with lights fading,
And buzzes deflating,
At last you told me,
Those pictures weren’t
As good as I meant them to be.
Aug 11, 2013
Aug 11, 2013 at 2:27 AM UTC
This pub. This chair.
BUT-- by this time, that year,
you were driving me to the airport--
Like you were sending me off to war--
Like you doubted whether I would actually come home this time.
That was the first time you lost me.
The second was after a few too many Peppermint Schnapps,
and I walked you downtown,
through each stage of rejection,
smiling.
The third and fourth are no short story,
mostly for all the time between them,
but also because there are parts of me you'll never get back.
Dark lights, locked doors.
Today the pub is closed.
Sorry. That's the way it has to be.
Oct 24, 2012
Oct 24, 2012 at 12:42 AM UTC
who's afraid of
someone who downed 140cl of whiskey
going blind blah duck blah
qua qua quack for each and
every dwarf like ***** wonka tasting cyanide
saying: it's syrian blue cheese, or else middle
eastern schnapps! refreeze! refreeze the snowman!
we got a bucket-load of adverts in nappies
for charity companies; every parishioner on the ready...
gluttony regurgitated go! blow inserted into the
word blah, akin to bloat but with blah the cursor.
Feb 28, 2016
Feb 28, 2016 at 10:59 PM UTC
dearly beloved i've gathered you here today
to remind you of the smell of your father
the warm feeling you got when he held your hands
love feels that way
like home
darlings i search for a man like my father
the same age
who felt the same way looking down on me with love
the same smell, the same warmth when he holds my hands
i search for a man who feels like home
All i want is a man on prom night who
will give me enough love to write his name on my *******
a man who will give me enough dignity to drink schnapps and not feel ashamed
May 2, 2016
May 2, 2016 at 12:41 AM UTC
Numbles is a fictitious place, a state of mind.
I go there from time to time
in search of rhyme and reason
When required
Here in Numbles The calliope plays non stop
words fall from the hopper neatly written out,
written neatly on white plastic ***** the size of owl's eggs.
They roll down the chute and line up
in rational sentences of pure opaque poetry.
Unabashed and shameless a bit cocky eh wot.
An I dont give a dam a style like the
party girl who just hit her liquor limit
She has one shoe in her hand and her purse
in the other Tipsy?
I used to get budded, drop a 33 LP
diamond needle with a brush,
Wax was a choice over tape or disc
just a better eargasmic experience.
Numbles here I come.
Reverse engineering the things I'd been hearing
Oz .The sun shone in neon streams and the
gusting breezes tasted like cool peppermint schnapps
The cops wore broad pinstripes and penny loafers.
A storybook ending every time
The pieces of the poem puzzles
cake walked with spated shoes .
like homing pigeons on the wing
to roost and coo, they knew.
Numbles is the place where
the sky was ever-blue.
I still day trip to that magical place
sans herbalsupplimentation.
or distilledfermentation.
Sleepdeprivation gets me to the towns square
All my old friends are there
still.
.
Nov 26, 2012
Nov 26, 2012 at 3:01 AM UTC
The name is Kringle
But so few know
When I'm working I use my other name
Where I almost glow in the dark
Such joy I spread
But I've never let it go to my head
I work year round except the the first two weeks of the New Year
I'm exhausted from the deliveries
Amazon, have no fear
But I'll keep it up, been doing it so long
Christmas would not be Christmas without me rolling along
I need to clear something up, that false story
I never kissed any mommy; got Mrs. Santa to satisfy me
To surprise me with presents on Christmas Day
After the reindeer are settled
We have schnapps and then we play.
Nov 30, 2016
Nov 30, 2016 at 12:00 PM UTC
Let’s go, you and I.
And sweat beneath the African sky
Watch the lions lazing
And the wild dogs playing.
We can sip Amarula
And listen to the hyenas laugh and cry
As the mythical sunset
Silhouettes giraffes and Acacia trees.
Let’s go, you and I
And walk the streets of old town Barcelona.
Find old timey cafe and luxuriate
In sangria and itty bitty tapas
Stroll by Sagrada and gawp
At Gaudi’s home.
Maybe we’ll stop for some ice cream
Maybe we’ll just go back to the hotel
Let’s go, you and I
And swim the blue blue seas of the Bahamas
Nervously Play with the nurse sharks
Hoping they’re not the other sharks
Take those long walks on those beaches
That everyone likes.
We’ll sit on Jankanoo and drink sky juice
Until we can truly reach the heavens
Let’s go, you and I
And ski the Slopes of the Swiss alps
We can stop at small cabins and drink
heartwarming schnapps
Take trains that slink around mountains
And sprint through white capped forests
We can put snow down the backs
Of each others jackets and
Squeal in furious delight.
Let’s go, you and I.
And squish our way through the streets of New York
Relieved when we can pop into a shop
To escape the crowds.
Necks sore from looking up
Small town people in the Big Apple City
Central Park for pretzels and Snapple
Times Square later, neon addiction sated.
And a boat ride to see lady liberty
Let’s go, you and I
And bare our feet in Balinese temples
Speak to the monks in broken English
And then retire to our curtained gazebo
To indulge in the sins they can’t
We’ll get massages and champagne
Then ride our bikes along pothole
Ridden dirt roads.
Let’s go, you and I
And get Nuevo Chic in London’s west end
We can catch a show in tux and evening gown
Then head to the pub and catch a pint
We can walk the trail, hunt Jack the Ripper
And visit The Tower.
Cross the Thames and maybe
No definitely
Another pint in some quaint little place.
Let’s go, you and I
And lie in bed late on lazy Sunday mornings
I’ll poach the eggs and make the hollandaise
You can put some upbeat daytime jazz on
Then we can go sit in the garden
Under the oak tree and read
Each other poetry
Until it’s much much later
...
Mar 20, 2018
Mar 20, 2018 at 8:33 AM UTC
severed , fish on the block
head I sit
ripe as a two year old egg
shelled
bitter as vinegar mixed with jack
Black stirred into a margarita and two shots of
house bourbon a beeker of *** two
fingers of peepermint schnapps
and a handi-wipe
for a napkin
moderating an argument between this big woman
and a bear of a man
about the rules of pool
whether balls are big small which
both of them dripping ice from their nostrils wild *** eyed
trying to slip off the far edge of the stool and at least go ****
they have me surrounded
one in my left ear big girl in my right
any closer their teeth would take a bite
sneered she does good and he all 6 4 350 lbs of him
reeks of hard work and the drout
I see clouds overhead
clouds everywhere
a lot of spit
little rain
Mar 17, 2017
Mar 17, 2017 at 2:46 AM UTC
distant foothills in the pre-dawn haze
draw my memories back to youthful exuberance
pond fishing under clear sky
creak tromping in the search of the perfect agate
pockets full of jasper and quartz
as if pebbles were treasure
pleasurable day-dream
measure of peace –
wafting peppermint
transports me to a snow covered logging road
schnapps and a trap line
bobcats lured with carcasses tied to trees
scent jar in a vest pocket
and a 22 ruger on the hip
smooth clean strokes
hide on the shoulder
another carcass in a tree rinse and repeat –
long barren abandon railroad
lacking ties
lies
cinder rock sunbaked
sage and Juniper
mule deer and pronghorn
lonely cottontail narrowing avoiding
hungry coyote gaze
sunsets cast purple shadows
orange and pink streaks stretch the horizon
flat backed in green grass
smiling into infinity
Jun 4, 2014
Jun 4, 2014 at 11:57 AM UTC
Dear Dad,
I don’t want to come home for Christmas this year.
College has been ****** and I hate it here.
Mom, doesn’t seem to care, she wants me in sports.
I just want to go to college in a school near water ports.
I miss the ocean, and the mountains.
But I don’t miss your alcoholic stains.
I’m miserable in this place, I don’t fit in, I don’t have friends.
But I won’t come home for Christmas this year, unless your drinking ends.
My whole life you’ve had the buzz, forgetting words in your head.
Do you remember all the promises you broke? That sent your little girl crying back to bed.
I’m not a little girl anymore.
Put down the schnapps, you know they make you snore.
I’m tired of being belittled, and you won’t know why I’m mad.
I’m tired of hiding in corners crying, trying to lie I’m not sad.
Dad I’m not coming home for christmas this year.
Don’t get me wrong I love you, and hold you dear.
But dad, I’m not coming home for Christmas this year.
Please, put down your beer.
-The youngest
Sep 11, 2015
Sep 11, 2015 at 1:44 AM UTC
This parachute is crushing my ribs so that
my knees buckle when I land.
I feel sick.
I ***** up post-its and
menthol cigarettes
and pages of a movie script.
Inside jokes drip off my chin
when my eyes
roll back inside my head.
There's too much sweat
on my upper lip out,
out without warning doubled over
come collaborated lyrics that ****
sticking to quotes from books that speak to us.
I put a message in a full bottle of
gingerbread schnapps
so you won't know what it says
when you get drunk
and this parachute won't come off.
Apr 25, 2010
Apr 25, 2010 at 12:16 AM UTC
Numb.
That is what I want.
To be numb.
Not for forever.
Just for a little while.
To forget the sorrow.
To forget the heartbreak.
To be happy.
So let me numb myself.
With shots of ***
Whiskey.
Schnapps.
Tequila.
Anything.
Until the feeling is gone.
Until I am happy.
Dancing around.
Laughing.
Let me calm my mind
With hits off the pipe.
And drink until the sun comes up.
Until I can forget about you.
About everything.
Let me drink away it all.
Not for forever,
But just for the night.
Jan 6, 2014
Jan 6, 2014 at 8:09 PM UTC
I like drinking, I really do.
I know that it worries you.
My grandfather is an alcoholic,
and so is my father.
I'm not one,
but every girl is a little bit like her father.
For me, it's a little more than a bit.
He's a quiet man, absent, tortured.
He likes red wine, Crown on the rocks,
and making people laugh.
He hates his job
and himself.
I would say that these things aren't true for me,
but then I'd be lying.
My father and I
order the same things at restaurants,
laugh at each other's jokes,
and like Hemingway more than most.
I'll drink anything,
just like my father.
Whiskey, ***** beer, schnapps,
well, anything besides tequila...
Christmas break two years ago was a rough time.
I really wish you wouldn't worry about my drinking.
You see, people don't usually worry about me.
I was raised by a single mother
who didn't even have time to make dinner,
much less worry about me,
the middle child.
My father wasn't usually around,
but I guess our similarities are genetic.
I guess I'm kind of scared
that you care so much
because then I actually have someone
to impress,
someone to make proud.
To make my father proud
is to like the same kind of beer as him.
I haven't quite figured out, yet, how to make you proud.
Aug 14, 2014
Aug 14, 2014 at 7:38 PM UTC
*the mirror eyes of the corpse, long after people
voiced their concern of the fear of seeing
them no longer blinking, or allowing a peering
into the window of soul, either shuttering
them still to suit the numb limbs, or preparing
them with two coins for Charon and the crossing
of the Styx - that foul river of modern combustion
engine ointments of unrefined diesel.*
i'm angry at my piano of letters,
i call it the dog whistle piano,
the silent piano that rightly can also be
compared to a machine gun -
and that dumb musicology of poetry
is rhyme, or as one english teacher
revealed, the poetic alphabet of 52 letterings:
roses are red (a)
violets are blue (b)
dearest repertoire of procrastination's jive (c)
a head donning a beehive (c)
better dead than red (a)
i wrote this wearing only one shoe (b)...
and like this onto:
bring in the four elements,
atheists argue life ought to be like air,
never connected to skeletal structures,
randomised in atomic form and our bodies too,
the ones citing life's arguments
using earth have the easy inhibitory
village life, they're the characters
on b.b.c. radio 4's the archers (not
that peach schnapps, the mighty
"i'm living on a farm yo ** **
what do you call a non-urban benefits
system? farming subsidy) -
those of argument from water we take
to imply basically all of us -
the fiery ones' motto better to burn out
than fade away - the 27 club -
and then the lightning ones
are stuck in a dying light-bulb epilepsy
of constant mirroring rejuvenation -
mind you, the moths are bewildered,
it's a lysergic acid (can you imagine
a lysergic alkaline?) trip for them,
so they don't even bother smacking the
**** thing for an instant light-bulb-tan:
moths invented u.v. sun-tan parlours long
before we had the thought of it.
Mar 6, 2016
Mar 6, 2016 at 6:15 AM UTC
hair dashing vision deploy sud featherless\
motion in active taste bud slipped on eternal\
tip of my tongue whistle lunge internally\
**** drizzle dripped seating scampi intestine\
grip swung intensity hitting uvula grump\
the bedroom slippers pajama snap running\
throat hiccups stuck doll sitting smudge crap\
pat tack in scratch mouth I due alley loop mucus\
packing trunk wood you irritate stove chappy baker\
hunk the lock spinning the sling cling on schnapps\
surviving by the beer Craving Peace of ear confession minding\
the sake of better judgement intrigue maleficent impression\
spite traditional contraceptive contradict hypocritical Kitab rewrite\
Ktab inducting paschen arrange friction pronounce tissue adjudicated\
hit or miss mission issue clevis tension ******** metabolism buoyant crevice\
sullied virginity abolishing hip ripping meat window damp moist cherry\
fur confined steed Structurally Mounting **** transcoding soil instrumenting\
matrimony ring band regent gown slapping *** crack Larry the Cable Guy wed\
Din Din Baby Fat Naming like/
be Naming Baby Shat Chat/
bei spin nozzle creek up/
drift bottleneck swifty/
dream line bleachers/
above the body top/
under tummy tuck/
wackbush stroke/
c ******** broad/
Jul 9, 2017
Jul 9, 2017 at 3:37 PM UTC
Met her up in the club
Drinking her pineapple schnapps
I took a chance,
asked her for a dance, she said yes
So I said take my hand
from the moment we met
I just knew we would connect
Felt the sparks fly
between you and I
She gives me that electrical feel
Shocked to the heart
The blood rush starts
One taste of her strawberry kiss
From her red cherry coloured lips
To the sweet caress from her fingertips
It had me feeling like this.
I love every little thing about you
I love every little thing that you do
(You know it)
I want your loving
Yeah, baby, it's true (You know it)
I can't get you off of my mind girl
(You know it, you know it)
Come and get on it
I want it (You know that I do)
Your bubble gum tongue
Your passion, your love
The connection we feel (So surreal)
Come on get on it.
We want it, I see that you do
(I know you're feeling it too) Girl
It's the way that we sweat
In the passion, in ***
Out of breath
By the end
Fall asleep in your bed
Her head on my chest
You know that feeling
It's the best,
I love every little thing about you
I love every little thing that you do
(You know it)
I want your loving
Yeah, baby, it's true (You know it)
I can't get you off of my mind girl
(You know it, you know it)
Come and get on it
I want it (You know that I do)
Your bubble gum tongue
Your passion, your love
The connection we feel (So surreal)
Come on get on it.
We want it, I see that you do
(I know you're feeling it too) Girl
She likes it when,
I run my fingers through her hair
I see your feeling the attraction we share
Yeah we both feel it there
I can feel your body heat on mine
Yeah you know that's something I like
You know you got the look girl
You know you got me, hooked girl
You know we got it, good girl
Couldn't have made it any better
If I threw a wishing stone
Into a wishing well
She knows we got it good and,
I love every little thing about you
I love every little thing that you do
(You know it)
I want your loving
Yeah, baby, it's true (You know it)
I can't get you off of my mind girl
(You know it, you know it)
Come and get on it
I want it (You know that I do)
Your bubble gum tongue
Your passion, your love
The connection we feel (So surreal)
Come on get on it.
We want it, I see that you do
(I know you're feeling it too) Girl
©2017 Written By Benji James
Jul 24, 2017
Jul 24, 2017 at 4:20 AM UTC
Wail
Whine
And flail
Regale us with your colorful photographic memory
But use discretion, there are children here
We had Schnapps in a spray bottle
At the time I had the most unsightly uni-brow
And they asked us all to define the term "tongue-in-cheek"
We laughed and said, "Never go *** to mouth!"
We got suspended
We decided to pull out the heavy artillery
And painted a giant **** on the side of the school
We needed an auxiliary artist
So we hired an abstract
He spray painted "Get up and go, lay down and die"
Right on the main entrance, so incredibly serupticiously
And in such an irregular manner, as if he put every ounce of his disdain towards that institution of lower learning in every movement
Like Van Gogh in real life live action
The next morning, hot off the press was our act of vandalism
We foiled the plans of the faculty to have a nice school day
They acted perfectly, like it was scripted
Angry, horrified and ashamed
The sound of us patting ourselves on the back was incomparable to anything we've ever felt
Even my incontinent grandmother laughed
But soon all the movers and shakers at city hall demanded the ones guilty were found
They rechecked the security footage again and again
They went through student records
It all lead to us
They picked me up while I lied drunk on top of scraps of nonsensical
writings
I resisted arrest and became a victim of police brutality
Knight sticks slammed into my chest
Tips of pointed boots driven into my stomach
And demeaning verbal abuse to my person
The aftermath was all of us serving six months in juvy
Surrounded by incompetent correction officers
And just waiting for our boys to spring us
If I had a chance to do it all over, I'd do it all again
Jun 21, 2014
Jun 21, 2014 at 2:58 PM UTC