I see a lot of types of entertainment in this forum, but no other form has been more represented by drunkards than writing.
So this thread will be dedicated to creation of drunken prose and poetry.
I'm going to start first...
Drunken Literature - Bring it if you got it...
Moderators: Artful Drunktective, mistah willies, NYDingbat, Judge, oettinger, Oggar, Badfellow, Mr Boozificator
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Drunken Literature - Bring it if you got it...
"They told me to see the glass half full cause some see it as half empty
I chose to see the glass twice the size it needed to be" - Pharoahe Monch, 'Broken Again'
I chose to see the glass twice the size it needed to be" - Pharoahe Monch, 'Broken Again'
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Re: Drunken Literature - Bring it if you got it...
Turn Off Your Mind, Relax…
Originally published 02-27-06
She
feels it on her fingertips, the gritty grip of a bad dream,
buzzing the back of her brain stem.
Spilling her caffeine…as the car spins on its axels and axis,
giving access into puddles of mental struggle
with prescription tablets of Xanax, Alprazolam
she reels and rolls her hands…weaves in and out of traffic,
as well as the stony glances of bystanders swerving nervously.
Anxiety deficient, until the minute it wears off,
then she violently will fidget; fighting the stares off
with Vicodin. There. Gone. Don’t like it, it’s their loss.
Whose “they?” The stares of unprepared laggers in the World
Race to Success. Clutching hearts, attacking the backs of those
chasing regrets with tap water martinis,
garnished with Zoloft or Paxil, Prozac, thrown back
…she coasts off.
Hyrdroplaning on a good cry’s worth of rain water,
her brain ogles the road through a migraine’s goggles,
tinted in Topamax turquoise,
she sees the Rolls Royce, clips and dents its fender,
the driver riffs with no voice. No time for miniscule berating,
drifting at eighty, she has a meeting with the bored
and her Ritalin’s fading. Happiness is at her doorstep,
a simple fingertip touch. And Vioxx will unlock it
from the future’s arthritic clutch.
She’ll celebrate with celebrex,
letting the blessings come, because the fire in her heart
consumed the Nexium. Gripping the wheel, feeling fit
on a Lipitor high, her happiness awaited separated
by the blink of an eye. It’s in the time span
one can swallow and clear a pill
or a pot hole can wrestle
away the steering wheel.
Bottles of Viagra, scattered
and useless, Bextra, Crestor, Cialis, Asprin,
Wellbutrin…Celexa. A bloody cocktail
to quinch the death-palled palette; a ballad of loss,
a shattered glass, tossed salad.
In the middle is the someone
lost in the conundrum of one fast life’s average,
everyday drug run.
Originally published 02-27-06
She
feels it on her fingertips, the gritty grip of a bad dream,
buzzing the back of her brain stem.
Spilling her caffeine…as the car spins on its axels and axis,
giving access into puddles of mental struggle
with prescription tablets of Xanax, Alprazolam
she reels and rolls her hands…weaves in and out of traffic,
as well as the stony glances of bystanders swerving nervously.
Anxiety deficient, until the minute it wears off,
then she violently will fidget; fighting the stares off
with Vicodin. There. Gone. Don’t like it, it’s their loss.
Whose “they?” The stares of unprepared laggers in the World
Race to Success. Clutching hearts, attacking the backs of those
chasing regrets with tap water martinis,
garnished with Zoloft or Paxil, Prozac, thrown back
…she coasts off.
Hyrdroplaning on a good cry’s worth of rain water,
her brain ogles the road through a migraine’s goggles,
tinted in Topamax turquoise,
she sees the Rolls Royce, clips and dents its fender,
the driver riffs with no voice. No time for miniscule berating,
drifting at eighty, she has a meeting with the bored
and her Ritalin’s fading. Happiness is at her doorstep,
a simple fingertip touch. And Vioxx will unlock it
from the future’s arthritic clutch.
She’ll celebrate with celebrex,
letting the blessings come, because the fire in her heart
consumed the Nexium. Gripping the wheel, feeling fit
on a Lipitor high, her happiness awaited separated
by the blink of an eye. It’s in the time span
one can swallow and clear a pill
or a pot hole can wrestle
away the steering wheel.
Bottles of Viagra, scattered
and useless, Bextra, Crestor, Cialis, Asprin,
Wellbutrin…Celexa. A bloody cocktail
to quinch the death-palled palette; a ballad of loss,
a shattered glass, tossed salad.
In the middle is the someone
lost in the conundrum of one fast life’s average,
everyday drug run.
"They told me to see the glass half full cause some see it as half empty
I chose to see the glass twice the size it needed to be" - Pharoahe Monch, 'Broken Again'
I chose to see the glass twice the size it needed to be" - Pharoahe Monch, 'Broken Again'
- mistah willies
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Re: Drunken Literature - Bring it if you got it...
^ ^ ^
Prop this here up. Yessah.
I'll have to look for that poem to the Mr. Viking dude about his bicyclees that I performed here on this site a few years ago
Prop this here up. Yessah.
I'll have to look for that poem to the Mr. Viking dude about his bicyclees that I performed here on this site a few years ago
- mistah willies
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Re: Drunken Literature - Bring it if you got it...
Almost found it.
Getting closer...
Getting closer...
mistah willies wrote: ↑Fri Jan 23, 2015 7:25 pmMr. Viking wrote:I found cigarettes in a coat I haven't worn for a while. And I wsa thinking of giving it up too. Oh well, fate has other ideas
This calls for another Drunkard Poem.
Ode To Olde Smokes, by olde smokin' willies, (inspired by Mr. Viking)
Forlorn, forgotten, covered in lint
in a pocket of a jacket in a far-flung whorl
on an arm of the spiral, alone in the starlit sea
where time has no meaning,
We smoke for the pleasure and head rush we've missed.
Spark of a new life, lit from a flint,
Reborn again as Phoenix; his fiery wings unfurl!
We recognize that these things are put here for you and me.
Tobacco convening
With Lovely Miss Ethyl, you know you've been kissed.
Mmmmm.
Kiss that Lovely Lady Ethyl deeply. She has the best flavor, in all of her dresses.
yessah
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Re: Drunken Literature - Bring it if you got it...
See, this is where I fuck up , because everyone is, in my mind, better than me. And Willies is no different:mistah willies wrote: ↑Mon Mar 09, 2020 5:12 pmAlmost found it.
Getting closer...
mistah willies wrote: ↑Fri Jan 23, 2015 7:25 pmMr. Viking wrote:I found cigarettes in a coat I haven't worn for a while. And I wsa thinking of giving it up too. Oh well, fate has other ideas
This calls for another Drunkard Poem.
Ode To Olde Smokes, by olde smokin' willies, (inspired by Mr. Viking)
Forlorn, forgotten, covered in lint
in a pocket of a jacket in a far-flung whorl
on an arm of the spiral, alone in the starlit sea
where time has no meaning,
We smoke for the pleasure and head rush we've missed.
Spark of a new life, lit from a flint,
Reborn again as Phoenix; his fiery wings unfurl!
We recognize that these things are put here for you and me.
Tobacco convening
With Lovely Miss Ethyl, you know you've been kissed.
Mmmmm.
Kiss that Lovely Lady Ethyl deeply. She has the best flavor, in all of her dresses.
yessah
"In a pocket of a jacket in a far-flung whorl..."
really dude...
Goddamnit
"They told me to see the glass half full cause some see it as half empty
I chose to see the glass twice the size it needed to be" - Pharoahe Monch, 'Broken Again'
I chose to see the glass twice the size it needed to be" - Pharoahe Monch, 'Broken Again'
- mistah willies
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Re: Drunken Literature - Bring it if you got it...
Oh hell no. Never a competition. More of equal appreciation for good wit, and DRINK!Rye and Coke wrote: ↑Tue Mar 10, 2020 8:06 pmSee, this is where I fuck up , because everyone is, in my mind, better than me.
…as the car spins on its axels and axis,
giving access into puddles of mental struggle
Alliterative allegations abound. Damn fine internal rhyme scheme, to boot
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Re: Drunken Literature - Bring it if you got it...
I swear to god, I just reread a unfinished story I wrote between 2008-10 and figured out how to end it. I have goddamn tears in my eyes and a hard-on thinking about how perfect this story is and how it took me turning 42 to figure it all out. WTF? WTF?!
"They told me to see the glass half full cause some see it as half empty
I chose to see the glass twice the size it needed to be" - Pharoahe Monch, 'Broken Again'
I chose to see the glass twice the size it needed to be" - Pharoahe Monch, 'Broken Again'
Re: Drunken Literature - Bring it if you got it...
Drunkardtainment was on my banned forum list until I just noticed this Drunken Literature thread preview on the main page.
A couple of months ago one of my poems was published at an ezine where I wrote about a woman I'd noticed out on the smoking patio of my bar drinking and drawing alone. She's kind of an acquaintance, we usually say Hi when we see each other. I wondered how she'd react when she saw the poem, and she said she liked it. But... she also noticed that I'd taken a jab at the regular bar patrons in the poem. What's odd about that is that it seems like none of the regulars who also read the poem seemed to notice, or if they did they made no mention of it. This isn't the first uncomplimentary poem I've written about bar regulars, and I'm always waiting for someone to get a little upset about it. So far nothing. Here's the poem: https://ryethewhiskeyreview.blogspot.co ... anton.html
A couple of months ago one of my poems was published at an ezine where I wrote about a woman I'd noticed out on the smoking patio of my bar drinking and drawing alone. She's kind of an acquaintance, we usually say Hi when we see each other. I wondered how she'd react when she saw the poem, and she said she liked it. But... she also noticed that I'd taken a jab at the regular bar patrons in the poem. What's odd about that is that it seems like none of the regulars who also read the poem seemed to notice, or if they did they made no mention of it. This isn't the first uncomplimentary poem I've written about bar regulars, and I'm always waiting for someone to get a little upset about it. So far nothing. Here's the poem: https://ryethewhiskeyreview.blogspot.co ... anton.html
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Re: Drunken Literature - Bring it if you got it...
I liked it, I saw nothing insulting about the people specifically, just a critique about the environment some bars can create. But that's a general statement, all bars carry an air of stupidity and loudness. They're bars! So that's most likely why none of the patrons took offense, they probably agree with you.Hugh wrote: ↑Fri Mar 13, 2020 5:11 pmDrunkardtainment was on my banned forum list until I just noticed this Drunken Literature thread preview on the main page.
A couple of months ago one of my poems was published at an ezine where I wrote about a woman I'd noticed out on the smoking patio of my bar drinking and drawing alone. She's kind of an acquaintance, we usually say Hi when we see each other. I wondered how she'd react when she saw the poem, and she said she liked it. But... she also noticed that I'd taken a jab at the regular bar patrons in the poem. What's odd about that is that it seems like none of the regulars who also read the poem seemed to notice, or if they did they made no mention of it. This isn't the first uncomplimentary poem I've written about bar regulars, and I'm always waiting for someone to get a little upset about it. So far nothing. Here's the poem: https://ryethewhiskeyreview.blogspot.co ... anton.html
"They told me to see the glass half full cause some see it as half empty
I chose to see the glass twice the size it needed to be" - Pharoahe Monch, 'Broken Again'
I chose to see the glass twice the size it needed to be" - Pharoahe Monch, 'Broken Again'
- Rye and Coke
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Re: Drunken Literature - Bring it if you got it...
I just love subtlety. ""In a pocket of a jacket in a far-flung whorl..." is just a great fuckin' line. I like shit like that, always have. But damnit, I think this thread has helped inspire me.mistah willies wrote: ↑Fri Mar 13, 2020 11:17 amOh hell no. Never a competition. More of equal appreciation for good wit, and DRINK!Rye and Coke wrote: ↑Tue Mar 10, 2020 8:06 pmSee, this is where I fuck up , because everyone is, in my mind, better than me.
…as the car spins on its axels and axis,
giving access into puddles of mental struggle
Alliterative allegations abound. Damn fine internal rhyme scheme, to boot
"They told me to see the glass half full cause some see it as half empty
I chose to see the glass twice the size it needed to be" - Pharoahe Monch, 'Broken Again'
I chose to see the glass twice the size it needed to be" - Pharoahe Monch, 'Broken Again'
Re: Drunken Literature - Bring it if you got it...
I was preparing to back up the work on my writing laptop (I have a separate laptop for writing - DISCONNECTED from the internet) to transfer to the new laptop when it gets here. There are 700 friggin poems on that thing! Then I probably have that much more on scraps of paper in various stages of completion. From time to time I try to place a moratorium on writing new poems and force myself to write fiction, but they just slip out. In times past, I could just sit at my desk drinking and writing poems all night, finding bunches of them in the printer the next morning. I've always wished I could do the same for fiction, but once the wine goes to my head, I stop and write more stupid poems.
First glass of wine already poured. Now it's time to shut off all the lights except the dim one in the corner and sit down to drink and write. I'm going to stick to my story as long as I can. When that reflex kicks in that says, "Shut it down! You're too drunk!" I'm gonna keep writing. If I fuck it all up I can fix it in the morning.
First glass of wine already poured. Now it's time to shut off all the lights except the dim one in the corner and sit down to drink and write. I'm going to stick to my story as long as I can. When that reflex kicks in that says, "Shut it down! You're too drunk!" I'm gonna keep writing. If I fuck it all up I can fix it in the morning.
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Re: Drunken Literature - Bring it if you got it...
Hugh wrote: ↑Sat Mar 14, 2020 7:51 pmI was preparing to back up the work on my writing laptop (I have a separate laptop for writing - DISCONNECTED from the internet) to transfer to the new laptop when it gets here. There are 700 friggin poems on that thing! Then I probably have that much more on scraps of paper in various stages of completion. From time to time I try to place a moratorium on writing new poems and force myself to write fiction, but they just slip out. In times past, I could just sit at my desk drinking and writing poems all night, finding bunches of them in the printer the next morning. I've always wished I could do the same for fiction, but once the wine goes to my head, I stop and write more stupid poems.
First glass of wine already poured. Now it's time to shut off all the lights except the dim one in the corner and sit down to drink and write. I'm going to stick to my story as long as I can. When that reflex kicks in that says, "Shut it down! You're too drunk!" I'm gonna keep writing. If I fuck it all up I can fix it in the morning.
Do you ever go through your papers and find some hidden fleck of gold? I did that recently. Hey, only stick to fiction when you can, it can drain you. There's nothing more freeing and rejuvenating than poetry.
I'm just not as good at poetry as I wish I was. I think too much. I wish I could just open my mind, relax and release into poetry. I overthink EVERYTHING, so prose is my calling, I guess.
"They told me to see the glass half full cause some see it as half empty
I chose to see the glass twice the size it needed to be" - Pharoahe Monch, 'Broken Again'
I chose to see the glass twice the size it needed to be" - Pharoahe Monch, 'Broken Again'
Re: Drunken Literature - Bring it if you got it...
Not really a fleck of gold, but a poem that I had forgotten about ended up getting accepted. It was called The Courage of the Ne'er Do Well and Terror House Magazine took it along with a couple of others. It was one of those whiny poems I write when I wallow in self pity.
https://terrorhousemag.com/neighborhood ... FwdNTTmLvs
https://terrorhousemag.com/neighborhood ... FwdNTTmLvs
Re: Drunken Literature - Bring it if you got it...
I liked it. Very suicidal thoughHugh wrote: ↑Sat Mar 14, 2020 8:47 pmNot really a fleck of gold, but a poem that I had forgotten about ended up getting accepted. It was called The Courage of the Ne'er Do Well and Terror House Magazine took it along with a couple of others. It was one of those whiny poems I write when I wallow in self pity.
https://terrorhousemag.com/neighborhood ... FwdNTTmLvs
Drink!
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Re: Drunken Literature - Bring it if you got it...
I always keep my old shit especially when it confounds me at the time.Rye and Coke wrote: ↑Fri Mar 13, 2020 4:11 pmI swear to god, I just reread a unfinished story I wrote between 2008-10 and figured out how to end it. I have goddamn tears in my eyes and a hard-on thinking about how perfect this story is and how it took me turning 42 to figure it all out. WTF? WTF?!
Maybe it's like this:
We have to grow up a bit more in order to meet the piece as an equal.
I found something while looking for Mr. Viking's Bicylees poem.
Here is something from someone who doesn't post anymore. But I wish I could write something in such a structure, like that pentagram or whatcha callit meter.
The Galiant Fuck wrote: ↑Fri Mar 31, 2017 8:09 pm
ODE TO BOOZE
8/7/8/7 : 11
For Lady Savage
Across the mighty seven seas
Among the stars of trillions,
We sailed and drank as men at ease
And hauled the cache of billions.
Some stolen cash? Oh no. You see:
Unspent, relent misgivings.
Damned dry bastards with dust for pee:
Bereft of all forgivings.
Life is fleeting, then it flees
Drink is poured to drunken minions
Heart will stop and time will seize
Regardless of opinions.
We hailed our load of Ethyl fleece:
Dried out, golden, unused wings
Unspent to purchase lies of peace?
Take a sip of everythings.
We sailed to worlds in galaxies
With cargo of unspent joy.
Our work: to drink as we would please,
To chart the Island: AHOY!
I wish I knew what the hell it was about. But it seems to rhyme pretty good.
.