Drunk Meanderings

[LadyJeanne]

I was very motivated and I loved the sonnet form the way some people get into haiku. I was devouring Andrew Marvell and Shakespear and Donne at this time of my life. And there she was in the next room naked and rubbing herself; it was torture. I sweated bullets to get it to scan in words of one syllable as much as possible. I am most effective as a writer in words of one syllable.

I present ed it to her while she was wrapped in a towel and a robe and coming out of the bathroom. When I came out she met me. She said I really ought to come to her room once my wife was asleep.

And I didn't, but by that time I was more coherent. It was extremely hard to sleep though.

Genius and common sense - excellent combination.

 

[cantdog]

it was brillaint

Drunk or not, your imagination is some kinda hot Lou

I second that. Lou has a mind the rest of us probably couldn't handle.

And we do appreciate it.

 

[Guest]

I second that. Lou has a mind the rest of us probably couldn't handle.

And we do appreciate it.

That has put a massive smile on my face. Thank you!

I won't pretend that I sometimes don't have trouble handling it myself.

Lou

P.S. That quote would look just great in my sigline, mind if I do?

 

[cantdog]

Center of the world
piano legs
santa fe
drunk again

I don't know, it speaks to me. I'd say drop the last line about the pain but echo it with another quatrain which provides a little conclusion. Then you'd have something.

Drink (and other good things) can be good for inspiration, but the hard work ought to go in when you're sober, I think.

edited to add: Feel free of it, I consider it an honor.



Lou, I mean, that is. Heh.

 

[carsonshepherd]

Center of the world
piano legs
santa fe
drunk again

I don't know, it speaks to me. I'd say drop the last line about the pain but echo it with another quatrain which provides a little conclusion. Then you'd have something.

Drink (and other good things) can be good for inspiration, but the hard work ought to go in when you're sober, I think.

I'll tell you why it speaks to you. It's a ripoff of other people's words.

Piano legs: Bukowski
Santa Fe: Bob Dylan
Center of the World: a place in the arizona desert they call "the exact geogrpahical center of the world".

Cringe. God, my poetry sucks.

Edit to remind: I was only 19 or 20 when I wrote that. I was sooooo pretentious back then.

 

[OhMissScarlett]

I second that. Lou has a mind the rest of us probably couldn't handle.

And we do appreciate it.

Indeed. Lou rocks my world with her smart, sexy stories and ultra spankable av.

 

[Guest]

Feel free of it, I consider it an honor.

Lou, I mean, that is. Heh.

Thank you!

Indeed. Lou rocks my world with her smart, sexy stories and ultra spankable av.

OH! MissScarlet, that's got my world rocking. Thank you, gorgeous.

Lou

 

[OhMissScarlett]

OH! MissScarlet, that's got my world rocking. Thank you, gorgeous.

Lou

Here's something else:
A friend just told me the difference between his stoned writing and drunk writing is that when he's stoned he only writes about food and when he's drunk he only writes about sex.

This does not apply to me, since drunk or sober I really only ever write about sex.

 

[carsonshepherd]

Here's something else:
A friend just told me the difference between his stoned writing and drunk writing is that when he's stoned he only writes about food and when he's drunk he only writes about sex.

This does not apply to me, since drunk or sober I really only ever write about sex.

Food and sex.

Enough for me.

 

[OhMissScarlett]

Food and sex.

Enough for me.

Is there anything else, really?

Suppose some music is necessary too.

 

[sincerely_helene]

Make Glub To Me

I peer through
The rose colored bar glasses
No longer surrounded by black and white
I'm beautiful to me
When I look in the mirror
Until I weep
And the image becomes blurred
In a shallow pool of resentments
Detailed and unwelcome clarity

Profound oblivion
Masked deep beneath
Plastic smiles

You are always beautiful to me, though
Through rose colored bar glasses
Passion intensified
Soul naked and exposed
Vulnerable.
Defined.
Beneath plastic smiles

The vodka and diet cola
Proceed once more
To co-exist in harmony with the liver
I think I will take you up on that next shot after all
Sexy.

What did you say your name was?

 

[Guest]

Make Glub To Me

I peer through
The rose colored bar glasses
No longer surrounded by black and white
I'm beautiful to me
When I look in the mirror
Until I weep
And the image becomes blurred
In a shallow pool of resentments
Detailed and unwelcome clarity

Profound oblivion
Masked deep beneath
Plastic smiles

You are always beautiful to me, though
Through rose colored bar glasses
Passion intensified
Soul naked and exposed
Vulnerable.
Defined.
Beneath plastic smiles

The vodka and diet cola
Proceed once more
To co-exist in harmony with the liver
I think I will take you up on that next shot after all
Sexy.

What did you say your name was?

brava!
id clap but my motor skills are off

 

[sincerely_helene]

brava!
id clap but my motor skills are off

Quite alright. I'd take a bow, but I'm liable to fall on my nose.
(hic)

 

[Guest]

Quite alright. I'd take a bow, but I'm liable to fall on my nose.
(hic)

ill hold you upright and you can bow...
i swear i wont make a pass at you but i will
stare at your ass

 

[tolyk]

but i will stare at your ass

Hey, thats my line

 

[sincerely_helene]

Coupola perverts.

 

[Guest]

Hey, thats my line

cant we share
i mean really
it is helene after all.

 

[tolyk]

cant we share
i mean really
it is helene after all.

Quite right I'd bow before your wisdom, but I'm not entirely sure I'd be safe doing so

 

[Guest]

Quite right I'd bow before your wisdom, but I'm not entirely sure I'd be safe doing so

sweetie,
that could have been the nicest thing you could have said...
now, bend ovah

 

[OhMissScarlett]

Make Glub To Me

I peer through
The rose colored bar glasses
No longer surrounded by black and white
I'm beautiful to me
When I look in the mirror
Until I weep
And the image becomes blurred
In a shallow pool of resentments
Detailed and unwelcome clarity

Profound oblivion
Masked deep beneath
Plastic smiles

You are always beautiful to me, though
Through rose colored bar glasses
Passion intensified
Soul naked and exposed
Vulnerable.
Defined.
Beneath plastic smiles

The vodka and diet cola
Proceed once more
To co-exist in harmony with the liver
I think I will take you up on that next shot after all
Sexy.

What did you say your name was?

That was fantastic, Helene. I can so identify. I love a good bar-related poem.

Hey, this is my 500th post.

 

[sincerely_helene]

That was fantastic, Helene. I can so identify. I love a good bar-related poem.

Hey, this is my 500th post.

Happy 500th Post!!! (Well, 501 now.)

I'm glad you enjoyed my musings! It was quite rushed, but sometimes those are the best ones because you don't fiddle with them as much. I also did another drinky-type one some months back on Matrich's thread. Will see if I can find it for you tommorow.

 

[fogbank]

okay, I'll share a couple. I think the only time I write poetry is when I'm drunk, because I'm too self-critical whenever I'm sober.



They don't need much of an explanation, except that Chitzik Phitzik is a bird from a Russian folksong, goes something like "Chitzik Phitzik, where are you? I'm on the Fontenac, drinking Vodka." And there's a little statue of this bird along one of the canals in St. Petersburg.

---

Your eyes all weekend long,
It took Sunday night for me to comprehend
And follow into the willowstands,
Where you looked back over your shoulder
Past trees that are no longer there.
(Did you know that, have you been back?)
We had just met, and would never meet again
A lively polka and a long, long kiss,
Then you to New York and me to Siberia.
It was fleeting, almost teenaged.
You will be brilliant, build your own life,
And I want nothing of you, except to say
It was a pristine moment.

------


Chtizik Phitzik on my shoulder
ruffles his feathers,
Buys a round
for the submarine captain
the unemployed doctor
and me.

We drink to the Kursk men
Still alive, their oxygen running out.
The doctor and I, we hope
vodka will pry open this captain's mouth.
Perhaps he knows someone on the Kursk.
Perhaps a friend.
The doctor translates for me
the monosyllabic nyets.

Chitzik Phitzik and the doctor and I,
we take the hydrofoil back to St Petersburg.
I can shake neither of them,
not as long as I'm in this city.

 

[OhMissScarlett]

Happy 500th Post!!! (Well, 501 now.)

I'm glad you enjoyed my musings! It was quite rushed, but sometimes those are the best ones because you don't fiddle with them as much. I also did another drinky-type one some months back on Matrich's thread. Will see if I can find it for you tommorow.

cool.

Oh, Fogbank, those are really good. Maybe you should try and muster the courage to write poetry when you're sober too. It seems you have a knack for it.

 

[cantdog]

I especially like the trees which are no longer there and the parenthetical question following it, the weekend described only with "your eyes."

You have some fine moments, and what's rarer, they are accessible to a reader!
If you were indeed gonzo when you made this, I salute you, for you clearly have a vast excess of brain cells, to sacrifice so many and still have plenty left to write a decent poem.

Make Glub To Me is witty and, especially in the concluding portion, very sly and observant. I would tighten the mirror-and-tears section in the middle, but that's what sobriety is for-- editing!

 

[fogbank]

Thanks for the kind words, MissScarlet and Cantdog!

In the poems I posted, the first one was beer drunkenness, the second one vodka. I'm just thinking that it would be interesting to explore whether different types of alcohol tend to produce different qualities in the poetry. I think that to produce any sort of accurate results, a larger sample size is necessary. Anybody want to join me in doing some research?