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Tag Archives: drinking poems
say hey bard-tender, won’t you please pour me a straight up shot (in the arm) (in the dark) of some rum-bled phrase? fuse me (shaken, stirred) a word or two to spill, some cocktail napkin poems to fill the time. lose me to the page, the space -bar rage of fingers flying and syllables sighing in … Continue reading
.. against this midnight-silent sky, he is all rum -bled song (how many bottles of beer on the wall? We’ve lost count.) He’s cashed in and crashed on our couches and trashed his last joint and pointed at that tattle-tale … Continue reading
… This poem is a rum -bled mess, a stress of syllables and too much (be)gin. Absinthe makes its heart grow fonder. See? It wanders, over yonder. This poem is on a bend -er. Did you find it in a … Continue reading
.. turn it up, twister sister: they say absinthe maketh the heart grow fonder. brandy? dandy. whose cider you on? gin. rum. me? our best kept rush-and -secret: vodka. with a simple mix her, elixir. vapor. rise. the sun’ll come … Continue reading
… we’ve got it made in the shade with a splash of cherry coke swindle-swizzle-sticked ah- maze -ment. bring ice, suffice it to say we’ll toss in a little rum -bled phrase, and praise the day we raised our glasses … Continue reading