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Drunk With A Pen
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The Change

T

The Change

They used to go ice skating. Indoors under summer sun; Outdoors under silent snow: She used to lead him by the hand - But that was long ago. They used to laugh for hours. He would make up stories And she would play along: But when it came to their story The ending worked out wrong. They used to drink together, One or two under the moon. But with the baby’s arrival Something snapped, And turned his drinking suicidal. They used to dine together Candlelight and wine, Rib-eye and t-bone. But he drowned out his appetite And left her to eat alone. They used to travel the world But he began catch at the bars. So she would take their daugh

Sin and Tonic

Sake Bastard

S

Sake Bastard

Haikus come easy When drinking sweet, sweet sake All bloody afternoon.

The Self-Deluded Poet

T

The Self-Deluded Poet

I told myself I wouldn't write you a love poem: That I wouldn't concede to that cliche, And make a fool of myself By making ardent promises you didn't want to hear; That I wouldn't waste my heart On a dream I didn't even ask for, Nor build another idol in the sand. I told myself I would walk away contented: That you were better off with another; That I needn't surrender my heart; Nor spend every minute wondering What you are doing, who you are with, Whether you're thinking about me at all, Whether you have the happiness you deserve. I told myself that you weren't my heart's desire: That your smile didn't really shine As brightly as a full m

Drinking Games

D

Drinking Games

When beer goes down too easy I find other rituals to amuse me. I partook of afternoon tea But that dram of assam was measly, And I only take my coffee Irishly; So I instead I settled on the brandy. I tried to play the twelve bar blues By putting on my walking shoes. But the third bar brought bad news As it was happy hour for booze. So as evitable inebriation ensues, I drink with only time to lose. I joined myself a gambling ring To try a hand at poker while drinking But whiskey slows your thinking And I walked away on a shoe string. Gin rummy was very disappointing Without a drop in the offering. The only game I can really play Is to drink

War Stories

W

War Stories

The streets are wide with swagger; Raucous laughter is the fanfare Of the soldiers of hedonism. This perfumed infantry patrols the bars, Watched by bouncers in doorways, Former servicemen with guarded salutes. Johnny’s dropping j-bombs; Richie’s sinking the navy rum; Stevo isn’t missing a shot. The boys are out for blood tonight: But real heroes befriend before fight. Waging war with their wages, Counting casualties in empty bottles, Earning war stories under neon skies. Blue collars and white collars But not a dog-tag to be seen For the bawdy heroes of Friday night. Bobby ditched his bird at The Tap; Gav glassed a geez

Rocket

R

Rocket

These four wall blues Are suffocating My Earthly ambitions And I am trapped Beneath the weight Of heavy heart. I seek escape velocity: A way out of this Gravity unwell. I want to travel Beyond the mundane And into the sublime. I want to dance Amongst indifferent stars Carefree and careless. So I pop another cork And let this wine Be my rocket ship.

Drunk With A Pen: Cover Art

Unreliable Poet

U

Unreliable Poet

I confess I don't remember    Whether you wore your hair down    Or tied it back into a sort-of pony tail;    Whether your dress was red with black spots    Or black with red spots,    Or something else entirely. But I perfectly recall your smile,    Like Spring’s first sunshine    Whose warmth lingers even now. I may have already forgotten,    The cadence with which you spoke    Your intonation and inflection;    The questions you asked me    And the answers I found    Down amongst the butterflies. But I know that your voice    Was an unchained symphony    Was angelsong    A spell of sweet restlessness. I cannot fo

The Untested Arrogance of Marlon Rando

T

The Untested Arrogance of Marlon Rando

Today I happened upon another dreamer, One more misunderstood genius Who just needs his one chance to make it. Won't you give him that one chance, sir? The dreamer promises everything:     Eponymous beauty from artist with no name; Manifesto unshackled by establishment; Shining vision untempered by frame. The untested arrogance of Marlon Rando Declares itself in barely-literate prose Or elaborate, hollow pomposity And demands the world be still a moment: And listen, Just listen, Please listen, Please. Pity the dreamer who is unable to awaken; The cherub floating upon the wrong cloud: For sometimes destiny takes a wrong turn, Sometimes d
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The Change

T

The Change

They used to go ice skating. Indoors under summer sun; Outdoors under silent snow: She used to lead him by the hand - But that was long ago. They used to laugh for hours. He would make up stories And she would play along: But when it came to their story The ending worked out wrong. They used to drink together, One or two under the moon. But with the baby’s arrival Something snapped, And turned his drinking suicidal. They used to dine together Candlelight and wine, Rib-eye and t-bone. But he drowned out his appetite And left her to eat alone. They used to travel the world But he began catch at the bars. So she would take their daugh

Sin and Tonic

Sake Bastard

S

Sake Bastard

Haikus come easy When drinking sweet, sweet sake All bloody afternoon.

The Self-Deluded Poet

T

The Self-Deluded Poet

I told myself I wouldn't write you a love poem: That I wouldn't concede to that cliche, And make a fool of myself By making ardent promises you didn't want to hear; That I wouldn't waste my heart On a dream I didn't even ask for, Nor build another idol in the sand. I told myself I would walk away contented: That you were better off with another; That I needn't surrender my heart; Nor spend every minute wondering What you are doing, who you are with, Whether you're thinking about me at all, Whether you have the happiness you deserve. I told myself that you weren't my heart's desire: That your smile didn't really shine As brightly as a full m

Drinking Games

D

Drinking Games

When beer goes down too easy I find other rituals to amuse me. I partook of afternoon tea But that dram of assam was measly, And I only take my coffee Irishly; So I instead I settled on the brandy. I tried to play the twelve bar blues By putting on my walking shoes. But the third bar brought bad news As it was happy hour for booze. So as evitable inebriation ensues, I drink with only time to lose. I joined myself a gambling ring To try a hand at poker while drinking But whiskey slows your thinking And I walked away on a shoe string. Gin rummy was very disappointing Without a drop in the offering. The only game I can really play Is to drink

War Stories

W

War Stories

The streets are wide with swagger; Raucous laughter is the fanfare Of the soldiers of hedonism. This perfumed infantry patrols the bars, Watched by bouncers in doorways, Former servicemen with guarded salutes. Johnny’s dropping j-bombs; Richie’s sinking the navy rum; Stevo isn’t missing a shot. The boys are out for blood tonight: But real heroes befriend before fight. Waging war with their wages, Counting casualties in empty bottles, Earning war stories under neon skies. Blue collars and white collars But not a dog-tag to be seen For the bawdy heroes of Friday night. Bobby ditched his bird at The Tap; Gav glassed a geez

Rocket

R

Rocket

These four wall blues Are suffocating My Earthly ambitions And I am trapped Beneath the weight Of heavy heart. I seek escape velocity: A way out of this Gravity unwell. I want to travel Beyond the mundane And into the sublime. I want to dance Amongst indifferent stars Carefree and careless. So I pop another cork And let this wine Be my rocket ship.

Drunk With A Pen: Cover Art

Unreliable Poet

U

Unreliable Poet

I confess I don't remember    Whether you wore your hair down    Or tied it back into a sort-of pony tail;    Whether your dress was red with black spots    Or black with red spots,    Or something else entirely. But I perfectly recall your smile,    Like Spring’s first sunshine    Whose warmth lingers even now. I may have already forgotten,    The cadence with which you spoke    Your intonation and inflection;    The questions you asked me    And the answers I found    Down amongst the butterflies. But I know that your voice    Was an unchained symphony    Was angelsong    A spell of sweet restlessness. I cannot fo

The Untested Arrogance of Marlon Rando

T

The Untested Arrogance of Marlon Rando

Today I happened upon another dreamer, One more misunderstood genius Who just needs his one chance to make it. Won't you give him that one chance, sir? The dreamer promises everything:     Eponymous beauty from artist with no name; Manifesto unshackled by establishment; Shining vision untempered by frame. The untested arrogance of Marlon Rando Declares itself in barely-literate prose Or elaborate, hollow pomposity And demands the world be still a moment: And listen, Just listen, Please listen, Please. Pity the dreamer who is unable to awaken; The cherub floating upon the wrong cloud: For sometimes destiny takes a wrong turn, Sometimes d

Spotlight

Sin and Tonic

27Comments

Spotlight

Gnome Noir

G

Gnome Noir

  "I did it for the money and I did it for the girl.         Well, I didn't get the money – and I didn't get the girl." ::  Walter Neff - Double Indemnity So I point the flintlock at the guy – and that's no easy thing, big musket like that on a little gnome like me – and I peer down the sight. Not many people know what it's like to stare at a man through a glass. But in those sacred moments, the whole world takes a breath and it's just you and him. I line up the shot, and I think about the girl, and-- What? That is the start. What do you want, Sheriff, my life story? Alright, well, I'm Gniles Brody the Third – that's
132Comments
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:new: Drunk With A Pen: 13.5 poems about drink and drinking :new:

A printed, illustrated poetry collection, proceeds of which go to charity.

Drunk With A Pen: Cover Art by monstroooo The ChangeThey used to go ice skating.
Indoors under summer sun;
Outdoors under silent snow:
She used to lead him by the hand -
But that was long ago.
They used to laugh for hours.
He would make up stories
And she would play along:
But when it came to their story
The ending worked out wrong.
They used to drink together,
One or two under the moon.
But with the baby’s arrival
Something snapped,
And turned his drinking suicidal.
They used to dine together
Candlelight and wine,
Rib-eye and t-bone.
But he drowned out his appetite
And left her to eat alone.
They used to travel the world
But he began catch at the bars.
So she would take their daughter
To build sandcastles,
And return to find him a little smaller.
She could feel him slipping away,
As the whiskey started to win
And the drink started to tell.
Change came sure as the tide
And it left him but a shell.
They used to talk about the change
And he ramble speak incoherent
About the pressures of a man.
And she would do her best to listen,
Bu
Drinking Games
When beer goes down too easy
I find other rituals to amuse me.
I partook of afternoon tea
But that dram of assam was measly,
And I only take my coffee Irishly;
So I instead I settled on the brandy.
I tried to play the twelve bar blues
By putting on my walking shoes.
But the third bar brought bad news
As it was happy hour for booze.
So as evitable inebriation ensues,
I drink with only time to lose.
I joined myself a gambling ring
To try a hand at poker while drinking
But whiskey slows your thinking
And I walked away on a shoe string.
Gin rummy was very disappointing
Without a drop in the offering.
The only game I can really play
Is to drink my every care away:
I can go all night and go all day,
From Sunday through to Saturday.
I don’t care what Dean Martin say:
This is what I call amore.
War Stories
The streets are wide with swagger;
Raucous laughter is the fanfare
Of the soldiers of hedonism.
This perfumed infantry patrols the bars,
Watched by bouncers in doorways,
Former servicemen with guarded salutes.
Johnny’s dropping j-bombs;
Richie’s sinking the navy rum;
Stevo isn’t missing a shot.
The boys are out for blood tonight:
But real heroes befriend before fight.
Waging war with their wages,
Counting casualties in empty bottles,
Earning war stories under neon skies.
Blue collars and white collars
But not a dog-tag to be seen
For the bawdy heroes of Friday night.
Bobby ditched his bird at The Tap;
Gav glassed a geezer at the Geese;
Davey used a sink as a dunny.
The lads want trouble and won’t be denied
But real heroes aren’t born of pride.


Selected highlights from the gallery:

.: Gnome Noir :. +DD +DLD
Gniles Brody III, agent of the Royal Gnomic Treasury, gives his personal account of how his perfect crime went horribly wrong.

.: Stationery :.
A short story in four acts, featuring the fetishisation (ish) of stationery and the moral decline of the corporation (to an extent).

.: The Gunslinger :. +DD +DLD
'Some folk, they say he's looking to get revenge on those who did for his lady. Others say he's just out for revenge on those who done him in. Still other folk swear he's an agent of the devil hisself. Step inside, stranger, and I'll tell you all about The Gunslinger.'


Thanks to the following artists for giving permission to use their sketches:

:iconmechanicalgraphite: :iconchildofdune: :iconoffo:

Comments 653

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Rebeckington General Artist
I told you that Sin & Tonic was good ;) (Wink) Congratulations on the DD yesterday! I am a dummy!  Airborne Ahooooy Matey! Party Boogie! Clap 
monstrooooProfessional Writer
Thank yooou! Was that anything to do with you?
Rebeckington General Artist
Ahh, how I wish that it were! You're just super talented :) (Smile) 
Thank you for the fav🌸
PursuingTheCerberusProfessional Writer
Joe...it has been a long, long time.  Just wanted to see how things were going! Are you on Facebook at all? I want to keep in better touch with some people from this community!
monstrooooProfessional Writer
William! Yes I am. I fact something strange has happened this past year - I've started connecting with old writing friends here on different social medias. Mediums? Whatever. It is a trend which seems to be happening for one reason or another. Perhaps we've all grown out of the anonymous personas we once enjoyed here. Incoming note!
PursuingTheCerberusProfessional Writer
Messaged you on facebook...the option to send a friend request wasn't there.  Nice to hear from you, brother!