we are listening in unison!....coolOriginally Posted by Harry H Howgill
we are listening in unison!....cool
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After 3, press STARTwe are listening in unison!....cool
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Now this man could drink (but not in a good way...)
Do you drink?
washed-up, on shore, the old yellow notebook
out again
I write from the bed
as I did last
year.
will see the doctor,
Monday.
"yes, doctor, weak legs, vertigo, head-
aches and my back
hurts."
"are you drinking?" he will ask.
"are you getting your
exercise, your
vitamins?"
I think that I am just ill
with life, the same stale yet
fluctuating
factors.
even at the track
I watch the horses run by
and it seems
meaningless.
I leave early after buying tickets on the
remaining races.
"taking off?" asks the motel
clerk.
"yes, it's boring,"
I tell him.
"If you think it's boring
out there," he tells me, "you oughta be
back here."
so here I am
propped up against my pillows
again
just an old guy
just an old writer
with a yellow
notebook.
something is
walking across the
floor
toward
me.
oh, it's just
my cat
this
time.
Charles Bukowski
oh sorry i am behind (as per usual...) always back of the pack (poor me....)
Happy xmas all!
What shall we do with a drunken santa?
What shall we do with a drunken santa?
What shall we do with a drunken santa?
Ear-ly in the morning
Knock him down and steal his presents
Knock him down and steal his presents
Knock him down and steal his presents
Ear-ly in the morning
Way, hey, and up she rises
Way, hey, and up she rises
Way, hey, and up she rises
Ear-ly in the morning
What shall we do with a drunken reindeer? [x3]
Ostracize him like poor Rudolph [x3]
What shall we do with a drunken Jesus?…
Turn the wine back into water…
What shall we do with a drunken snow man?
Put him in the sun and let it melt him
Ode To Wine
Day-colored wine,
night-colored wine,
wine with purple feet
or wine with topaz blood,
wine,
starry child
of earth,
wine, smooth
as a golden sword,
soft
as lascivious velvet,
wine, spiral-seashelled
and full of wonder,
amorous,
marine;
never has one goblet contained you,
one song, one man,
you are choral, gregarious,
at the least, you must be shared.
At times
you feed on mortal
memories;
your wave carries us
from tomb to tomb,
stonecutter of icy sepulchers,
and we weep
transitory tears;
your
glorious
spring dress
is different,
blood rises through the shoots,
wind incites the day,
nothing is left
of your immutable soul.
Wine
stirs the spring, happiness
bursts through the earth like a plant,
walls crumble,
and rocky cliffs,
chasms close,
as song is born.
A jug of wine, and thou beside me
in the wilderness,
sang the ancient poet.
Let the wine pitcher
add to the kiss of love its own.
My darling, suddenly
the line of your hip
becomes the brimming curve
of the wine goblet,
your breast is the grape cluster,
your nipples are the grapes,
the gleam of spirits lights your hair,
and your navel is a chaste seal
stamped on the vessel of your belly,
your love an inexhaustible
cascade of wine,
light that illuminates my senses,
the earthly splendor of life.
But you are more than love,
the fiery kiss,
the heat of fire,
more than the wine of life;
you are
the community of man,
translucency,
chorus of discipline,
abundance of flowers.
I like on the table,
when we're speaking,
the light of a bottle
of intelligent wine.
Drink it,
and remember in every
drop of gold,
in every topaz glass,
in every purple ladle,
that autumn labored
to fill the vessel with wine;
and in the ritual of his office,
let the simple man remember
to think of the soil and of his duty,
to propagate the canticle of the wine.
Pablo Neruda
Is this your handiwork HHH?
You are off looking at classy poetry web sites, and I've ended up reading drunken sea shanties. I won't trouble you with any, and I'll change my tack me hearties. Aaaarggh Jimm Laaad
no no noIs this your handiwork HHH?
I'm just a fast googler
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