Drunken Life
Drunken Life
I wake up on a Sunday Morning
To the sound of cars horning
Smelling of booze
And a particular ooze
No wash, no breakfast, no amount of food
Can put me in my desired frame of mood
All dressed
From yesterdays mess
I am ready to visit my favourite spot
This is where I once fought
A pub with loads of alcohol
Where I can stand up all mighty and tall
Six pints of lager
And I stagger
But hold on it is not yet over
For I am in Dover in my Rover
Prepared for a sleepover from any type of hangover
I am now boarding a ferry
As I am high and merry
To Calais a land of gold
For the old and bold so I am told
I am hoping to smuggle without a fine
6 cartons of cigarettes and 6 cartons of wine
This is the life of a sadistic drunk
It’s quite a contrast from that of a monk
6 shots of spirits
And I am ready to vomit
So I sit while I take out my kit
A special small emergency bucket
So I can pour out my juices like a rocket
People in the city
Look at me and feel pity
As I beg for change
What a shame at my age
I still want more
For this body is hardcore
This is the life of a sadistic drunk
It’s quite a contrast from that of a monk
With a bottle of beer in one hand
I wave it around like a magic wand
My head is spinning
I am no longer winning
I slumber to the street
My body has given up in defeat
This is the life of a sadistic drunk
It’s quite a contrast from that of a monk
I find myself waking up in a cell
Just as I dreamt that I fell
It is cold and freezing as hell
From my face you can easily tell
A policeman says to me
By the way I forgot to mention
Six more cautions
And you will spend the entire winter season
In one of the worst prisons
Please I say, I will not do it again
I may be stupid but I am definitely not insane
I am immediately released
As if infectiously diseased
Outside I think of some gin and tonic
And start to begin to feel quite erotic
Stop I say for today
I need to take a break
For my life is at stake
This is the life of a sadistic drunk
It’s quite a contrast from that of a monk
© Sylvia Chidi- 17 October 2005
poem by Sylvia Chidi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Drunks Denial
the drunk will continue on the path of denial
and accepting the truth is not their style.
they can sit at a table and drink a fifth of gin
and for them, it is no sin.
or they can go out to a bar with people all around
get blitzed and fall to the ground.
they will stutter and stammer
and say they are fine
and that all they had was a little wine.
they'll slide behind the wheel
although 'their face they don't feel'.
they'll start the car and then glance around
to make sure there are no cops to be found.
they'll shift the car into gear
of getting caught they have no fear.
at times they will start off at a slow pace
then they will proceed to race.
some will say they need the exhilaration of speed
to maintain the high they need.
some will say they need to get a 'head'.
just so they could go to bed.
no matter what excuse the drunk may think or say
with someone else's life you do not play.
the life you took when you could not see
was someone called 'me'.
you took my life while i was in my prime
'i was gone before my time'.
and that dear drunk is a crime.
poem by Louis Rams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I try to contrast; life today is full of contrast... We have to change.
quote by Gianni Versace
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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No Need For That Anymore
Sadistic?
I am not.
But I will admit,
Being pushed to the limit...
By those who test,
The loyalty of others.
And I can be cruel,
When mistaken to be a traitor!
I do not even grin broadly,
When there is someone I know...
Or,
Had known...
That use to brag,
About their worldly possessions.
Only to discover...
The world to be in a repossessive mood.
But there does seem to be,
Less people today...
Loudly expressing their assessments.
And fewer still,
Eagerly willing to flaunt themselves...
To address the 'have nots',
With their snob skills!
And those tours buses...
The ones that use to maneuver through,
Inner city neighbors...
On the weekends?
Appear to have vanished for good.
Sadistic?
I have never been sadistic.
Realistic and telling it like it is?
From observation?
Had been done with a pride.
Today...
There seems to be no need for that anymore.
I've learned to be proud,
And not find it a necessity to be shown.
I know it.
And don't have to show it.
Nor clap my hands!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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You Only Tell Me You Love Me When Youre Drunk
What a performance tonight
Should I react or turn off the light
Looks like youre picking a fight
In a blurring of wrong and right
But how your mood chances
Youre a devil, now an angel
Suddenly subtle and solemn
And silent as a monk
You only tell me you love me
When youre drunk
Its better than nothing I suppose
Some doors have openend
Others closed
But I couldnt see you exposes
To the horrors behind some of those
Somebody said listen dont you know
What youre missing
You should be kissing him instead of
Dissing him like a punk
But you only tell me you love me
When youre drunk
You only tell me you love me
When youre drunk
All of my friends
Keep asking me why, oh why
Do you not say goodbye
If you dont even try youll be sunk
cause you only tell me you love me
When youre drunk
Whats the meaning
When you speak with so much feeling
Is it over when youre sober
Is it junk
You only tell me you love me
When youre drunk
You only tell me you love me
When youre drunk
song performed by by Pet Shop Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Spiritual Glow
It’s life’s fault that I’m lying here in such a mess
sodden with vomit, wine, beer, and meth’s.
“Hey, I’m sorry, but I can’t remember insulting your wife;
there’s no need to hit a man who’s down in his life.
Stop! Please don’t thump and kick me any more,
my head and face is bleeding, and my ribs are sore.
You’ve broken my nose and my eyes are swollen shut,
and I vomit every time you kick my gut.
I know being drunk is no excuse for being rude
but it’s the booze to blame for my bad attitude.
I agree, that I’m a useless loser and waste of time,
and I spend all my money on beer, meth’s, and wine.
Listen mister, I don’t expect any sympathy from anyone
just because my days are all but done.
The tablets are no use and the only painkiller that I know
is from the mixture I call the ‘Spiritual Glow’.
So if you you’re going to hit and kick me again,
kick me hard around my head and brain.
Then at least you’ll do me a favour by setting me free
and you’ll go to prison for the death of me.”
poem by Orlando Belo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Great Gambler
The Gambler stopped a monk
dwelling on spiritual plane,
And exclaimed, "Oh! monk
we both are exactly same
So I think we both of us
deserve equal name and fame.
Monk replied, "Gambler! I put
self not a pelf at stake,
And drink bitter poison
for God's sake
Only fool would say our
lives are same
For you a game is life
for me a life is game.''
Dr Hitesh C Sheth
27/12/2009
poem by Hitesh Sheth
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Jacksons, Monk & Rowe
Sister 4 and brothers 3
Hanging off the family tree
Practising for getting old
Do you want your fortune told
Theyre looking for you high and low
Now theres nowhere for you to go
So youll just have to come out and face the music
Jacksons, monk and rowe
Long ago when we were kids and we cut your hair to bits
As we carried off like spoils the heads wed smash right off
Your dolls
But the wind is changing you know
Are you sure of your friends and your foe
Have you got what it takes to carry it off
Jacksons, monk and rowe
As the sun beats down and life begins to complicate
Will we both incinerate
If we touch that brass name-plate
Messrs. all, noble sirs
Highly paid solicitors
Find enclosed my signed divorce
Sad proceedings you endorse
The burden of pity will show
In the people we used to know
Have you got enough strength to carry it off
Jacksons, monk and rowe
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Jacksons, Monk And Rowe
Sister 4 and brothers 3
Hanging off the family tree
Practising for getting old
Do you want your fortune told
Theyre looking for you high and low
Now theres nowhere for you to go
So youll just have to come out and face the music
Jacksons, monk and rowe
Long ago when we were kids and we cut your hair to bits
As we carried off like spoils the heads wed smash right off
Your dolls
But the wind is changing you know
Are you sure of your friends and your foe
Have you got what it takes to carry it off
Jacksons, monk and rowe
As the sun beats down and life begins to complicate
Will we both incinerate
If we touch that brass name-plate
Messrs. all, noble sirs
Highly paid solicitors
Find enclosed my signed divorce
Sad proceedings you endorse
The burden of pity will show
In the people we used to know
Have you got enough strength to carry it off
Jacksons, monk and rowe
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fragments - Lines 0467 - 0496
Of those now here with us, do not detain anyone who is unwilling to remain,
Nor show the door to anyone who does not wish to go,
Nor wake anyone who is sleeping, Simonides, should one of us,
Well fortified by wine, be gripped by gentle slumber;
Nor bid the wakeful man to sleep against his will;
For everything that is forced is by nature painful.
For the one who wants to drink, let the boy stand close and pour;
Not on all nights is it possible to enjoy delights like these.
But as for me, since I have reached my limit of honey-sweet wine,
I shall think of sleep that loosens cares, going home.
I have reached the point when a man feels most pleasure in drinking wine,
Being neither sober at all nor yet excessively drunk.
Whoever goes beyond the limit of drinking, that man no longer
Is master of his own tongue or of his mind;
He talks recklessly, saying things which the sober find disgraceful,
And feels no shame in any action when he is drunk,
A man of sound sense before, and now a fool. But you,
Understanding these things, should not drink to excess,
But either stand up and leave before you get drunk -- don't let your belly
Overpower you as if you were a base laborer hired by the day --
Or else stay put and refrain from drinking. But no, 'Pour me another'
Is what you keep idly chattering, and that's why you get drunk.
For one cup comes around in the name of friendship, another on a bet;
Another you pour out as a libation for the gods, another you keep on hand,
And you do not know how to refuse. That man is truly invincible,
Who though he has drunk many cups says nothing foolish.
As for the rest of you, take care in what you say as you linger around the wine bowl,
Steering well clear of quarrels with one another,
Speaking in a way that any may hear, whether you address one or all together.
Conducted in this way, a drinking-party proves far from unpleasant.
Dont Drive Drunk
He and his wife have had problems
That hes played off like nothings wrong
til he comes home from work early
Just to find the girl is gone
Oh but he gets into the cupboard
Picks out that bottle of gin
Drinks like theres no tomorrow
And decides to take a spin
No dont drive drunk
Dont drive drunk, no
Dont drive drunk
Mothers against drunk drivers are mad
Teenager at a live party
Says, give me one for the road
But hes already so inebriated
If you lit a smoke hed explode
But bartender says, I dont think so
Young one says, I can deal
Staggering out he says, check you all later
But I really dont think he will
No dont drive drunk
Dont drive drunk, no
Dont drive drunk
Mothers against drunk drivers are mad
(repeat)
(background)
Dont drive drunk
D-d-d dont drive drunk
Dont drive drunk
Hicup
(repeat)
Boy out with girl on their first date
Gets pulled over by the law
Officer says, hey cant you drive straight
Or have you been drinking alcohol?
Boy says, man are you crazy?
Cop says, hey then walk this line
But results from the breathalizer
Proves hes charged with d.u.i.
No dont drive drunk
Dont drive drunk, no
Dont drive drunk
Mothers against drunk drivers are mad
(repeat)
(background)
Dont drive drunk
D-d-d dont drive drunk
Dont drive drunk
Hicup
(repeat)
song performed by by Stevie Wonder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Don't Need A Drink
I don't need a drink
I'm drunk with
Nature's light and sound
Drunk with the gift of
Each day of life
Drunk with the thought that
I'm here to stay
For another day!
poem by Pradip Chattopadhyay
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Drunken Messiah
When Jesus had a hangover
They cancelled Mass that morning;
He'd been out with Magdelan on the booze
Ignoring His Mother's warning.
He said 'I'll do just as I choose
And turn the water into wine
And if you say you don't like it
You'll share the fate of the Gaderene swine! '
But Joseph was a bit annoyed
That Jesus gave His Mother grief -
He said 'You're getting above Yourself,
What's all this fuss about Belief? '
It was then that the Good Lord replied
'I'm sorry I got drunk,
I know I should be crucified
But I'd rather become a Trappist monk! '
Of course, our Saviour didn't know
That crucifixion was His fate,
He didn't know He was our God
Or perhaps He realized too late!
poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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Johnny Come Home
Nobody knows the trouble you feel
Nobody cares, the feelin' is real
Johnny, we're sorry, won't you come on home
We worry, won't you come on
What is wrong in my life
That I must get drunk every night
Johnny, we're sorry won't you come on...
Use the phone, call your mom
She's missing you badly, missing her son
Who do you know, where will you stay
Big city life is not what they say
Johnny, we're sorry, won't you come on home
We worry, won't you come on
What is wrong in my life
That I must get drunk every night
Johnny, we're sorry won't you come on...
You'd better go, everything's closed
Can't find a room, money's all blown
Nowhere to sleep, out in the cold
Nothing to eat, nowhere to go
Johnny, we're sorry, won't you come on home
We worry, won't you come on
What is wrong in my life
That I must get drunk every night
Johnny, we're sorry won't you come on. home
We worry, won't you come on home...
song performed by by Fine Young Cannibals
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Be Drunk
You have to be always drunk. That's all there is to it--it's the
only way. So as not to feel the horrible burden of time that breaks
your back and bends you to the earth, you have to be continually
drunk.
But on what?Wine, poetry or virtue, as you wish. But be
drunk.
And if sometimes, on the steps of a palace or the green grass of
a ditch, in the mournful solitude of your room, you wake again,
drunkenness already diminishing or gone, ask the wind, the wave,
the star, the bird, the clock, everything that is flying, everything
that is groaning, everything that is rolling, everything that is
singing, everything that is speaking. . .ask what time it is and
wind, wave, star, bird, clock will answer you:"It is time to be
drunk! So as not to be the martyred slaves of time, be drunk, be
continually drunk! On wine, on poetry or on virtue as you wish."
poem by Charles Baudelaire
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Piece By Piece
Modulistic terror
A vast sadistic feast
The only way to exit
Is going piece by piece
You have no choice of life or death
My face you will not see
I'll rip your flesh 'till there's no breath
Dismembered destiny
As soon as life has left your corpse
I'll make you part of me
No emotion
Death is all I see
Modulistic terror
A vast sadistic feast
The only way to exit
Is going piece by piece
Bones and blood lie on the ground
Rotten limbs lie dead
Decapitated bodies found
On my wall
song performed by by Slayer from Reign In Blood
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Best Of All Possible Worlds
I was runnin' through the summer rain tryin' to catch the evenin' train
And kill that old familiar pain weevin' through my tangled brain
When I tipped my bottle back I smacked into a cop I didn't see
That policeman said Mr Cool if you're ain't drunk then you're a fool
I said if that's against the law tell me why I never saw
A man locked in that jail of yours who wadn't just as lowdown poor as me
Well that was when someone turned out the lights
And I wound up in jail to spend the night
And dream of all the wine and lonely girls in this best of all possible worlds
Well I woke up next morning feelin' like my head was gone
And like my thick old tongue was lickin' somethin' sick and wrong
And I told that man I'd sell my soul if somethin' wet and cold is that old cell
That kindly jailer grinned at me all eaten up with sympathy
Then bought himself another beer and came and whispered in my ear
That booze was just a dime a bottle boy you couldn't even buy the smell
I said I knew there was somethin' I liked about this town
But it takes more than that to bring me down down down
Cause there's still a lot of wine and lonely girls in this best of all possible worlds
Well they finally came and told me they was a gonna set me free
And I'd be leavin' town if I knew what was good for me
I said it's nice to learn that everybody's so concerned about my health
I said I won't be leavin' no more quicker than I can
Cause I've enjoyed about this much of this as I can stand
And I don't need this town of yours more than I've never needed nothing else
Cause there's still a lotta drinks that I ain't drunk
Lots of pretty thoughts that I ain't thought oh yeah
Lord there's still so many lonely girls in this best of all possible worlds
song performed by by Kris Kristofferson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Contrast
R- ray a- anita
A: theres no limitation to what this beat can do
You better get the feeling before the night is through
R: contrast
Contrast
Contrast
Contrast
A: theres no limitation to waht this beat can do
You better get the feeling before the night is through
R: break the beat while Im coming up strong
A: theres no limitation to what this beat can do
You better get the feeling before the night is through
R: contrast
Contrast
Contrast
Contrast
R: break the beat while Im coming up strong
R: contrast
Contrast
A: theres no limitation to what this beat can do
You better get the feeling before the night is through
R: contrast
Contrast
Contrast
Contrast
R: break the beat while Im coming up strong
song performed by by 2 Unlimited
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Get Drunk
Always be drunk.
That's it!
The great imperative!
In order not to feel
Time's horrid fardel
bruise your shoulders,
grinding you into the earth,
Get drunk and stay that way.
On what?
On wine, poetry, virtue, whatever.
But get drunk.
And if you sometimes happen to wake up
on the porches of a palace,
in the green grass of a ditch,
in the dismal loneliness of your own room,
your drunkenness gone or disappearing,
ask the wind,
the wave,
the star,
the bird,
the clock,
ask everything that flees,
everything that groans
or rolls
or sings,
everything that speaks,
ask what time it is;
and the wind,
the wave,
the star,
the bird,
the clock
will answer you:
"Time to get drunk!
Don't be martyred slaves of Time,
Get drunk!
Stay drunk!
On wine, virtue, poetry, whatever!"
poem by Charles Baudelaire
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Today I'll Look for Beauty
This Sunday morning
from my usual booth at McD's
I thought to look for something new
For which my eyes to please
I decided this day to look for beauty
In actions, form and graces
And as I gazed, I was amazed
At what I perceived in those faces
The little dark eyed Mexican girls
Of an age no more than three
With umber eyes and ebony curls
Stared wide-eyed back at me
I smiled at such a charming sight
They smiled right back at me
Their mother turned, in a bit of a fright
To see what their children could see
Then her quizzical look lost it's tension
At seeing naught but an old smiling man
The little girls, sharing nothing of mom's apprehension
Happily wiggled hello with all the fingers on both hands
In sharp contrast, at a small table, all alone
Sat a thin regal old lady (probably my age, truth be known)
She possessed that quality of being hewn from stone
That hieroglyphic quality of ancient queens on their throne
A thin nose, somewhat hooked with age
Flinty eyes, of a much faded blue
A woman who could have commanded a stage
T'was it not for a family and too much to do
But even given, the wrinkles and lines
That starburst out from her mouth and her eyes
Methinks they speak of beauty (tho crinkly in kind)
And make her e'en more pretty (at least to ol' guys)
What a contrast in beauty, before me today
The loveliness of the aged, so obvious to see
And the beauty of the children that will graciously change
Into the beauty of women of a certain age
My butt's getting tired, coffee's all drunk
Enough with my thinking, I must be up and without
Perhaps by this noon I'll be drunk as a skunk
And then I'll have something else to go on about
poem by David Whalen
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Pre-Departure Drinks
preparing getting ready to go out
the young lady gleefully exclaimed
'time to get ready to go out
i have only had one drink
and i feel drunk already'
'only had 1 drink and i feel drunk'
that happens when you drink
a whole large bottle of gin
poem by Terence George Craddock
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