Option #1
Shit, Shit, Shitola
PARST ONE
[stanza break]
(too soon, but piss on it)
Drunk and disorderly I know –
Argumentative, ballistic, a real peach I become
Smarter, righter, and truth be told, much-much
Insistently louder.
Drunk and horny I know –
Amorous, friend-friendly [boing], a real warmster
Obsessive, seriously pointed, and truth be told
A heat-seeking missile.
Drunk and confused I know –
Fuzz-brained, stumbling, a passable cliché
Dumber, blinder, and truth be told
A total tool.
But drunk and poetic?
There’s no such thing. Pass me the bong.
I’m giving up the poetic-words hunt
I’m fukcing drunk and still at the loss.
[insert rhyme with bunt/toss or thong]
SECTION B
Thank you morning wine, thank you
Whiskey in my coffee. Thank you too [whoo-hooo!]
Gin to pad my afternoon, and thank you
Drambuie for your kind company this night whilst
I wait for my allegory to be delivered
By the buxomish creature I imagine as
my personal musey-muse. What a babe.
Where was I?
FINALE
Pisses me off, hey.
I got drunk to write this
The rules reuqire and you know me - a rules guy.
So I wait for the allegory, the metaphors central and subsidiary
Some assonance and consonance [mostly assonance] and what the clammer–
I'll settle for a floatable simile, or some reasonable metre,
or a favoured, honoured, flavoured, sonoured
bit of fuckwhatever. That's it!
I'm waiting for fuckwhatever.
Whatever that may be.
& where's my muse and that
fabulous bosom? or bosoms?
singular, pular? My gawd
I'm drunk.
___________________________________________________________
Option # 2
The next morning
Her scent lingers on the sheets
ok, they're blankets,
anywho, happy days,
she improved the aroma.
At least I think, hope
it was a she.
Things blur a lot nowadays,
maybe I'm gender fluid...
I think that's what they call it
when
you drink too much,
can't remember and
find liquid signatures
in your bed
or
your
unusual places!!