Tag Archives: Drinking

Who Needs Memory Anyway?

“Clumps of dainty silver bones

Mixed amidst the silent stones

Are bathed not in blood or tears

But in the light of yesteryears.”

I don’t know the meaning of that verse,

If it be blessing or a curse,

But it’s tattooed on my forehead

Which is why I no longer drink before bed.

Leave a comment

Filed under Poems

Passing The Bar?

The taps are flowing,

The music blares!

The mistakes pile up

But nobody cares.

New stories are heard

And new memories leave.

Every girl at the bar

Hears “sup girl? I’m Steve.”


Are out the door.

There’s one good answer

When they ask “one more?”

Bodies shimmy 

And booties shake!

Isn’t it joyful

At rationality’s wake?

Leave a comment

Filed under Poems

The Italian Disagrees With Your Solid/Liquid Dichotomy of Glass Consumption

You a say a that a eating glass

Is a bad a for a you

And that a if you eat a glass

You’ll a have an uncomfortable poo,

Yet a here you go a giving me

A water you hole a da ass

Cause you give a me the water

And it’s a in a drinking glass.

Leave a comment

Filed under Poems

This Poem Rejected by Hallmark

Today’s the day we drink until

We’re knocked over by a breeze.

It’s by far the holiday

With the fewest memories.

Leave a comment

Filed under Poems

‘Twas the Month Before Christmas

The reindeer grew impatient.
They’d not flown for a year,
And so had entertained themselves
With dirty jokes and beer.

The big night was six weeks away.
They wanted to hit the gym,
But they had to have permission from
The one, the only… Him.

So Cupid and Vixen volunteered
To do some good deer/bad deer
And get their training authorized
By mister snowy-white beard.

“Mista Claus?” Cupid asked
In her Boston reindeer drawl.
“Our bellies all got really big
And our muscles super small.”

The big red suit stayed silent
Giving no indication,
So Vixen thought the time was ripe
For some intimidation.

She leapt upon his table
And wished that she had antlers.
She smashed a few of Santa’s toys
And three vodka decanters.

Cupid saw it coming
But a few seconds too late:
Santa’s eyes got angry,
And Vixen was served on a plate.

Seven subdued reindeer
Resumed their aimless days,
Their hopes of strength forsaken
By the mounting Christmas haze.

Four weeks later, the seven awoke
To a burning reddish glare.
A red-nosed reindeer robot
Was flying through the air.

They knew at once they’d been replaced,
And that they’d have to go
To avoid poor Vixen’s fate,
Come the next Ho-Ho-Ho.

So somewhere in Alaska
Seven flabby caribou
Seek someone to fly away with them.
Perhaps it will be you?

Leave a comment

Filed under Poems