Outlook Poems [Old Friends, War and Bars/Part II]
3-17-2007
5) Gulp lint the Beer
(Ole Friends)
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Gulp down the brew ole friends
(long gone, one last)
Roar and caper to the songs
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On the ole jut box-
(in this grimy area bar)
Where there\\'s no sunlight
Only drunks and brewage and wavelet wine
Where we all die back our time!
#1740
Dedicated to the old Donkeyland association of the 60s
6) Death in the Corner Bar
Here they all died
(one by one,
I\\'ve stopped as well as)
In this old cranny bar;
No pride, messed up inside,
Saturated look-alike a sponge
(one by one, they died;
I\\'ve stopped with).
Good for no one-
Died I say, died, died!
In this ole country bar-
They were my friends,
Way rear when...!
#1741
7) Payday Drunk
On payday nights-
We all skedaddled to the bar;
On the way haunt we stumbled
Out of the bar, youthful we were
Dancing about, shouting,
Fighting same fish caught on a hook:
John, Rino, Ace and Me,
Rick, Larry, Roger and Doug,
And Mike, dead-drunken men
Awash (waiting and missing)
Grostequely mean,
With slobbering breath;
Impetuous,
Sweating-;
That was my youth
Back in \\'63,
Alas, they, my friends
Way hindmost when,
Are lifeless at that very bar
I see, in 2007 (a few left-handed).
#1742
8) Drunk in Vietnam (reedited)
(Poem #1743)) 1-17-19-2007
Back in \\'71, I nigh the streets
and went to Vietnam
still stiff and moving about
from what we\\'d appointment the absence of:
sleep, protein, and care-
which I traded in, \\'White Castle Hamburgers,\\'
their wrappings that filled
the backseat of my car-
traded in, final then-
for saliferous pork,
and a 100 kinds of soup,
and a war in Vietnam;
still half potty same a skunk,
likened to backbone on the streets
in my old neighborhood,
the Army took comfort of me
and supplied much booze:
yes, I lately drank more, and more
too slopped to support on my feet,
a touching platoon, we were,
there in Vietnam, like-minded the gang
from my streets,
perhaps, reserved a tinge,
yet drunkenly nondescript:
all agent infested, or alcoholic beverage saturated;
that was us in Vietnam:
the champion of the unsurpassable.
Note: If someone knows almost drunks and bar life, Dennis does, he is recovering, has been for 22-years. He knows how it is in the bar, bar life, how it looks, and smells, and the worry set; disappointingly. And possibly these poems will induce mortal to get out of it. You die before your time, but resembling Dennis e'er says, \\"You got to contribute a stiff something better, otherwise, why would he endow with up, what he thinks is nifty.\\" Rosa
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