So you find nothing,
Today, to do.
So, go get trashed,
And, write a few.
Lines of love,
Or, lines of hate.
Inebriated you are,
You’re shitfaced.
You create some rhyme,
You call poetry.
After pounding a few,
From a Shot Ski.
Then, post the poem,
To yourself you boast.
“What a work of art,
To me, I toast!”
Suddenly the spins,
Get the upper hand.
You lose your balance,
Can no longer stand.
You wake in the morning,
Ringing in your ears.
Go read your post,
It brings you to tears.
Can’t believe your eyes,
You posted that thing!
Promise, next time,
“I’ll just have some tea.”
-
Author:
WriteBeLight (
Offline) - Published: May 16th, 2017 05:24
- Comment from author about the poem: This poem came to mind after listening to a co-worker's weekend escapades. Nothing good, or any respectable texting, ever happens after midnight, after more than a few drinks.
- Category: Humor
- Views: 99
Offline)
Comments6
Ha ha - the picture with words tell the whole fun-story - - - great smile on my face after reading this piece of Plastered Poetry.
Thanks Fay. I do not know why people would brag about their escapades while their Boss is within earshot! Thanks again!
Good fun write.
Thanks Goldfinch!
Oohh heehee. Plastered? I thought you meant decorating?!
This person certainly was not a fly on the wall 🙂 Thanks orchidee!
You're as daft as me - and I love it.
Thanks Michael!
Very good WBL
Very good indeed...
Thanks P.H. 🙂 I stay away from keyboards when relaxing. Safer that way ha ha.
Ha ha
I used to date his sister(guy in the picture) We used to catnip around . Ha ha , I may have been guilty of such frivolity , but only once , twice , thrice but that's as high as I remember once I've been spiced .
Love that swingline! Thanks so much. Great story 🙂
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