fdelano Posted April 22, 2012 Share Posted April 22, 2012 Hell yes. Since unshackling my chains of boyhood slavery. The first shot of bad whiskey almost making me into a teetotaler, but I had buddies who laughed and poured me another. Booze, cigarettes and chasing tail, our mission in life and fun as hell. Barely avoiding punishment in the military, by hangdog sorrow and regrets. Living only for the next meager pay, doled out by an officer after you saluted correctly and stated your SSN, your life’s ID. Good genes from a professional drinker have saved me from liver and kidney disorders, so say my every six-month’s blood chemistry. Now I must maintain the balance between good wine and pain killers. Being old does carry experience in survival, thank you Jack Daniel. A wee sip does loosen a tight-ass to the point of typing stupid thoughts late at night, something to regret in the pain of rays of sunlight. Salute! Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Larsen M. Callirhoe Posted April 22, 2012 Share Posted April 22, 2012 i would join you for a glass of fine wine a swig of jack and a shot of gin and tonic. the life yes... i hate damn nursing homes. the dead can bury the dead literally LOL... awesome write as always. victor Quote Larsen M. Callirhoe Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
tonyv Posted April 25, 2012 Share Posted April 25, 2012 As American as bourbon. We'll leave salud to the French. We Salute! Tony Quote Here is a link to an index of my works on this site: tonyv's Member Archive topic Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
dr_con Posted April 25, 2012 Share Posted April 25, 2012 Fine, fine celebration- Poet's and writers tend to be drinkers so much so we take it as a 'fact' ;-) And I enjoy the honest look @ the less than flattering side as well;-) Many thanks- Juris Quote thegateless.org Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Benjamin Posted April 26, 2012 Share Posted April 26, 2012 Great subject material. Peer pressure,the social and personal aspects of drinking-- and a philosophy shaped by experience. I was weaned on traditional drinking songs with choruses that ranged from the rollicking highs of “Old Rosin the Beau” to the sombre lows of “Ye Mariners All” and those sardonic last lines, “When I am in my grave and dead/ And all my sorrows are past and fled/ Transform me then into a fish/ and let me swim-- in a jug o' this.” Although I still feel I have some way to go yet. G. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
badger11 Posted April 26, 2012 Share Posted April 26, 2012 A wee sip does loosen a tight-ass to the point of typing stupid thoughts late at night, something to regret in the pain of rays of sunlight. I think that could be a poem in itself, though I did enjoy the irony of 'the buddies'. badge Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
fdelano Posted April 26, 2012 Author Share Posted April 26, 2012 My thanks to all who found something in this bit. It actually was written in one of my middle of the night sessions. Not a life I would wish on any other, but the irony at my age had to come out. Benjamin, I recall a song by Willie Nelson that claims "If the ocean were whiskey, and I was a duck, I'd swim to the bottom and never come up." Find a large jar, my friend. lol Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Frank E Gibbard Posted April 30, 2012 Share Posted April 30, 2012 Easy one to empathise with we drinkers, and the late nights. Spot on, Frank., Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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