Drunken song

You ask me why
and I just say hi

Later at night I bang on the door
but you don’t let me in so I go to score

In the morning you let me inside
but you pour all my drink outside

One day you locked all the doors from the front to the back
and just left me a note saying I should pack

You ask me why I’m writing this poem….I say,
some call it a tavern but I call it home,
fuck you I’m drunk!! Fuck you I’m drunk!!
Even though you pour my beer down the the sink you skunk,
hahahaha, I got more in the trunk.

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9 comments

      1. Yes I pray, all the time. One thing you don’t know about me is I’m a Minister. I don’t have a church or communun, pastoring the elderly left behind to die in a home, they are dying, angry. I work in hospitals and pray with families or kids who are dying, take new panties to the Womens Shelter to give so dignity at breaking point. I buy clothes, backpacks, drink bottles and take to a Homeless Shelter who do give back a life to the homeless. I pray with with people who are having surgery and want to pray. There are so many life changing (my life changing) moments.
        When you remember I’ve been in a bed for two years, could barely get down stairs and totally dependent on my husband. He’s awesome, the point is I’m a doer, take care of myself, learn to change my own tire even if it takes half a day. When you’re dying its still hard to let go and say I can’t.

      2. A Minister? You sound more like the Pope. Anyways I’m glad you found comfort on that, I’m not glad that you are married, you just revealed that to me as I was making the calls to go with you to Hawaii.
        Glad your good with your husband and that you do what you do, is good to talk to a person like you. Makes me rethink things, even though I’m a bit high with the weed and 12 p.m with a lot of heat, but I’m glad for you, I like people like you, hopefully one day I can do some of the things that you do. Hey! You do know my name is C Priest, so I’m almost there

      3. That’s a message from God. What I do and who I am or think I am is no different than the next person who likes to help people. Only a few knew I was dying, they said take a break from writing, take care of yourself first. That’s not something to pat me on the back for. Looking back at the writing still today the spelling errors or wrong words make me kick my ass, I didn’t get it right. I sure didn’t, why the hell are two blogs more important than myself. I love hearing say hey that was a good post or I didn’t know that. It was my only life line, as shitty as the post were people who knew by my writing how close to death I was and send well wishes. When you’ve been in your house for three years I was trying to find that survivor in me to beat this diseases, I fell all the time but would not let him help me, I was saying to myself you have to get strong, keep pushing yourself up & down the stairs. Several concussions and lot of pain later I would and do the same thing. Over the weekend I fell of a three foot ladder twice in five minutes, hit my head with the hammer and hurt my hip. The ladder is still in there and when stronger I’ll get right up there. I would smoke a joint every hour if I could, which I’m working on. I take so many addictive narcotics and weed could do the same possibly. It legal in many states. I need to go to Colorado to see.

      4. Shut up. What a comment….. it was looooooooooooong.
        I do know something about you, you are strong and I love ya through the internet.

        Here goes a question, should I call her or not?

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