Monday, February 2, 2009

The Drunken Bard

Are you so far that I cannot touch you

Or is that I just want to

Is it the desire that robs me of the power of my brain?

Or is it the paranoia or the unbearable pain?

Baby oh baby

My mind searches for words to describe your beauty

And the way in which you walk and your gaiety

As the clock runs down, so does my vocabulary.

Don’t think that I have consumed the golden drink

That always makes me madly think

Madly think that you are a Chinese mink.

How could I ever doubt that everyone will fall in love

It’s getting warm

 Still I don’t feel like removing my glove

I’m with my love, in my lair

Who when walks out into the open air

Oh I swear

That heart-piercing stare

That pair

Of legs

Which only I can dare

To touch

But only that much.

Do not think I’m inebriated thus rating you only physically

But these are the thoughts overrated by the devil mentally.

The anticlimax

The climax

Are unseen as ever before

As your love comes to the fore

But if I would be drunk

You would not be one but four

My god you know how well I can write

If I sit tight

And think right, but I am failing,

Or is it my sight?

Maybe I am a little high

Sigh! I feel so light I could fly

Oh God give me the strength

To keep those men at arm’s length

From this lass who

Makes me love her as much as you!!

Only one more bottle I can see

Just saw four, but that was quite before

There are people who cannot afford

This curvy being, with a golden filling

Hell! How those men must feel ill-fated

Let me see….am I intoxicated?

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