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C.C. Hogan

Drunk Verse - A poets life

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Just occasionally I forget the wit and just write from within.

(Scroll down to hear me read it)

Drunken writer
Swimming in alcoholic abyss
Believing love cures all
Sins of a past life revisited.
Saving self means love's sweet kisses given.
Forgiving friends are paramount;
A safe haven to hide old guilt.
Love all, love now,
Drunken writer cries long and hard,
But honesty is mine, thine,
And drunkenness divine

Why are all us stoned lovers
So wanted and needed?
What is it that we fulfil?
Does our unkempt hair
And pissing airs so entice?
let me wrap you tight
And raise you so high
Beyond your own ambition
As you explain why ugliness sublime
Is so reviled!

Kiss me, impale me.
Relent not your passion
But yield to your need, my want
And breathless and screaming
both now inebriated
shall sate our primeval needs
and ascend to true artistry.
Yes, I want and you need
And our mutual desperation
Shall conquer all impropriety
And join, deep within
And succumb

Quietness yet,
Arrogance in expectation
Two vicious hearts heated
Lovers entwined and exhausted.
Yes, I love you, maiden of the quirky verse
Five, seven, five, no variant allowed
But know now you will not love me
Lest I push hard and false and itinerant!
Tramp I, old I, emphatic I,
But I will impale you with my words
Stimulate you with ideas
Punish you, hate, you, love you.

Ask once and never more:
What desires the poet?
If it is only to impress, soften?
Then wasted is the effort!
No, the true desire of the rhymer
Is to imprison, corrupt.
Take up and abuse, defuse, allude,
And shove their phallic insinuation
into the angry vessel of wanton desire.

You gasp?
Are you horrified or aroused?
Tell me, for I have not the inclination to wait.
I will take and tease and tantalise,
But then I will forget you.
Another muse, another need,
Another night, orgasmic greed.
Shocked? Why?
I have never hidden who I am.
Fat, hideous, ancient, unrelenting.
But I will love you.
I will layer my passion,
Over your timid soul.

Oh, dear love,
Do you not see me?
None do really as I write incoherently.
I am passion and aching desire,
And I fight for reality, friendship need.
But I have forgotten who I am,
Who I was, who I need to be.
Harsh, challenging, but loving.

Oh, I love and can love,
As none other.
But it is not desirable now
In this bland insipid world.
Drunken I am released.
Drunken you will be in my arms
and together we will scream our passion loud.
Will others understand?
No, probably not, but I care little.
I am me; pissed, angry, irrelevant,
But care I not because when I love you,
You will feel all, absolute!


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