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Magic Liquid
by Fredrich MohreMagic Liquid in my glass,
Too much of you, I’m on my ass….
Molson Gold, Tequiza too,
I just can’t get enough of you.
With some sour mash on the side,
You’d thought my brain cells all have died.
You make me happy, make me rhyme….
(And a stupid ass at closing time.)
Next morning, God, it is the worst.
“Call 9-1-1, or call a hearse”
“What the hell’d I drink last night?”
(Or did I lose a hatchet fight?)
Put Band-Aids over both my eyes,
To stop the bleeding, ‘for I dies…
Bring your gun and hear my plea,
Just put me outa my misery.
One more drink, (the one I hate)
Alka-Seltzer…make it straight.
Much, much later in the day,
My head and stomach feel OK.
So just one beer and just a squirt
Of old Jack Daniels wouldn’t hurt.
Ahhhhh….Magic Liquid, we ain’t through,
I just can’t get enough of you…….
03/06/2009 Posted on 03/06/2009
Copyright © 2026 Fredrich Mohre
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Gabriel Ricard on 03/06/09 at 09:17 PM You can't help but like the voice in this one. Really great, man. |
| Posted by Maude Curtis on 03/06/09 at 09:38 PM Funny. Sad thing is I've been there and had to go to work the next day. Thank goodness for IV Therapy and 100% O2 |
| Posted by Rhiannon Jones on 03/08/09 at 03:32 AM :-) Funny. |
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