I blame the whiskey and the whiskers



You opened the door

and out flew the dog

and in the bird pranced

for it is a topsy turvy world

That’s what was said at the stroke of midnight


It was all such a bore

the night had to become a fog

Everyone tapped and danced

Swirled and twirled

The eventual fight left a blight


The whiskey was the key

The whiskey was the fuel

The whiskey left a burning hole

in what should have been a heart


Nothing left to abhor

but one’s solemnly ridiculous grog

Boiled and lanced

Nonsensical thoughts while in the corner curled

This is the height of foggy fright


Time to call it a night

and try to not wonder what this was all about

Just blame it on the whiskey and the whiskers

Maybe tomorrow there will be clarity




Categories: Culture, Humor, Poetry, Psychology

Tagged as: , , , , ,

5 replies »

  1. He of whiskers was not very nice. It sounds dreadful. I never know why so many expressions are so vague and tragic sounding. It sounds horrible if it would be fleshed out. I could never understand the purpose of vagueness in poetry. I’d rather have the full beard.


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