Half Past A Headache

Uncork the bottle and pour me a drink
A long one
A strong one
I don't want to think

Ethanol, methanol, I really don't care,
Don't store it
Just pour it
Let's shave the dog's hair

A curse from the rim of a beaker of rum
Or handbags
And gladrags
With a bottle of Mumm

A thimble of whiskey, a gallon of wine
A tall one
A small one
Just please don't call time

A girl in the corner, her red hair a mess
Dirt marks
From car parks
On a green viscose dress

Ear-bending strangers in oak panelled bars
Are crying
And lying
In a haze of cigars

The bartender's towel, coming loose at the seams
Wipes beers
And salt tears
From a bar soaked in dreams

Outside the rain falls, a soft veil that hides
The flotsam
And jetsam
On the edge of life's tide.

by Martin O'Neill

Comments (3)

I spilled coffee on my keyboard as I was reading this. I tried posting a comment. Too late! I had to pull an old keyboard out - and reboot the computer - in order to express my deepest gratitude for this poem. And the previous one. A healing experience, except for my keyboardparrot. Thanks so much.
What a fun poem Charles! I will have to see if you've written 'Jungle Jim 1'' I must've missed it if you did. (this would make a fun book for children!) Sincerely, mary
Charles, that was quite eventful... nice job! Brian