Dancing Drunk

I have heard many people talking about different levels of drinking. I think one of the most relate-able is the level where you get really good at pool. Enough to calm your nerves but not so much that you can't see the ball. Jimeoin had a bit about it(normally I'd post a link to YouTube at this point but I can't find it, if you're keen to watch it, it was off The Jimeoin - All Over The Shop), but in it he only had four levels and while most of those are relevant for me, he leaves out one that I find very important. I call it the Dancing Drunk level. It is a medium to high level and usually requires a few drinks to reach that magical place, but when I get there it is glorious. The next day when I'm stung up and people ask me how drunk I was, I just answer "Dancing Drunk."

On The Level

Through my boozy mist,

I get to boogieing down.

I begin with the twist,

and then start to twirl around.

There follows a swaying of the hips,

a slight wobbling at the knees.

Sweat begins to drip,

I let my spirit free.

I'm almost unaware,

certainly without inhibition.

I really do not care,

I'm putting on an exhibition.

Pure unbridled joy,

stripping to be a tease.

Not even trying to be coy,

I am completely at ease.

Then the evening ends,

and much fun was had.

Even if I have to pretend,

that the dancing wasn't bad.

There's Plenty Of Fish In The Sea

Well Saint Valentines Day is rolling around again. If I had a significant other in my life I might have written something for her. But I don't. So I wrote this for myself, and for anyone else who is yet to find the one, as a reminder not to give up hope.

Cast Your Rod

Cast your rod into the water,

don't leave it unused on the shore.

Cast your rod into the water,

even if you've caught nowt before.

You might pull up a boot.

You might pull up a sack.

You might pull up a tree root.

You might pull up something,

that you'd rather throw back.

Cast your rod into the water,

throw your line into the sea.

Cast your road into the water,

catch the one that's right for thee.

You might be teased.

You might be sharked.

You might be displeased.

You might be left casting, 

until well after dark.

Cast your rod into the water,

all loaded up with bait.

Cast your rod into the water,

get in now, don't make them wait.

You might have been snagged.

You might have been beached.

You might have been bagged.

You might have found those beauties,
just out of reach.

Cast your rod into the water,

throw it out a little deeper.

Cast your rod into the water,

land yourself that one true keeper.

Woman of Negotiable Affection

I'm sure Kanye West didn't coin the term, but it was the title of one of his well known songs that originally got the ball rolling on this one. I went a different way with it ended up probably a closer resemblance to AC/DC (had to resist the urge to re-use the money-honey rhyme). Which is much more to my personal taste.

Gilt Mole

You've been waiting all week,

for this day to get paid.

You've been waiting all week,

for this day, you need to get laid.

You know who you want.

She's pure sex on legs,

but such a bitch, even with the cash,

she'll probably still make you beg.

You head off to the bar,

ready to stake your claim.

Make your way inside,

to find your short term dame

She stands surveying the room.

With a practiced eye.

She thinks she's struck it rich,

passes you right by.

But it's just gold for fools,

all sparkly and fake.

No sugar daddy here,

she leaves him in her wake.

Now she's panning the dance floor.

Finds a smattering of dust.

Not enough for her desires,

she stomps off in disgust.

Now she's standing at the bar,

pick slung over her shoulder.

You have another drink,

feel yourself growing bolder.

The whiskey kicking in,

you seize upon the lull.

Toting all your glittering gold,

hoping not to be seen as dull.

You wander up slowly,

she gives you a sneer.

You know she's thinking,

"Why the fuck is he here?"

You produce your wad,

now she's struck it rich,

and for an hour at least,

she's your sexy bitch.

Improper Serenade

I'd forgotten all about this little bit, found it in my pad the other day. Some years ago at a party, I heard someone entering the room I was in. Assuming it was one of my mates, I drunkenly proceeded to sing a rather vulgar song, thinking they'd join in. Turns out it was a rather lovely girl, who I was unacquainted with. All things considered, she took it pretty well.  But not that well. First impressions do count and after subsequent meetings, I was left to ponder what might have been.

Improper Serenade

The first words I spoke to you,

were meant for other ears.

Your kind disposition, and

unrelenting patience,

have shone through during the years.

Your hair of gold,

eyes of blue,

your quick and stunning smile.

Nothing to do without you,

but sit and wait a while.

Talking The Talk

I was staying at a hostel a few months back, there were a couple of Irish lasses in the dorm. I don't think they were too interested in me but we had a couple of beers and something about the way they spoke moved me-

Could You Say That Again...?

I go soft in the head,

whenever you begin to speak.

Something about how you talk,

makes my knees a little weak.

The story that you're telling,

is a landscape being painted.

The way your words fall on my ears,

feels like I'm being sainted.

My slightly bemused look

appears to cause you some hesitation.

There's no misunderstanding,

nor struggle with interpretation.

You certainly didn't stutter,

your words were perfectly formed.

It's just the sound of your lilting brogue,

can't help but leave my heart warmed.

So carry on and continue

with your lyrical waxing,

even with my untrained ear,

I don't find it taxing.

But please don't think me rude,

or unnecessary pain,

if I turn to you and ask,

"Could you say that again?"

Exercising Demons

The way I figure it, I'll always have my demons. All I can do is learn to live with them. Let them out when its appropriate (I don't always get the timing right). I originally wanted to try and turn this into a song then I decided maybe it wouldn't work. Because of that it could probably do with a re-write but I did some pretty heavy exercising last night band so I can't be arsed.

Exercising My Demons

I'm gonna exercise my demons today,

I'm gonna make em run around.

And it'll blow all my blues away,

I'm gonna drive right em into the ground.

I'm on the hook and they're off the chain,

It'll probably cause some short term pain,

Letting em writhe round in my brain.

But I'm gonna exercise my demons today,

I'm letting em on the loose,

While I chase all my blues away,

I'll be my own cooked goose.

So don't fetch your holy bible,

Nobody else will be liable,

Just me and my self made rival.

Exercising my demons today

I'll be hitting em with the crop

Riding all my blues away

I won't stop till they drop.

Driving straight to my personal hell,

Located in a padded cell,

Won't be out till the final bell.

Exercising my demons today,

I'm Sending them out uptown.

And blow all my blues away,

While I drink my whisky down.

I don't need no exorcism,

It'll be alright,

Cos when this is all over,

Boy I'll sleep well tonight!

After I exercise my demons today

Gonna send em round the track,

And blow all my blues away

they'll be too tired to make it back.

It might raise a racket

But put away your straight jacket

Cos I'll be able to hack it

Exercising my demons today

Making em run around,

And blowing all my blues away,

While I drink my whisky down.

Pickled Egg

I'm too drunk to even give this a title-

He who laughs last,

Laughs loudest.

But what happened to the first?

His giggles have subsided,

Replaced with

Unquenchable thirst.

Lying in a barrel

Bruised and roundly battered

His false existence of a dream

has publicly been shattered.

He wanders round now aimlessly

Confused and slowly spurned

The fault he finds it blamelessly

Having lost all respect he'd earned.

Bitter rises with the bile,

He finds now in his throat.

The failure it does linger a while,

As he sheds this Earthly coat.