a drunk staggers
around the corner, and stares
into the full moon.
Full Moon [Senryū]
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Tag Archives: drunk
“Picking Mulberries” by Ouyang Xiu [w/ Audio]
Adrift on West Lake in a wine-laden, colorful skiff:
As flutes play fast and lutes, deftly
And a jade cup circuits swiftly,
The boat's calm rocking lulls the drunk into sleep.
Thin clouds seem to float right under the rudderless boat.
The water's blue matches the sky's,
As lake to sky and back move eyes,
"Do the clouds above match those that in the water float?"
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Wine Dance [Senryū]
the poet's wild dance
spills not a drop of wine,
but for down the throat.
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“West River Moon” by Su Shi [w/ Audio]
Wavelet on wavelet glimmers by the shore;
Cloud on cloud dimly appears in the sky.
Unsaddled is my white-jadelike horse;
Drunk, asleep in the sweet grass I'll lie.
My horse's hoofs may break, I'm afraid,
The breeze-rippled brook paved by moonlit jade.
I tether my horse to a bough of green willow.
Near the bridge where I pillow
My head on arms and sleep till the cuckoo's song awakes
A spring daybreak.
Translation: Xu Yuanchong [translator]. 2021. Deep, Deep the Courtyard. [庭院深深.] Cite Publishing: Kuala Lumpur, p. 238
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Phantasm Avenue [Free Verse]
Bleary-eyed drunks
stagger down the street;
Eyes drawn to
orbs of color,
Looking up,
the lanterns become
planets.
Spinning spheres of
vertiginousness
that send tipsy chappies
face first into terra firma.
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“Rouged Lips” by Qin Guan [w/ Audio]
Drunk, me and my boat float freely downriver.
Unfortunately, I can't stay amid the flowers.
Hazy waters sprawl; sun, countless mountains high.
Red blossoms shower downward.
I don't know how I got here.
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Hazy Moon [Haiku]
the moon is hazy;
whether it’s the clouds or
my mind, I can’t say.
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Drunkard’s Walk [Haiku]
a drunkard strolls, reciting mangled poetry: streetlamp as spotlight
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Indonesian Snake Massage
A Python, but no massage
What could be more relaxing and luxuriating than laying on a massage table and having pythons heaped upon one to slither and writhe their way around one’s body? Many people might answer that question with replies like, “being set on fire”, “a prostate exam”, or “a pop math quiz.” Yet, some people dig this unusual form of therapy, and are willing to pay big bucks for it.
If you’ve traveled in the third world, you know that there are ever new and innovative attempts to bilk tourists out of cash. However, there has to be something to a weird idea for it to really take hold. Consider the ubiquitous Southeast Asian “fish massage.” I’ve tried it. It isn’t really a massage, but it does involve fish–namely little fish that eat away one’s dead skin cells to exfoliate and tickle at the same time. I don’t know if the fish massage does much good, but it feels weird, has some novelty to it, and is a good way to both get off one’s feet and experience ten minutes without someone trying to sell one something else odd and questionable.
Will the python massage (no, that is not a euphemism, innuendo, or a phrase from bad erotica) survive? I believe it will. Why? Because behind every insane idea there are drunk backpackers with Type-A personalities challenging one another to “go for it.”
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POEM: They Spiked My Punch
They spiked my punch.
I had no lunch.
I got so drunk, so very drunk.
Drunker than I thunk
that a man could ever be,
and I don’t know if I can trust what my eyes did see:
I saw: two elephants riding pogo sticks,
the Taj Mahal made of Lego bricks,
Ned Flanders as a creepy voyeur,
A lady talking to an honest lawyer,
goats doing kung fu in the park,
a talking dog and a man who barked,
a traffic cop with a great big smile,
the line for kicks formed in single file,
two geese played a wicked ping-pong match,
I got hit by a bus–look not a scratch.
Tiger Riding for Beginners 