Another Antacids and beer Brooding brew, I’ll Cheating poem woman Whine me brew Acid grief to stomach maybe a do me better I should go now Last money for some I hope on the way more likely I will Oh God I am so sorry to be
dismal poem
insults all the time
have none of her stew
seen you down
the street
flaunting him
’cause he’s got the wine
antacids and stew
antacids and beer, but
good bleed out of
raging sorrow might
with hot pepper
and death.
where fainting people
are unnoticed
unrescued.
Rye whiskey and
ginger ailing — I
like that more than
malted milk
I’ll pass a lady
with baby carriage, carelessly
walking in front of a truck
who I can push out of the way
as martyr, but
be a sorrow of one
a humble snob
without rhyme.
speak now
acid and blood
—- Douglas Gilbert
(Henry Le Châtelier)
-
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