‘Beers bitch’, Charlie babbled—
slurry speech a game of scrabble.
Charlie was a bitch to the beer,
drinking Mabble’s Apple Schnapple
in every pre-drink debacle.
‘Berrz Bit-ch’ Charlie babbled,
kissing the winking witch holding a crab apple.
Mabble: His wife in his train wrecked life.
At two to the gallon, he glugs like a fish.
‘Bers Birch’ Charlie babbled
under the tables
Chug-chug-chug the steamroller shout goes.
I watched him neck three, then five.
He was an utter car-crash disaster under the twinkly night,
losing his sight at pub number nine.
Now it was the pale ale for Charlie—We couldn’t stop him.
It turned him into a ‘seer’, his superpower from getting plastered!
Such a cheeky bastard! Well mister Charlie I bet you don’t know,
that your mooning arse was battered over the news!
You actually mean something, you wet wipe.
You’re famous alright!
Cheers,
Bitch.
Err, I don’t know what to say here. It’s a ridiculous poem that I just…wrote. Enjoy!
© Thomas Gallimore Barker, 2021
(@_3lectrify_)
Electrify 