Drunken Poet

There have been some drunken poets
And so many of them are great
I'll soon be known for my poems
After this poem I fabricate

I'm off to write this one poem
So I went to my silent den
I drank a bottle of vodka
Then I took out a blue inked pen

Looking for a piece of paper
So this rhyme I can try to start
I'm told that all true poetry
Comes from deep down within our hearts

Out comes a bottle of brandy
As it's liquids run down my throat
My heart soon begins to awake
From my heart I begin to quote

A few minutes into writing
Some inspiration is needed
All I need is some Kahlua
Then back to work I proceeded

The clock is still ticking away
My vision remains at a blur
Afraid I might become sober
This time I drink down some liqueur

Trying to keep up this vast pace
Writing this poem against time
If I run out of alcohol
I may never finish this rhyme

All my word just roll off the tongue
I never need to stop or think
All my rhymes just seem so perfect
Just because of a little drink

This will be by far my best work
With all my emotions expressed
Alcohol just makes me so loose
Not one thought or feeling suppressed

Why not add to the enjoyment
As I look for a bit of gin
If there was a competition
I'm sure that this poem would win

I get my self some Jack Daniels
And a few of that Jacob's creek
Soon I'll make drunken poetry
One hell of a renown technique

Wine will give my poem a taste
Rum will give it a little twist
Tequila will give it a punch
Whisky will be a nice assist

But this poem can not stop there
For it has to be really great
As I head off to the cellar
Each alcoholic drink I take

In hand I have some fortified
A heap of spirits beers and wines
Champaign, cider, and lexia
My poem will be going fine

So back up to the den I go
As each drink I begin to drink
I begin to feel light headed
As they disappear in one blink

My vision has gone all dizzy
As the alcohol takes it toll
Before I know I'm passing out
I never met my poems goal

I'm rushed into a hospital
Where my stomach contents get drained
My mother asked "am I stupid?"
Followed with "do I have a brain?"

Daddy is still waiting at home
He reads the poem that I wrote
Just a crazy bunch of squiggles
Thinking it's my suicide note

I must have been completely pissed
That I could not see the lines
From being a drunken poet
I believe its time to resigned

But just for fun, in English class
If poems you’re forced to write
Tell your teacher about drunken poets
And experience this drunkenness delight.

[note: This is actually a modified repost of "Drunken Poet (the drunkenness delight) by Quan Chi. I helped him write this a few years back as dedication to someone on this site. Since he is no longer a member of this site. I thought I'd repost this poem so that its purpose would remain with this site indefinitely].
[edit: The reason for the modifications, is due to my draft version being slightly different to that of the original piece from Quan Chi].