Kahlua and Coffee, Midnight Weary:
Coffee beans and midnight dreary,
Fresh the grinds, and moi, so weary,
Yet I praise the gods I’m not
As I have been, overwrought.
This, instead of being teary, 
Rashly (brashly) eyes go bleary –
Now the dark and steamy brew
That I never shall eschew
Spiked in honor of a goal –
Where the hell’s the stripper’s pole?
Ah, the heat of bean and K,
This, the beat and pulse of play,
Now I feel the rip and wander
Of my thoughts that stir and ponder
Moving this and hiking that,
Hips a-saunter, haunting hat
Glittering from times afar
In pasts and lives where worries are
No longer present in this mix
Of fire + devil’s dance and fix –
Help me spirits! Mmmm, liqueur 
Certainly does not deter
Memories and thrumming parts
Reminding me of manly arts…
Now I’m on my second shot
(Shooting K, would that be “hot?”)
OH! I love this rich aroma
Coffee bean (and soon a coma?) –
Shit, this stuff is forty proof!!
Where’s a man, who’s not aloof
While I’m here, alone, at home
As imaginings will roam
Up and down the limbs that dangle
Wanting to be in a tangle
With another’s sexy verse
Rhyming, criming, never terse…
Yes, the odes to moms and more!
Momaloms have moms galore!
And they tease the wanton spirit
Out of hiding (do not fear it) –
Thus, we lusty middle agers
Need to carry sex-call pagers
So that these oft missed small hours
Might be greeted with male towers
Which, should memory preserve,
Lively welcome, do deserve.
Now, I sip my splendid third,
Lubricating thought and word,
Reaching K-and-coffee bliss,
Yes, I know the joy in this
,
Apt and luscious liquid wonder,
Wicked scepters slipped asunder,
Blessed brilliant coffee bean,
Lips and tongue, enhance the scene,
Offering a tender taste,
Then another (let’s not waste)!
OUI, I am a happy drinker,
Though the next day is a stinker!
Still, beloved coffee magic,
Life with all that can be tragic
Calls to us from time to time
To dip into recall, sublime,
Conjuring from bolt and thunder
Streams of raucous, rowdy plunder!
Now I must sip brew once more,
Then some water, lest the door
Be thrown open (God it’s hot)
And the Fuller Brush Man (NOT)
Might be in for more than wanted
(Hopefully, he’d come undaunted),
AND hélas I fear I just
Cast another clue of lust
Still alive among the folds
Of wimmins some would say are olds!
NOT the case; we simply soften,
Hungry, avidly and often
For the splendid coffee bean
dark and hard and long and lean,
Swollen, vibrant, apt to preen,
Ah, les gourmandises I’ve seen…
And we know how to ingest 
All elixirs, with the best,
Yes, this K-and-coffee sipping
Has me now a wee bit tripping,
Thus I shall unbutton blouse,
Fan and wander, hot, my house,
This, a bristling heat that fills
(Lowering electric bills) –
OH DEAR GOD, now number FOUR
Yes, I manage this last pour,
Warmly wanting to speak French,
Whisper: take me off the bench –
Oui, j’adore qu’un homme me prenne
Les yeux de braise, et moi, l’haleine
qui coupe, commence, ensuite, chaleur
dont j’avoue, je n’ai pas peur…
And supposing I need pillows
As the room, it turns and billows –
I shall lay my spinning head
K and coffee, yes, the bed –
Dreamy, creamy, gentle smiles,
Always part of comely styles.
But, the aspirin, can I find it?
Yes, some sleep, I shall not mind it.
Quit it. Just quit. I started reading this while standing, but had to sit down to finish because I thought I might actually fall over. (Not a stretch, really.)
I once wrote a parody of Annabel Lee, but it was nothing compared to this.
Now. If you’ll kindly excuse me, I’m going to call my husband to see if he can come home from work early….
BLW – You are going to have us all looking for men for our beds this evening.
Woah. Hot hot hot!
K and Coffee for Big Little Wolf
Means the game is on, the curtain is alooft
Pass the Bourbon its time to parlay
Me thinks we’re all in for an exciting partay!
I’m expecting one in my Christmas stocking. (Or a DVD of American-hot-hottie-hot Gigolo… as in: http://dailyplateofcrazy.wordpress.com/2009/10/01/mr-potato-head-richard-gere-faux-fur/ )
You see what happens when a childish mind overindulges in (cough, choke) caffeine??? (Life lessons, everywhere!)
Awesome, dude!! Truly masterful!!
Little people are very silly when they drink. (Sipping water, sipping water, sipping water… )
Damn. I need to go buy some Kahlua! 😉
Well done, BLW!
Manly arts? Male towers? To hell with the Baileys, I’m switching to K and coffee.
A post to match my sinful desires BLW. Well written even though half drunk. By the way, lovely photo. When are you going to bring your beautiful self out of the shadows?
No matter if you’re tipsy or not, your writing rocks!
Fuckity fuck fuck.
How did the rest of the day pan out? You lush you.
My husband is putting the little boys to bed. The big boy is playing the Wii in the same room as me, not hardly knowing how turned ON his mama is.
Yup. I said it. Turned on! You have successfully lit my fire. Between this post and the last. And now? Totally not knowing what I would write for my own half-drunk challenge…I think I now have a clue. My only concern is how much I will embarrass Jen and my mom. But I figure if I get drunk enough I won’t give a shit. And also? Topics change so quickly that I might just end up writing about something not super sexy but instead super sad.
Either way, I’m a little hot and bothered right now. I totally admit it. Lovingly.
One last thing: sure to be lots of drunken writing this week which means lots of editing needed. Feel free. I give you permission. I already corrected like 5 things in this 🙂
Right? I mean RIGHT?
Okay. Enough. Can you please share some of your talent, your sexy talent, with the rest of us? I am going to throw out that G word. Genius.
Brava, cherie. I’m about to start the preparation for writing my own Half-Drunk post and this was perfect for getting me, um, in the mood.
OK Aidan, Sarah, Linda et al… G word? Try G-spot. And I don’t mean THAT G-spot. Try this on for size… want to know how my “oh-you-lush-you” day panned out? It turns out, surprise surprise, that “G” word – I am such a GIRL. I’ve been chasing around the house as my son has been shaking his head because… uh… (to quote you Sarah, fuckity-fuck-fuck… ) the noises I heard a few days ago? Then they stopped? They started up again last night, and I heard something in the kitchen, and I went in, and granted my house is a mess BUT in the corner where there are some shopping bags and a tool box a shopping bag was wiggling and jiggling and I was NOT giggling but G-WORD INDEED I screamed, called my son, he came running, grabbed a flashlight and turns out there’s… EEEEK!! A mouse in the house!!!
HONESTLY, I’m both relieved (nothing died… plenty to eat on MY floors!) and terrified (such a girl thing, sheesh, and for a babe who washed her hair (admittedly drunk) in the polluted Volga of all places…) but the little mouse was even MORE scared and we tried to catch it but it took off and now OHMYGOD HOW WILL I EVER SLEEP THERE’S A MOUSE IN MY HOUSE!!!! (We know the general direction he took but that little creature could hide for a year before we’d ever find it. SOMEONE SEND A MAID SERVICE, PLEASE!!!)
G-word. Yeah. GIRL. GASPING. GUARANTEED to not sleep… and do NOT want to get a hurt-you trap. (We took some shredded mozarella out of the fridge and put it in a nice open starbucks bag – you know – sustainable-reusable-gourmet offering for the little guy… maybe he’ll wander his way in. I know. I’m dreaming.)
Gee. GRRRRR. Fuckity-fuck-fuck, the little thing has pluck there’s a tiny little mouse scurrying through my house! Now I need to drink, tell me what you think, will the cheese entice? GOD, I don’t like mice!!!!!
*Blink*
Wow dude.
Nnnnnnnnnnnnnicceeeee. *nodding rapidly*
See the nodding rapidly? So means I’m LOVING THIS POST!!
Sometimes just a spot of Merlot has a similar effect on me. Just a spot.
Ah, but this post adds the touch of caffeine at the right time. Why wait until the morning?
The very thought of such a thing… a drop of Merlot. Gives one pause.
Guess I need to drink more often. Um. Coffee, of course.
Oh my goodness. I feel old when I read about drinking after 9:30 at night and I become…sleepy.
Ah, I think I must BE old.
But I get a certain vicarious pleasure out of reading about your doings.
Occasionally I will write something at, say, 11 — and go back the next morning to see what nouns, verbs and conjunctions are MIA.
Doubly impressive. 😉
Ha! Anyone who gets vicarious thrills out of my doings must be reading my PR! (Wait… I don’t have any PR… ) My doings consist of looking for work, engaging my teen, teaching him to drive, writing endlessly, laundry, more laundry, and counting shoes instead of sheep. (I do have a very active imagination, however.) But definitely no drinking going on at 11 at night! (I have to get up and perform mother-duties, tra la…) That was a whole other legitimate home-based reason for drinking, a highly crucial coffee spiked literary challenge and it would be practically un-American to not rise to that challenge… and lots of water and carbs before my teenager got home from school… a very sober afternoon, and an evening spent trying to trap a mouse with gourmet shredded cheese. Only to find that stale Jif, apparently, will be the preferred method. If only the mouse would go (gently) into the night, MIA, but without hurting himself… AND – we’re not old, we’re “vintage” port, glittering hats, fine wines… and oh, for the men who would appreciate us (why are they all in France???) –
I just read it again and now instead of going to bed (which I should be doing) I’m going to pour myself a drink because you are so damned much fun. You, my dear, are a very bad influence. I love bad influences.
This is brilliant!!! Absolutely fantastic!!
Who the hell am I kidding? I’m half-comatose. Still. I love the idea of being influenced badly. I’m just too old to follow through.
I think the bigger question is — why are we here? 😉
One of my editors lives in Paris, and I am constantly trying to be gracious about it. On the other hand, he doesn’t gloat.
OMG that’s why I said to SARAH and JEN today – bad bad bad influence (and I love it)! Now – pour yourself something BUT put on BRAVO TV! Hot-Hottie-Hot himself, Jean Christophe Novelli is on, torturing these students (but he’s hot)…
Too OLD!?! Not. I’m… ahem… holding at 39, but that makes me older than you, and you already know my parts of speech desert from chronic sleeplessness (funny, I sleep better in France, too… must be the good bread) – so BE BAD – but safely. Only when you feel comfortable being bad (cuz it’s good) but we are responsible parental units, after all.
Ha! Great question! (I’m stuck here til kids are off to college… then, qui sait? … Paris is just a subway ride away…) and you?
Try peanut butter.
Tried peanut butter AND shredded cheese. (Done with morning mother duty and am now putting myself in “challenge” mode, so to speak… ) And apparently I shall have company while I write. That little creature ran in front of me TWICE this morning, early, while I was making coffee. And then I saw that the box I set out with both shredded cheese and peanut butter was still empty (except for the jar of PB) and that irritating little character had taken every damn shred of cheese and set it IN THE MIDDLE OF MY KITCHEN. I’m quite serious.
Even the mice in this house are characters. Sheesh… (Ignore the screaming in whatever I post today. I definitely need to drink, challenge or no challenge. To battle wits with a 2″ mouse.)
I can’t write when I drink. How did you do that?
Drinking again. Can rhyme-crime-anytime. Like breathing. Helluva challenge, DM. Pour yourself something. Give it a try. See what comes out. (Must pour another now.)
I about DIED when I read this last night. I didn’t even know how to respond!!
I looked at my husband and… well… almost pounced. Except for one little tiny detail. 6 WEEKS of NOTHING! I am DYING! postpartum abstinence. What the heck!
Okay, okay, enough. You have loosed the craziness that is lurking inside me. Literally. I think my hubby is wondering where that lovely, naive, girl he met went. I also think he likes this *new* me.