Thoughts upon the difference between beer and wine

 

 

Once made from hops  beer is drank not savoured.

Its glugged and guzzled  -not quaffed: sloshed down

Either from aluminium cans or in pint –or if destitute

Half pint glasses  or –if one feels the need to pose-

In bottles .

Once it was the food and the wages of the poor.

 It was flushed into growing stomachs from  flagons:

Thick skin covered goblets of various sizes

Given by ruddy faced mistresses who would smile coyly,

As they inserted the gold coins between their raised and heavy

Rounded heaving breasts,

And from the eye winking  of a promise  of pleasure to come…

Beer comes in many flavours and has connections to stalwarts

Who rub their pubic beards: quote from olde folk songs

Then shout loudly through jabbering lips And wobbling teeth

About their hatred of Lager

Which is another beer But is full of “enzymes”

And is just not the same as “old” or “peculiar”

Or other names that sound the same,

For some reason I cannot intellectually gain.

Beer is designed to be entirely soporific

But without the love of feeling it.

And though its intention is to ease the tongue

In truth it deadens the heart

Slackens the tongue and then the mind.

Beer is an easy lay. Like a whore

She pleases her ponces as she pours herself into you,

She then leaves the room and the man just unsatisfied.

 

But once made from the fruit of the vine Wine needs slow time…

It needs to be savoured In long sips with  even longer pauses ,

Taken from fine crystal glasses that reflect the light just right.

Once it was the food of the Gods, And where Dionysus and Pan roved

So also flowed passion and desire And with that all the freedom

That is spent away from dire drudgery Of this passionless and soulless life.

Wine has been compared to blood And drunk near to  Vampiric

To infuse the soul the mind and then finally the entire body

In a moment of near ecstasy that cannot be compared to.

Wine unlike beer- already naked- has to be undressed

Slowly stripped upon the palate And –as with sandalwood upon the skin-

It has to be massaged sensually into The soft supple skin of the brain

This is how a fine wine  can extol a mortal frame In  a celebration of daze.

 

I have to say I have over indulged in both  and  prefer the delicacy  of wine.

I like to savour the taste and the words that readily  flow within it.

So forgive me if I say I will not pull you like a beer

Instead allow me –if you will-  to revel in the revealing of you

And as I dwell upon the words

You craft so artfully and well with tease and play

Let me take of you as I would wine

For play with wine Is fine play indeed.

© adh2014