A drunk and Stormy night.

Day five. National poetry month
 

A drunk and stormy night (no relation to me)

Twas a dark and stormy night
a Light of flashing oh what a fright
rumble of thunder was heard a far.
In the place they park the cars.

Thee stumbled, over trippers
also known as furry slippers
upon yeah face you did splat
being drunk, it works like that

With no lights you hit your head
Under frame that is the bed
You grunt, swear words to plunder
while there be a storm of thunder

You fall into your spiteful cot
and close your eyes, buts sees a spot
which dances now around your noodle
like a demented crazy poodle

It feels the room now is gyrating
Your body is now levitating
A vision now of aged Kebab
consumed in speeding yellow cab

Under par, ailing upchuck.
The noise you make is like a duck.
A dying duck put through a mangle:
shoved in at an obtuse angle.

You stagger now to the rest room
in the power cut of gloom.
With a general aspiration
causing a slight perspiration.

And so at last you find your goal
very near to the loo roll.
Face descends into porcelain abyss
and so meaty treats dismissed.

Few minutes pass, a snort with echo.
The sort that would come from a gecko
if it had been run over with a truck.
(Animals in the poem have no luck)

And so you pass out in the John.
Your friendly roommate won’t be long
His camera phone now silently dapper
recording the snoring in the crapper.

And so the storm has gone away
to come back for another day
But if you wish to see a silly Tom
go to WWW you tube dot com.