Poetry pt2

A Gin says John, a sober judge
among a bramble of rum-soaked thorns,
with Whiskey-Whispers from Martini Mike
Jack-Daniel Dave and not to mention Vodka Vaughan.
John of Gin, he takes a seat upon his bony throne
a withered king, Kingdom come and Kingdom bring,
one more glass till bar-bell rings.
Empire out beneath his feet; he see’s a many archer beat
by rival archer as they compete for a crown that’s braid by wheat.
He turns his throne to face the key, a bar that plays sorrow melodies,
and as he plays his favourite tune,
a ghostly figure fills the room.