Our Drunk Life

A drunkard dances, and goes down,

holding your wounded wrist,

itchy in every touch, but you tolerate

his scorching breath when kissed.

I bet you hate him, for he staggers

at night when golden wine glitters on

his slovenly moustache and yeah

his annoyed balderdash comments on politics--

endless curses of his broken life and yours as well.

For a moment you almost slam the door, yet his eyes are

drunken and smile like an azure sky. Hesitating,

he vomits on the door, lolls against the wall

and refuses to walk without your help.

I bet you hate alcohol for its bitterness in life.

You have seen broken bottles and men thrilled, blushed faces  

like three-year-olds, celebrating their dumbness

and unceasing life within lies.

Yet everyone should take a drink after sunset,

bring an empty heart to be toasted

when crowds swirl like snakes and alcohol makes mistakes.

A dizzy pub just a place for lost lambs.

Everyone should take a shot at

pouring Vienna beer. Saturated goblet reflecting honey lip

may be not enough, yeah,

two more glasses before sunrise please.

Your eyes polished by a kiss from wine, now

you stagger like your man.  A waltz you crave

for long, hold my hand and dance, go down to

curse the world without concern, move your body

in random rhythm and sweat

sweat like a man clasps his drink on streets

talking nonsense and leaning entirely on someoneÕs arm.

How about Pinot Gris?


Take more and more and you will be finer

Cause thatÕs how we celebrate our life when we are drunk. 




We, once united as finger and toe

break down and boom like bomb

our entanglement never end properly

Fierce fight, we flame, growing like

splendid firework to marvel

Yet our blood evaporated like dragonfliesÕ

wings under damp December stick

in sheet of ice and tear into two, two

malformed fossils hidden in earth core

you or me who cause or more ?

It doesnÕt matter

when we both bleed in two

Two fools flutter with misshapen alas

wild bites in love our blood

mingle, or bone or tongue


We fight and love and bite.



Gardenias on Mounds


my ancestorsÕ tattered wedding dress

stops whining in grave nights

when I wake up at four

checking damp garret, sunlit dew

drops from musty window

crimson spots sprayed in a circle

twenty inches in radian

dark-violet spoors left

by manÕs mild abuse

rippled and sparkled

on wooden floor


I wended through gray marble path

abandoned backyard

gardenias perished for centuries

drafty rosary

her breath fainted in my grandfatherÕs bulky fists

my uncleÕs rusty hammer to nail her on gallows

staggering in noxious brandy

blue-green bruises weeping on her wrists

She waited

and held breath

for the brave blossom in dim



gardenias are blooming

brighter than haughty boasters

their jaunty handlebar moustache

shave and shiver

our jubilant parade

I wend through the lemongrass

gardenias spinning in raspberry sundown

as if terrible torture never stands over morning mist

I put glittering marguerites

on simple mounds

slumber whispers to withered fleshes

we muse in mellow breeze

sigh flutters with unrestricted brook

a place faraway

© Shi Yang Su

Bio:  Shi Yang Su is an international student who is currently studying Creative Writing. She loves reading poems and would like to share her work with others.