Unveiling Secrets: The Hidden Tales Within G. S. Katz’s Poetic Journey
Ever find yourself caught between the clock’s ticking and those gnawing tales you just can’t keep bottled up? What’s the deal with the morning drink taboo—except when you’ve been out painting the town till dawn’s last gasp, and suddenly, there really is no tomorrow? This nifty little verse serves up a deliciously tangled web of reckoning and revelry, where stories aren’t just told, they’re settled, and the line between what’s acceptable and what’s inevitable blurs. It’s got that edgy, “hold-my-beer” vibe but with a poetic twist—you know, the kind that grabs you mid-thought and won’t let go. So, what’s your poison when the clock’s still not struck noon, but the night’s ghosts are already knocking? Intrigued yet? Thought so…
got some stories to tell
got some scores to settle
Is it 12 noon yet?
never drink in the morning
unless I’ve been out all night
then there’s no tomorrow
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