Drinking The Dregs

[Bueller]

Hi Keith! I think part of the problem might be that a large portion of the poem is spent describing things that aren't what you define the poem as being 'about' (the squabbles that flare and die down). I think if you start the 'action' sooner in the poem, it will be more engaging. As is, it's a poem where nothing much happens. What's good about the beginning is that it does convey a boredom that often gives way to manufactured excitement, you just have to actually bring the excitement.

I sit and pick the label from
a bottle of Newcastle brown,
drowning seems to be the forecast.
Bubbles shoot like space invaders,
gathered gas collects in the neck
conspiring to make me cough. -- I think you can cut Bubbles.....cough. Everything else, I like and helps establish the boredom.
Programmed spots do a lonely robot,
the empty floor reveals their dance,
a change in colour breaks the trance.

Its happy hour, so I smile and knock back, -- I do like the idea of smiling because it's happy hour.
double Pernod mixed with cider and black,
the red witch trips tongues, turns eyes into slits
but no one around me gives a shit.
My table tops awash with slops,
I fold and float a rizzla boat
then sail outside for another smoke.
A damaged bloke gets his tattoos too close,
my shoulder goes cold but he won't be told,
is it red or blue to diffuse a fight? -- I like this idea of the different wires, but I don't think that a roll-up is comparable enough to a wire to make it work.
a prison thin roll-up
seems to make things alright. -- Not much in this final stanza holds my attention.

I think that you should give editing a go because you have a good handle on subtle rhyme and assonance, and I think the original idea is good. I'll be interested to see what you do with it.

Cheers,

Luke