
What else is there you ask?
Beneath the veil of yeast and silt, Where lazy brewers hide their guilt, A world of liquid light awaits, Beyond the murky, stagnant gates.
Discard the pulp, the grit, the burn, To older, purer wisdom turn; For why drink clouds of heavy gray, When gold can wash the ghosts away?



The Pillars of the Light
The Noble Pilsner A blade of straw, a spark of flint, With herbal hops and floral hint. It stands as straight as soldier’s line, Decisive, bitter, crisp, and fine.
The Kölsch of Cologne The delicate bridge of fruit and grain, As light as mist and soft as rain. A whisper of grape in a vessel of glass, Watching the heavy shadows pass.
The West Coast King The pine, the resin, the citrus peel, With copper depth and heart of steel. It doesn’t hide behind the haze, It bites with joy and sets ablaze.
The Helles Bright A liquid bread, a malted glow, Where honeyed notes and biscuits flow. A gentle soul in a world of noise, The pinnacle of steady poise.
So let the sediment descend, Let “juicy” fables reach their end. Pour out the swamp, the sludge, the vice, And drink the fire, drink the ice.