Drop a rock into a still pond,
and the ripples echo.
A large enough rock,
and a pond sized tsunami,
waves echoing beyond the edges.
Every step I take creates ripples.
Sometimes, a tsunami.
After all, I'm not screaming in outer space.
And the trillions of steps before mine
that gave me the ground I walk on,
need to be acknowledged by the care I take with every step.
"Down, down, down into the darkness of the grave Gently they go, the beautiful, the tender, the kind; " Edna St, Vincent Millay
A
Uncle
And an aunt
Both long gone now
Alcohol took them
Despite them giving all
Their hearts to others, always
With love, faith and hope for morrow
Going beyond their means to give full
Gestures of goodness, compassion and grace
May 20, 2020
Etheree Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Dear Heart
Theme chosen ~ 3. Death
Chicago's like a box of alcoholics
you always know what your gonna git
gang bangers and amateur rappers
pick pockets and sidewalk crappers
trolls guzzling homebrew under a bridge
worst types of people in the world
my mother had opinions
about everything under the sun
dividing the world
into those that bored her
amused her or charmed her
dividing the world in those that knew
and those that did not know
she had particular scorn
for so called experts
saying a PHD
meant BS piled high and deep
never trust an expert
she would expertly assert
her greatest scorn
her greatest scorn
was for reformed drunks
calling them the worst
of the lot
they should shut up
and have a drink already
she smiled as she drank
and pontificated
about the political class
she had enough of them all
berkeley hill liberals bored her
bored her silly
with their endless games
among the literati set
Alcoholics and Druggies die every day
That's the chant.
Their vice is a monster they endure at first, then regret,
Then fully embrace until life just slips away.
Their lives were full of shoulda, coulda, and woulda's
They would get to someday
Which is now irrelevant.
Alcoholics and Druggies die every day.
Doesn't this piquet you in some way?
Have we become that complaisant?
Their vice is a monster they endure at first, then regret,
Then fully embrace until life just slips away.
They were people look at the survey
Their lives weren't insignificant.
Alcoholics and Druggies Die Every Day
They just couldn't break away
From the horrible intoxicant.
Their vice is a monster they endure at first, then regret
Then fully embrace until life just slips away.
I pray
That people will read this and on their mind I can implant
Alcoholics and Druggies die everyday.
Their vice is a monster they endure at first, then regret,
Then fully embrace until life just slips away.
iconoclastic poets
with no evidence
of skill or polish
in the existing
system of boredom
violence of love
unmasked and naked
splashed on the rites
of the system
threatening and powerless
risking anarchy for freedom
disfigured finds solace
in the clutches of
fermented purple grapes
we call them alcoholics
Picturesque beauty - the sunrise, sunset
The rays - that hue - those shades of bronze
Beauteous - that yellowish tint or the rainbow
Way up high - after the rain! imagine that
Imagery of waterfalls - the beaches in the sands
Or the sparkles of the first fallen sparkling snow
Beauty walking the paths through the gardens of life
Sitting at docks or tossing rocks skipping in the pond
Picture the house well painted and well maintained
Imagine yourself, imagine that - no love by any chance
A drunk - lying in the ditch or on the treasured ground
The photo in your scrapbook to think about you're around
Imagine that midlfe - middle age crisis - look at you!
Imagine that! your companships - the bottles
Imagine your health - self love , self pride OH!
Feeling sorry for your own self, love your friends worldwide
We love you! Imagine that enough to tell you to detoxify
Imagine that earn a madallion - and clean up
Picturesque- the opportunity of the life you could live
Fancy that with each sunrise, wow! waking up
Look at you! You do drinketh from that cup
Beauteous be, beautiful day, carry a madallion today?
Wonder why?
To pick up the bottle
drown in my sorrow,
drink it,---all gone
as a drunkard
I wait for tomorrow
wake up with the sun on my face
don't even remember the day
is it SUNDAY?
OH NO! it's MONDAY
time to find my pride
better yet I'll lay back down to die
my back on the ground
the tree gives little shade
maybe I'll fade
the bottle empty at my side
thats how I feel inside
I try to hide
but every one knows
tonight I will get another bottle
drown myself another night
ad wake up as empty
as the bottle at my side
I'm dead but very much ALIVE