Posts Tagged ‘alcohol’

With his six string Excalibur,
The bar tab nomad is here,
A Picasso with a nomadic spirit,
A jukebox in a duster,
He’s your cowboy clown,
Bandaged fingers and dizzy eyes,
With a voice like smooth Jack,
Playing for spare change and cheap beers,
Every dive is his louvre,
If there’s a crowd still upright,
He’ll keep playing through the night,
But he can never settle down,
The devil is at his heels,
So before you even wake,
He’ll be already on the next highway,
Always towards the next stage.

There was a paltry man,
A common fixture of our alehouse,
Who was a garden variety coward,
Yellow eyes and yellower in heart,
Skeletal in build and gall,
Perpetually shaking even in the summer heat,
Quaking at every clang or cheer,
An embarrassment to his house,

But as the lager piles up,
Something would shift,
He grew larger and exuded assertiveness,
Adonis blended with Hercules,
Like Popeye with his spinach,
Hulk with his rage,
Gutsily if an iota dizzily,
Standing up to those pub bully boys,

Until the next morning,
He would remain a drunken silverback,
When once again his reflection would strike fear,
To none but himself.

Alcohol is a poison they say,
And I daresay they are right,
It is not cyanide it’s true,
Its modus operandi is insidious though,
It makes people change,
Brewery sponsored Hydes,
More primitive,
And somehow diminished,

As the venom is imbibed,
None prove unaffected,
Gentlemen revert to swine,
Dames start to shriek like banshees,
Pacifists become drunken brawlers,
And men of learning act like toddlers,
Common sense is suddenly rather rare,
Brains in inebriated flux,

The toxins incubation period,
A night on the town,
Painting the streets bruise-purple and red,
The poison does its work,
Leaving its victims ruined and awash with vice,
Flush with embarrassment,
Depositing an inhuman husk,
Laid beside a porcelain throne.

I’m a simple pub regular,
This establishment holds past events,
Memories hang in the air like beer flies,
And images reside in the ale sheens on the floor,
Pictures of past revels,

I peer wistfully over my stein,
I see myself in past banquets,
Cheers and absurdities round the tables,
Me and the other rats guzzling prismatic liquids,
Meeting the eyes of some fair dame,

These images,
Like ghosts in some haunted tavern,
They’re things that thankfully occurred,
A rogues gallery of my social life,
And I wouldn’t change it for the world.

In this temple of breweries,
Our beermat oasis,
The hours have been sanded away,
The drinks have been spilled,
Beer goggles donned by all,
The bell rings the end of our joviality,
No more amber will flow here,
We’ve made memories tonight its true,
We may not wish for the fervour to cease,
But if we do not leave,
Memories cannot flourish in our grey matter,
The present can’t be remembered.

I find at times,
Whether by chemical or trauma,
This force comes over me,
A kind of visual confusion,
Colours dancing in every course,
Surroundings growing indistinct,
My eyes glossing over,
Cellophane in the air,
Everything boils down to a blur,
A prismatic soup,
My brain jumping into its depths,
Sights and sounds and frights,
Lost on the tongue of my eyes.

When you have given yourself to another,
When you are in love,
You walk a perilous path,
A tightrope,
Ruby and velvet,
Laid across a chasm that seems familiar,
Yet terrifying all the same,
Romance is a game of balance,
Give and take,
Watch your footing,

Do not look down,
Nor left or right,
One side lies heartbreak,
The other a spousal thumbprint,
Sharks of grim dependencies wait below,
As black as despair,
Made of bottles and needles,
Stalking amidst shipwrecks of past trysts,
Splintered hearts of wood and all,
So keep true upon that rope my friend.

There was a clown I knew,
Who had forgotten how to laugh,
Rendered grim by alcoholic smog,
His painted smile had become begrimed,
Layered in mahogany muck,
A metallic sheen of depression,

His outfit was tattered,
Ripped asunder by times razor,
No more a flamboyant ensemble,
His clown shoes were worn through,
Revealing yellowed toenails,
Comedic value turned to dirt,

No joy was to be seen in in his visage,
The years have oxidised his smile,
Sections of his form blowing away like iron dust,
I longed to tell him,
His laugh was not to be found in his glass,
He scornfully chuckled and downed his poison,

He’d rusted away.

What went through your mind,
In those terminal moments?
As control was lost,
As the tyres cursed the road,
Before the impact,

Was it your family?
Your soon-to-be tearful spouse?
The little ones left behind?
All those holidays you’ll miss,
That place at the table nobody speaks of,

Or was it that last drink?
The sweetest of the evening,
The one your friends proposed,
The one nobody stopped you gulping,
Your conscience included,

Was it how you’d be if you made it?
The changes you’d make,
You’d get that new job,
Stop seeing that other woman,
Stop getting bags from that bad man,

As the vehicle careens,
It leaves tyre tracks,
Not only of obsidian rubber,
But also of a life of mistakes,
A car wreck of a life.

Tonight we go to the old pub,
To revel in the end of days,
A pale ale cloud aloft,
It is not as we remember,
Much has changed,

Perspex pubs and gloved gatherings,
Alcoholism has overruled common sense,
And likely common decency,
Impatience has crafted a short memory,
Of a plague put by the wayside,

Merrymakers stay at their tables,
Masked mutterings,
With their bottles and glasses,
Served by fear,
Only death drinks at the bar,

Lets jump pits of fire,
Sharks teeth,
And toxic clouds,
All for a pint,
All for the alcohol,

Last call!
For good!