Hol of Alco

A poem about that all-encompassing substance that means so many different things to so many different people

Hol of Alco

Dancing, incandescent substance

Burning, destroying, killing material

Anesthetising, numbing, shielding drug

Entertainment, social lubricant, bringer of fun

All these things and more,

All brought by Alcohol

Killer of microbes, cleaner of wounds

Destroyer of thought, executioner of control

Murderer of Man, Woman, and Child

Oh ancient invention

From the depths of time

Why we still hold onto you

Will it ever be known?

All the crushing pressures of existence

Weighing down upon the shoulders

The hapless humanity

With the golden hand of salvation

Reaching out with its solution

And soon You cannot live

Without that hand holding yours

Needing to hold it ever more, ever more

Until you can live without it never more, never more

 

You see enemies

You see friends

The feeling of security

The feeling of being alone

All alone

Surrounded by the feeling

By the all-encompassing, demanding, extracting shield

The feeling of the Hol of Alco

The ancient invention of humanity

As it takes control of you

The feeling of control merely an illusion 

Until you have submitted to its rule

Until you cannot survive without

As you continue to inflict upon yourself

For once it has taken control

What choice is there left?

Dancing, incandescent substance

Burning, destroying, killing material

Anesthetising, numbing, shielding drug

Entertainment, social lubricant, bringer of fun

All these things and more,

All brought by Alcohol

Killer of microbes, cleaner of wounds

Destroyer of thought, executioner of control

Murderer of Man, Woman, and Child

Oh ancient invention

From the depths of time

Why we still hold onto you

Will it ever be known?