I love this. Poetry should intoxicate us. We need more bootleggers. this world is lacking in the requisite amount of poetry to make us forget our sorrows. And who doesn't need a little oblivion now and then? From someone who comes from a long line of bootleggers, drunkards, and ne'er do wells, this really hits home!
I love this. Poetry should intoxicate us. We need more bootleggers. this world is lacking in the requisite amount of poetry to make us forget our sorrows. And who doesn't need a little oblivion now and then? From someone who comes from a long line of bootleggers, drunkards, and ne'er do wells, this really hits home!
Temptation can lead to trouble. Not wise to take a swig if there is any chance of not remembering anything the next day. Nothing pretty about a drunk. I have known a drunk jester or two in my years. It didn’t end well. Better to bite your tongue than to let it run away with you. Some won’t pay heed, they will just do it anyway.
Sometimes it is a bit of the waft and whiff of the spirits which doth loosen the tongue of quill and men to speak that which, otherwise, could not be said, and remain allies and friends ...
Reality is that which we do need a swig of. That and a shot of Humanity's misery upon that platter's plate of served up before us so that we cannot escape cannot claim to no know or see, that misery which others do suffer, whilst, those like you and me live day to day carefree, drunk on life, intoxicated upon amenities and cheap frills that never fill bellies or warm hearts ... For the textbook definition of drunkenness is that of existing and living within a realm of total unawareness of one's surroundings, that which is taking place right before one's eyes, ears, and nose, and not sniffing the stench of other deposed or dispossessed of homes, livelihoods, security, safety, and very lives as important to the afflicted as our selfish selves do deem our fortunate selves, wives, sons, and daughters to be, just because we are you and we are me, and we think to live in the land of the brave and the home of the free, as a grade above all the hubbub, simply because we are us, and they, they are condemned to be them, those whom we claim to care about, but who would ever truly know for the deafening din of our supreme sin of a daily costume ball of indifference.
Marve
Posted 1 Year Ago
1 Year Ago
Much true insight in this reply, Marve...thank you for the thoughtful review...
j.
Originally from Bronx, NY, I live in Carbondale, Illinois...teach English at a community college and have been writing and publishing poetry since 1970. I am here to read for inspiration from other po.. more..