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I might have become a great writer
Had I twisted my screws even tighter
And embarked on a daily imbibble
To invoke that old alky-haze sybil,
The Magnificent Muse of the Moment,
Who can conjure up any component
Of a compositional genus,
Be it lim'rick or ode to one's Venus.
I'd become a subpar Malcolm Lowry,
Run around in the nude when it's showery,
Produce some Queneau-esque sestinas
While crawling 'twixt pubs and cantinas.
But should I require infusions
Of rum to inspire allusions?
For I've heard that a sprinkle of water
Works as well to empower a jotter.
Those displeased with lesser rewardom
Oft get high while reaching for stardom,
But they scale an unstable volcano
That may end with a slug to the brain-o.

Reviews

[KeithMansfield]

In an alcohol induced haze I believed I was a genius. I find this very relatable. Thanks for sharing it here.