Poetry

[Pride before Fall]

Limbo: Altered States [adapted]

I don?t miss drinking, don?t miss
driving into shit with more molecular density
than myself, nor the Mission Impossible
reruns I sat before, nor the dead
space inside only alcohol could fill and then
not even. But I miss

How little I asked of myself then?-to suck
the next breath, suffer the next heave, live
till cocktail hour when I could mix
the next sickness.

I locked the bathroom door, sat
on the closed commode, shirtless,
in filmy underpants telling myself that death
could fit my grasp and be staved off
while in the smeary shaving glass,
I practiced the stillness of a soul
awaiting birth.

For the real that swarmed beyond the door
I was pure scorn, dead center of my stone and starless
universe, orbited by no one. Novitiate obliterate, Saint
Absence, Duchess of Naught . . .
A stinging ether folded me in mist.

When my plane tilts down, houses grow large, streets
lose their clear geometry. The leafy earth soon fills my portal,
and in the gray graveyard of cars, a stick figure
becomes my son in royal blue cap flapping his arms
as if to rise. Thank god for our place
in this forest of forms, for the gravitas
that draws me back to him, and for how lightly
lightly I touch down.

~Mary Karr

[Topsy-Turvy-Tracy]

Poetry

Wow, that's powerful poetry. Thanks, Pride.

[techie]

Poetry

GREAT, appreciate the post Pride!

[rubywillow]

Poetry

Oh my!

[Popeye]

Poetry

Good stuff.
Thanks.

[IAD]

Poetry

The Best Days Of Your Life

Goodbye to work, you're on a high - it's the best day of your life!
You gladly hand the reins over - goodbye to toil and strife.
When morning comes, you lie in bed and you look up at the ceiling -
There's no-one here to harrass you - I know just how you're feeling.

The sun shines through the window, you hear the clatter of some feet -
It's people who are off to work, you can hear them in the street.
Within you comes a warming glow - your new life just is starting.
There's cards from many work-friends who were sad at your departing.

But you must arise, get dressed and out - there's no time left to lose.
Make the most of it, the day is yours - just do exactly as you choose.
Just why should you feel guilty on the best day of your life?
"Because I said a cheerio to my poor, still working wife".

They don't forgive....belive me ! Ha!

[Pride before Fall]

Poetry

IAD, you're way too young to think about retirement! Keep dreamin'!

Here's another one on drinking.

the suicide kid
by Charles Bukowski

I went to the worst of bars
hoping to get
killed.
but all I could do was to
get drunk
again.
worse, the bar patrons even
ended up
liking me.
there I was trying to get
pushed over the dark
edge
and I ended up with
free drinks
while somewhere else
some poor
son-of-a-bitch was in a hospital
bed,
tubes sticking out all over
him
as he fought like hell
to live.
nobody would help me
die as
the drinks kept
coming,
as the next day
waited for me
with its steel clamps,
its stinking
anonymity,
its incogitant
attitude.
death doesn't always
come running
when you call
it,
not even if you
call it
from a shining
castle
or from an ocean liner
or from the best bar
on earth (or the
worst).
such impertinence
only makes the gods
hesitate and
delay.
ask me: I'm
72

[Pride before Fall]

Poetry

cravings

Alcohol
?Franz Wright

You do look a little ill.
But we can do something about that, now.
Can?t we.

The fact is you?re a shocking wreck.
Do you hear me.
You aren?t all alone.

And you could use some help today, packing in the
dark, boarding buses north, putting the seat back and
grinning, with terror flowing over your legs, through
your fingers and hair . . .

I was always waiting, always here.
Know anyone else who can say that?

My advice to you is think of her for what she is:
one more name cut in the scar of your tongue.

What was it you said? ?To rather be harmed than
harm, is not abject.?

Please.
Can we be leaving now?
We like bus trips, remember. Together
we could watch these winter fields slip past, and
never care again.

Think of it.

I don?t have to be anywhere.

[Guitarista]

Poetry

Thank's Pride.

Chuck's poem resonates with me. I hadn't read that one before.

Best wishes, G-bloke.

[Pride before Fall]

Poetry

Thanks, G, I like it too. Even more sad because he died shortly after this published.

[Doggygirl]

Poetry

Thanks for sharing these Pride.

DG

[Pride before Fall]

Poetry

A poem for Thanksgiving, by Max Coots

Let us give thanks for a bounty of people:

For children who are our second planting, and, though they grow like weeds and the wind too soon blows them away, may they forgive us our cultivation and fondly remember where their roots are.

Let us give thanks:

For generous friends?with hearts as big as hubbards and smiles as bright as their blossoms;

For feisty friends as tart as apples;

For continuous friends, who, like scallions and cucumbers, keep reminding us we had them;

For crotchety friends, as sour as rhubarb and as indestructible;

For handsome friends, who are as gorgeous as eggplants and as elegant as a row of corn ? and the others ? as plain as potatoes, and just as good for you.

For funny friends, who are as silly as brussels sprouts and as amusing as Jerusalem artichokes, and serious friends as complex as cauliflowers and as intricate as onions;

For friends as unpretentious as cabbages, as subtle as summer squash, as persistent as parsley, as delightful as dill, as endless as zucchini, and who ? like parsnips ? can be counted on to see you through the long winter;

For old friends, nodding like sunflowers in the evening-time, and young friends coming on as fast as radishes;

For loving friends, who wind around us like tendrils, and hold us despite our blights, wilts, and witherings;

And finally, for those friends now gone, like gardens past, that have been harvested ? but who fed us in their times that we might have life thereafter.

For all these we give thanks.

[Choochie]

Poetry

Thank you Pride.:l

[Pride before Fall]

Poetry

Have a good holiday, Chooch! :l