Whiskey Down


Another whiskey morning, guzzling down,
escaping hardship’s realities of the mind,
gazing upon the city with an awful frown,
a soul lost in but a captured moment of time.

An outcast of the serene, insignificant town,
held imprison but virtually feeling all is fine,
residing in the bottle, alcoholic bound,
magically trusting in the sweetness of wine.

In a disoriented state he looks around,
believing life’s not worth a single dime,
in despair and anguish his head does pound,
living alone sadly within a single rhyme.

A life shattered without so much as a sound,
while hopes and dreams blur forever blind,
threading in fermented spirits waiting to drown,
if only tenderness and love could be found.

As dark as dark, the light can still be found,
flickering compassion in a heart but oh so kind,
her warm embracing and caring nature surround,
bringing hope and acceptance so love will shine.

Passionately giving they lay upon the ground,
sweetness washes away the taste of lime,
no longer does he feel like a drunken clown,
the obscurity lifted as he merely calls her, mine.

Samuel E. Stone
Copyright© 2005, All Audiences