poem by: Greg Woods
Written on Dec 30, 2013

Some alcoholics have very strange ideas,
twisted and distorted from too many beers.
Always meaning well with a drunken sort of respect,
the main priority - the price of grog, 
and from their loved ones often defect.

Worried about the drunken ones, who fall by the way,
realising their turn will come along one day.

Broken bones, bruises, sores and disordered blood,
dead cells, diseases, malnutrition, the tears flood.
Bogeymen, bullymen, publican too,
sickness, hangover, diarrhoea and spew.
Accidents, violence, abuse and pain,
sunken eyes, swollen gut, sleeping in the rain.

Loveless sex, packet of Bex, 
cigarettes and dope.
Friendless friends - drunken rules,
a glimmering of hope.
Neglected kids, on the skids, education gone,
empty fridge, tall bridge, get drunk and sing a song.

Are you an alcoholic? - or have you done your best.
Will you leave behind no heartache,
when they lay you down to rest.
Or have you already rested,
before you reach the grave?
Taking much more than you ever really gave.

Is it too late now,
for you to try and stop?
Have you raised a generation,
to idolise the drop?
Have the little babies now grown,
and guzzle on the grog?
Do they get drunk,
and treat you like an old mongrel dog?

- - - Well, some alcoholics have many strange ideas,
twisted and distorted from too many beers.- - -



Tags: hope,

Add Comment

Peter Duggan commented:
Greg, you are a great writer. I really enjoy your poems. Yes I have been a big drinker too, as well as a choofer of the wacky baccy. Don't do none of it any more. Keep writing my friend
Georgina Richardson commented:
Hi Greg, I`m new to the site so I`m still learning!! This piece is really well written and so well thought through. An enjoyable read about a very common problem.Well done. G x


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