The Long Lonely Dance with Bukowski’s Muse… Alcohol

Life becomes

more painful

with alcohol as

the poetic muse

~

So we drink

~

Loss of control

or perhaps it’s

a complete

lack of care

~

Yet we drink

~

Consuming blindly

to the point of

a derangement

of the senses

~

And we drink

~

In our youth

as mad children

we write

and are despised

~

So we drink

~

As we mature

continually writing

still looked

down upon

~

Yet we drink

~

Having grown old

we are judged as

being a waste of

a god given talent

~

And we drink

~

-Apparently-

-quite ironically-

-the talent we seem-

-to not waste-

-is a gift-

-which keeps on giving-

-an ability to-

-heavily-

-imbibe alcohol-

~

So we drink