I wrote this poem some years ago had it had done very well in a literary competition that I had entered. I hope it does not come in conflict with the rules of the forum but just wanted to share it with you.
THE WINE OF BACCHACUS
(An Insane Paradox)
The wine of bacchacus, is an insane paradox,
as sly and as cunning, as the proverbial fox.
It starts with one drink, and ending with many,
a fortune is lost, you're left with no money.
This will dictate, on what you will do,
despite all logic, you'll chase this old brew.
You drink to be social, and to try and fit in,
after a time, you'll commit a great sin.
In a drunken state, you make a fool of yourself,
deciding to put it, back on the shelf.
The very next day, with guilt and remorse,
you return to bacchacus, as a resource.
This vulnerable victim, does not understand,
the depths this will take you, or where you will land.
It may be gaol, or even the grave,
to continue to drink, is for only the brave.
You drink to escape, your reality and woes,
your outrageous conduct, will make a few foes.
Will never give in, or never confide,
this runs against, your ego and pride.
Constantly bound, to a selfish resolve,
reason the truth, and half truths are told.
Treason occurs, when you went for a few,
the following day, you woke black and blue.
As resentment builds, and begins to fester,
your troubled mind, it will start to pester.
Trying to justify, for why you so drink,
your sanity tested, as you're pushed to the brink.
For many years, you'll see mental health,
until you are honest, no spiritual wealth.
Unknown the true nature, of this malady,
a disease that's connected, genetically.
Gone is the family, the friends and the job,
the crime of bacchacus, is to continue to rob.
You'll frantically chase, that illusive good time,
until there's no hope, and you're labeled a swine.
You drink cause you're happy, you drink cause you're blue,
you drink cause you win, you drink cause you lose.
You drink cause you're glad, you drink cause you're bad,
such is the paradox, of being so mad.
Fi
xxx
Isn't that the truth,,, wonderful poem....
yeah these paradoxes are the most baffling thing. I drank because I wanted to party and yet it caused so much misery in the end. I didn't want to live and yet I didn't want to die. I didn't want to drink and yet I didn't dare not drink. I resented others for the small achievements in life but was too fearful to take the necessary steps to achieve my own successes. the list goes on.
Fi
xxx
Fi
xxx
Did you guys ever do this...I'd say "I'm gonna party tonight" and my sister would say: "Geri, it's not a party when it's you in your bedroom drinking and doing coke by yourself...." ~ it took me until I got sober to realize that!
amen to that one, I too partied in my room. When I wasn't and I was in a pub somewhere I was always fantasising that I was somewhere else with someone else doing something else. My concept of party was being legless and half passed out from a gut full of alcohol. The next day when I woke up and realised what I did the night before or what I said, or I noted the amount of bruising that was all over my body I would think to myself "wow that was a blast." Some party eh! Ironically enough there would be deep seated self hate but I would never acknowledge it and drink further to supress it. thats me
Fi
xxx
Fi
xxx
Fi, I can totally identify with your post...I,too, would wake up with bruises and gnarly cuts and stuff, and couldn't remember how it happened....so scary, I tend to forget about those things......
