|What is the secret project? How can I participate?|
Name: A. P. Burkholderia
Passion: Writing poetry
An Alcoholic's Tale
It was all going bright and yellow.
God's wish it was to keep his life mellow.
Not a twist, nor a turn , not a pebble on his way ,
Hey , he doesn't complain - he loved this life I'd say.
It was calm and lull - not a worry for him to bother.
His peace and tranquility not a soul could smother.
But were things as simple as they appeared ?
Or was something sinister at work here ?
And then it demolished him - like a tidal wave :
It came crashing on to him - all the worries and the pain.
A pool of hot spirits surrounded him.
He didn't know where to go, or what hit him.
He was alone.
(Or so he thought).
And then he met a friend so unique.
He began to indulge in its charm and immersed in its keep.
Smooth. Fluid. What a fuzzy feel.
He couldn't help but abuse its properties with zeal.
It made him feel scalding pleasure in his throat.
He loved that in its company he could just let go.
What a feeling of grandeur , what a taste of panache
When it put him on any stage with a choice of sash.
He loved every bit of it.
When its love disabled his walk -
Not just his gait but also his talk.
He'd slurp and slur and how fun was the stutter
Each morning he'd wake to drink - he needed an eye opener.
When he'd dance to the rhythm of its charm -
And when others asked to cut down - he's slash their arms.
How did it matter ? This was so rewarding!
"Let me take a few scars for Ms Tequila, my darling."
But he didn't understand what he'd done.
One by one , dropped all his anchors.
No gridiron for his ship , all he had were chancres.
Not a pal to talk , not a friend to share his sorrow.
Not a person from whom anything he could borrow.
And wounds and scars from everywhere he'd trotted -
Not just on the surface , but even internally he was dotted.
That's when set in - a plague in his body.
An icteric state - a cirrhotic hue so gawdy.
He began to realise what he'd done.
He wailed and screamed and writhed in pain.
Soon he began to see floods without any rain.
Vivid dreams and hallucinations set in.
Oh boy , what a mess he was in.
He felt his jaws expand at his parotid.
And you'd think he didn't even have a carotid.
His belly rose and engulfed all the fluid it could-
But his stuporous stance never lowered its hood.
Guilt . So much guilt.
One day -
He lay there waiting for help to appear.
When he got so confused and all he did was lear.
His eyes become plegic - he couldn't fathom this at all
He couldn't walk straight or even stand tall.
His heart began to vibrate in his chest
His eyes turned around and yet he couldn't rest
His arms got numb. His head got a lump.
He flailed his arm in athetotic crests.
And in that last moment as he took a deep breath
An iridescent vision he saw - of himself and his mate :
That old goblet that broke his heart on a holiday
How he wished they'd never met , and then motionless he lay.