Poems About Alcoholism - Alcoholism Poems - Poetry By An Ex- Alcoholic

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My Darling Alcohol

You are my weekend

My Monday morning,

You are my blessing

And my curse.

You are my rapist

My concubine,

You are my solution

And my problem.

You are my sweet dream

My ‘delicious slumber’,

You are my nightmare

And my deliverance.

You are my alibi

My excuse,

You are my agony

And my ecstasy.

You are my fear –

My courage.

You beat me with your fists

But caress my bloodied cheek.

I thirst for you still

My darling alcohol.

Crying

I’m crying in the rain.

The falling raindrops veil my pain,

Cascading rivers, cold wet shivers –

Alone on a bench in the park.

Isolated frightened –

Should I open a vein?

A vulnerable pawn in a losing game.

Salty tears bleed wet my cuff,

Drinking far too much

But never enough.

Headlamps twinkle through

Half shut eyes –

A drunken kaleidoscope

Of perpetual lies.

So what of the blanket that

Shrouds my soul?

Is to douse my flame its only goal?

A date rape demon

Dressed as liquor –

A glass bottle shotgun

With me on the trigger.

As I drink from my chalice

Of pseudo reprieve –

Of twisted Communion again I receive.

Man in the Mirror

Who’s that man in the mirror

Looking back with a frown?

Who’s that man in the mirror

Crying tears of a clown?

Who’s that man in the mirror

With eyes full of fear?

A man spiralling downward

With every spilt tear.

Who’s that man in the mirror

With fatigued bloodshot eyes?

Who’s that lonely fellow

With the unconvincing disguise?

Who’s that stranger?

That victim of tragic abundance?

Where’s the man that would prevail and

Never again falter?

Kneeling once again at his

Porcelain Alter.

Whose is that image of

self-loathing staring back at me?

A man gifted with vision

That can’t even see.

Who’s that man in the mirror

Standing broken and defeated?

Cursing the hand he was dealt

Cause' he’s sure he was cheated.

So tell me please…

Who is that man in the mirror

Before me I see?

Oh how sobering the realisation that…

The man in the mirror was me.

Killing

Why am I killing?

Who am I killing?

Why myself of course,

I’m dying from the inside out.

My heart sinks,

My liver bleeds,

A never ending nightmare

Only I can see.

Where have I gone?

I’m in a glass bottle prison –

Get me out.

Jack Daniels told me he loved me but

That was a lie.

He’s taken everything from me and

Given no reason why.

I am in here.

My swollen fists batter the inside

Of this bottle.

I can see out but they can’t see in.

If there’s a God above

Then there’s something I’d love –

Take off these chains,

The harness and reigns.

Or am I to be encased forever

In my transparent tomb?

Just put me back in mummy’s womb.

Last Man Standing

My head swims.

I’m the last man standing.

People see me sitting here

But they don’t understand how I hate them.

Fishing boats and jetties

Catalyse my twisted impulses,

Just two more feet -

And I’ll breathe the quiet lonely water.

I run away from me.

Only to find myself and I,

Standing waiting when I get there.

There is no escape.

Poison in my gut burns – blurring my vision,

People all around but there’s only me.

Has it not occurred to them that

I’m the last man standing?

Choking on morbid thoughts

I lose perspective.

Dizzy with dislocation.

“16 persons only on the upper deck of the May Princess”

Anstruther loathes me.

I spoil her candy floss gloss

And threaten her quaint normality.

I’ve been here before.

But like a virgin raped on Groundhog Day –

I’m defiled for the first time again.

Pulling up my pants – I run, wearing only one shoe,

Wiping blood from my nose.

My feet stick to the ground

And everyone sees me naked.

On a knife edge I cling to balance –

Hoping I don’t have the courage.

Soul Sickness

Emptiness swirls around

My doughnut belly –

The wind blows clean through.

My lacerated skin

Weeps crimson tears –

Delivering a sublime aesthetic pleasure.

Existential dread

Ulcerates my mind –

Paralysing me with nausea.

Duality of thought

Persists without let –

Leaving only naked confusion.

Running Man

Without answers

My skin wet with fear –

I run the human race.

Bruised by failure and

Haunted by naked dreams –

I run.

Dominated by confusion –

I run for my life.

I think therefore I run.

Blisters of insecurity

Stagger my impetus and

Stifle my ambition.

I’m running still.

Event Horizon

Moving mountains with speed of thought

Answers many I’ve always sought,

Transcending Galaxies at the blink of an eye

My finite mind can but try.

At 4am I sit and ponder…

What lies beyond that great black yonder,

While hiding inside some pitch black hole

Satan waits to steal my soul.

Lonely Planet

Fingers withered by leprosy,

Without eyes he smells only passing shadows.

The syntax of the slums defined in his matted hair,

His bound toeless feet suppurate – attracting only flies.

(New Delhi 2000)

78 Dunard Street

Hopscotch on the pavement

Skipping ropes and pogo sticks,

Frozen Jubilees, roller boots and backies on Choppers.

Echoes of “Nana come to the window”.

Clackers and sannys

Thrown over telephone wires and

Jeellie pieces dropped from first floor windows

Inside bread bags.

Two pence for the penny tray at Doc’s

And summer days so hot the tarmac would melt.

Christmas presents in pillowcases –

And an orange rubber nozzle on our water tap.

Paraffin heaters, pulleys and 'Pokey Hats' From Jaconelli’s.

Cartoons on the projector at Mr Crawford’s and

Baths by the steamed up sash windows

In the kitchen sink.

Penny Blacks, snake belts and pinstripe trousers.

Climbing the school railings and

Playing Rounders in the street,

Chap door runaway hide ‘n’ seek and mud pies.

Bagpuss, Trumpton and Fingerbobs –

All in glorious black and white.

Mars & Saturn or charades if it rained and

Crepes with icing sugar and syrup before bed.

Watercolour memories.

Last Orders

Nosebleeds in the morning

Sweating, boking and shaking.

Recurring nightmares and

Petrifying sleep paralysis.

Fear of fear

Real fear – terror.

Hallucinations – red crabs and whispers,

With unbearable physical need.

Thoughts travelling at infinite velocity –

Bruises and blood.

A waking coma of unimaginable loneliness and

Overwhelming self-hatred.

Delirium Tremens, overdose and seizures.

Lying, stealing, cheating and begging.

Swollen fists, slashed wrists and wet beds.

Jail cells at Maryhill or Barlinnie and

Police by my hospital bed 24/7.

Ambulances, high rise flats and

Licensed grocers.

Paper pyjamas and IV drips – NIL BY MOUTH.

Panic attacks and pacing in agony

'Til 8am – unable to eat or sleep.

TIME GENTLEMEN PLEASE.

Wonderland

Morris dancers in the square

With venom breasts and crimson hair,

Steal my sunshine with subtle stealth

And bend my mind with promised wealth.

Two blind mice pull a golden carriage

They cannot speak but talk of marriage,

One dreams of settling by the sea

Beguiling tourists with tales of three.

The jester dances all alone

The king quaffs Beaujolais on his throne,

They all sing hymns at half past three

And lament my passing sanity.

Popular myths are bought and sold

With virgin’s souls and coins of gold,

Two harlequins play a one man band

And wait for me in wonderland.

Windows

Gazing out through

Windows see -

My salad day's soliloquy.

Wondering why

Through windows eye -

Can see myself in passers by.

I stand and watch

As windows change -

A million and one

People strange.

Behind windows

I hide from me -

And the melting pot cacophony.

The Dreamer

I dream of days of summer hue

I dream of meadows with flowers blue,

I dream of sunbeams upon my face

I dream of butterflies given chase.

I dream of a place I’ve never been

Of the crystal waters in the meandering stream,

I drink the sunshine from the afternoon air

Surrender your thoughts I’ll take you there.

I dream of an Oak tree offering shade

And of a decadent picnic there – that’s never been made,

A sweet summer chorus descends from the skies

Fades off into the distance when I open my eyes.

Beyond the horizon I cast a glance

Where my heart can sing and my soul can dance,

So when I close my eyes I can drift away

To the land of the dreamer – where I’m King for a day.

Robyn

When I was saying my prayers last night

I asked my God to shed some light…

I asked my God to tell me why

Did little Robyn never fly?

I said ‘Dear God she could have been…

A doctor, a lawyer, a beauty queen’

But with infinite wisdom came this reply

‘My child – yours is not to reason why’

‘You say little Robyn never flew…

Alas my child that’s just not true’

‘In the arms of Jesus she came to me…

I gave her wings and set her free’.

Analyse This

Library books leather bound

Two fat ladies short and round,

Lily pads with hearts of fire

A Rabid dog an English squire.

Wide rimmed spectacles on her face

A cyanide fist clothed in lace,

Sorrows sought with yellow teeth

The lollipop man the common thief.

Tomorrow’s cancelled bring on the clowns

Stolen smiles with matching frowns,

Walking wounded heroes all,

For Queen and country take the fall.

Wedding dresses in the lost and found

The rotting flesh on sacred ground,

Razor blades cut free the pain

A seaside suicide once again.

A grotesque picture of innocence defiled

By serpent’s tongue from Hell beguiled,

When sanity left she blew a kiss

Of things I’ve lost it’s her I miss.

Pretty flowers and children’s laughter

Promises reneged on – the morning after,

The man with no legs drags his fists

And asked me to ask you to analyse this.

Broadford Blues

I sing a song of Broadford blues

As I walk the corridor in my Broadford shoes,

I sing a song of tears I’ve shed

Each its own name and made of lead.

I feel the pain and hurt so bad

Of every scar I’ve ever had,

Of every dream I’ve ever dreamt

And every suicide attempt.

I lament these days of long lost dreams

Of stolen promises and Prozac screams,

I watch as those pace back and forth

Walking south but heading north.

My Broadford blues scratch at my soul

My scabs collect in the Broadford bowl,

Broadford days and Broadford nights

Merge concurrently – as well they might.

I mock not Broadford – don’t get me wrong

For Broadford helpeth make me strong,

So call me no ingrate or hypocrite

I’ve no glass head and that’s just it.

As I introspect down Broadford’s way

There is just one thing I’d like to say…

If all Broadford’s problems lay upon the floor

I’d pick up my own and run for the door.

For there are always those worse off than thee

Some know not dream from reality,

I connect then with my Broadford blues -

Standing firmly in my Broadford shoes.

Grateful for that I say this to you…

Judge Broadford’s not - it could be you.

So I cross Broadford’s bridge I’ve paid my toll

And pray tomorrow’s sun riseth in my soul.

Depression

I taste you in my mouth

You ooze from my pores as boils,

Lining my hair with grease

You force me to withdraw.

You turn the sun black -

Stealing my appetite,

You collect under my nails

Invading me with confusion.

You savage my equilibrium

Tearing at my confidence,

Sleeping your way into my soul

You drown me in darkness.

Your putrid breath

Precipitates on my face

But like a sex crime victim

I say nothing.

Apology

Please accept this poem

As going some way on my part,

For all the pain and heartache

I’ve caused you from the start.

For all the broken promises and

Embarrassments in the past

And all the times I’ve said to you –

‘That one was my last’.

I know you know I’m not bad

Just bad things I have done,

But you see I was a sick man

Not a genuinely bad one.

So what this poem really asks of you

Is forgiveness from you please

And to beg you – just love the person

But hate this filthy disease.

Surrender to Win

The irony of this paradox

Which baffles us all,

Allows persons once broken

To once again stand tall.

So please if you’re hurting

Put aside your false pride,

And surrender to win

For God’s by your side.

Nothing

No sun no moon

No “Merry linnet’s tune”.

No life no death

No small planet chocking for breath.

No love no hate

No developing countries underweight.

No vigil no ceremony

No more litigation no more acrimony.

No Straight no Gay

No moral fabric slipping away,

No water no fire

No more rainforests on the funeral pyre.

No peace no war

No more clutching at straws,

No fiction no fact

No more arms showing tracks.

No black no white

No “Tiny pinholes in the curtain of night”.

No intoxication no sobriety

No more transfusions for a terminal society.

No smiles no tears

No more real or imagined fears,

No mediocrity no serendipity

No more contempt or mingled pity.

No Heaven no Hell

No more dive bombing T cells,

No periphery no epicentre

No more politicians in stockings and suspenders.

No affluence no poverty

No more pseudo intellectual philosophy.

No more lamentable relationships

We know we’ve outgrown – NOTHING.

(Not even this poem)

Drunk Dream

Consumed with humiliation

Through virtual relapse

Is it live or is it Memorex®.

I revisit debauchery

And taste again insanity,

A reality parallel – tangible vivid.

Remorseful and disorientated

I awake –

Air stabbing at my lungs.

Nauseated by quasi enjoyment -

My phantom hangover lingers long.

Knitting Michelle

A little secret that’s mine to tell

Is thinking I’d have to knit Michelle,

I thought I’d have to knit her eyes

And purl two the right cup size.

Taking care not to drop a stitch

I’d knit a girl devoid of glitch,

Casting on plain stitches three

I’d knit Michelle just perfectly.

I’d avail myself of gold spun yarn

With many freckles for to darn,

Two slipstitches make sure she’d be

Of uncommon class and quality.

A difficult task this as I don’t knit

Though imply as much with poetic wit,

But if I could this much is true…

The girl I’d knit would be just like you.

The Wishing Tree

I wish for you strength of mind and

On your journey treasures find,

I wish for you a lullaby and

Rows of shoulders when you cry.

I wish for you a cloak of love

Of patchwork pieces from above,

And pray that you may come to see

That life’s best things are given free.

Poems on Alcoholism - Alcoholism Poems - Poems About Alcoholism - Ex-Alcoholic Poetry - Alcoholics Poetry - Poems About Drug Addiction / Drug Addicts - Poems About Self Harm / Self Injury / Self Harming / SI - Poems About Depression / Being Depressed - Poems About Jesus / Jesus Christ Poems - Christian Poetry / Christian Poems - Poems About Suicide / Suicidal Thoughts / Suicide Attempts.

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