~The Drink~

when underneath have we lied so long
the base of the soul where there's no song
but only the tapping of boots stomping drink
the grumbling, the mumbling, the humidity and stink

what drink what drink what drink
the dirt and wine, the boards, the drink

a soul is a house of perverse things
enter the clowns, the magicians and kings
all chug, all glug and brood and swear
groping the dress of a maiden so fair

what drink what drink what drink
the spit and sweat spewed dusty drink

affable stranger tells you a tale
and about his eyes, a face so pale
like underneath is a drowning child
convulsing in sickness like a beast of the wild

what drink what drink what drink
wretched consuming, sickening drink

what drink what drink what drink

the rains and dew, the morning breeze
with the clean smell of lonely seas
and in rough cups of hardened clay
the dry, putrid taste of yesterday

the drink the drink the drink
metal clashes with a clank and a clink
and passes around that terrible drink

This poem was disgusting but was in my head and had to get out!

Not disgusting,,, I have read it three times and Was trying to think of a reply to give it justice,, Yet I have pondered so,, so I shall sit and Bask in the writings of your soul,,

Hugs to you

Another great write! Keep in mind that there are a lot of souls like this in this world, once the facade and masks have been stripped away. This kind of reminds me of my past and sometimes still, who I am.

That is it exactly. We've all had fairly sorted pasts. Nobody escapes that! So everyone gets a mask; at least one. Sometimes looking out at the world we can still recognize that soul sickness all around us.

I wanted to portray it as strangers in my home doing strange things (not specific).

That was the observers feeling I wanted to convey at any rate.

Thank you again so much for reading! I really appreciate the insight!

You're welcome ronin. I felt that you have conveyed the feeling very well. I enjoy reading writes such as this.