O how the world comes more transparent

As the level in the bottle falls;

One’s genius becomes much more apparent

When the floor weaves with the walls.


The amber nectar resting on the table

Awaits a searching reaching hand;

A savouring sip of lip as smooth as sable,

Or golden skin upon the sand.


The wailing woes of life just sink and vanish,

Within the realm of liquid light;

Caution’s prudent road you simply banish,

Perhaps in song or foolish fight!


Then slumber spreads its gentle mantle,

As oblivion dulls your fading eye;

Only sense of purpose, the horizontal

And anywhere at all to lie.


Awareness left to rove the other sphere,

Unhindered by the body gone;

Floating far and wide but ever near,

To join the trauma of the dawn.


A pounding head with unsteady gait,

Normality your only need;

The throbbing that does not abate,

Result of whiskey, ale or mead.


Relief! Sobering sobbing poignant plea;

No thought of being jolly;

Head bowed in hands; nowhere to flee;

The gremlins of your folly.


Monty Alexander 1.1.04

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