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