Best Sobered Poems

There was a naughty boy
And a naughty boy was he,
For nothing he would do
But create misery
He was such a naughty boy
They threw away the key
He...

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The sweet bells hung upon the soft woven air
The streams in recite and the cold plucked tear
From your pure brown eyes, softly as you wept
As...

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The dark wood is breathing blue,

   and sense do I the sweet sound

   of larks and their legendary love,

  ...

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I blame me brother for the likes of this predicament,
when we pub crawled up to Bunyip, and where our night was spent.
Thank God I wasn’t...

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I'm silk-fire, curled in emblazoned quartz horizons,
Of aurous equator, rising in smoke as a secular bird, 
From own fossil-ashes, flying to distant honey-shores, scarlet spun,...

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At the last supper He declared,
"One of you is my betrayer".
They questioned Him and each  denied
Then all joined in song and prayer.
Mount Olive was...

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I lost another friend, who was riding the alcohol train.
Little did I know, that he was in so much mental pain.
He kept it hidden well,...

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Last night, the doors of dark entrapped me
Capricious sun, perhaps he's napping
Deliberately he comes and goes,
with wily ways, I know so well

Sometimes he stays an...

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He comes again this year
With him my buried relatives
I welcome them with warm feelings
All day everyday for a month or more
Uncertain confusing it will be...

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There you are again out making your loud noise
Who do you think you are? You think you’re a big star?
Driving your beat out pimp car...

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THINKING OF YOU

I saw you before walking slow in the aisle
clothed in peach and wearing a godlike smile
Your grace like the empress of Greece and...

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Last night, I slept again with anger.
This morn, my hurt held your pillow.

Gone, have you trip-sobered a thought for me,
or our heart’s cracked carousel,
poorly operated?

I...

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hello little school girl
how do you do
travis says he loves you
think I could love you too
you look very healthy
all sobered up
maybe you need an older...

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At the "Head Inn' Bar,
I sat with Death.
Drinking the fog,
With my poor-man's "Crown"
Earlyer, In mood,
I called him over, telling
"It can wait, grab a drink".
Quite in...

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Outside the city where the pomegranates grow,
hunching broad shoulders, when the north winds blows
Winter rust is over, and the leaves are turning green
Sunlight filters through...

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