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The Alcoholic
The Alcoholic
Parley poem
Lionel Derbyshire
Dirty dufflecoat wino
Zigzag up the street
Wobble wobble..
And half past puzzled
Seems like form
Has left his body
His odour sour
Orphaned at eight
He explained
Never had a chance
Of a lifetime
I am just the formation
Of Adam's forlorn throne
I the antonym of pleasant
Eat my dinner
On the floor
Without gravy
No one ever
Belled out a word
Of good for me
Before I left home
They warmed my hands
On the stove and called me
The Bastard in the house
And it was sore
Sensitively he said.
What do you have?
I only have lonely
Never ever heard
I love you
What do you want?
Just cheer from a
Dumb bartender
What do you fear?
The confrontations in
My nightmares
Pardon me..
I am bitter.
Never had a chance
To be a revelant Joe
Just a parched alcoholic
Dry in overtime captivity.
I tang of dispair.
I have a little gravity
Now just heavy
To hoist..
And a will which wants me
To not
He told me beaming his blue eyes
About his lot.
And then he sang
Amazing Grace..
Copyright ©
Lionel Derbyshire
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