As Symbolist Poet Paul Verlaine noted about writing, other than Poetry: All else is merely literature!
The bulk of this poem is not new, per se. It was written today, but the idea of it developed last summer. I used to drink just so I would black-out. I never knew what the outcome would be. I wanted to lose control. Sometimes it was beautifully philosophical. Sometimes it was ugly and monstrous. Always it was dangerous and daring. The Philosopher commands us: Live Dangerously! Build your city at the foot of Vesuvius! Amor Fati!
You must remember: when you lose your conscious mind, something else still ticks. You still act. Do you trust your deepest inner self enough to ravage the walls of inhibition? When the flood-gates are open, nothing can stand in your way. Who are you? Do you like the person, or would you throw them away? How much do you trust yourself?
Bourbon Savior
The Spirit is fonder of whisky
Tho it ravages the Body
After a night of hard drinking,
I wake-up the next morning
Feeling like
I wake-up the next morning
Feeling like
I’ve been baptized.
All my woes were devoured
By the black-hole
During my black-out
What did I do
To feel so clean and relieved?
I was pressurized w/ guilt and strife
Before I took my first drink.
Now, I’m emptied-out.
Who bore the brunt of fiery words
Spewing from my Faustus-mouth?
A misunderstanding, no doubt.
The tygers of wrath are too wise for those clowns
Who make their bed and lie in shit
Because they’re afraid of the government.
Don’t wait for help.
Save yourself.
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