Let not my lack of sorrow, be a sorrow,
Let my drunken stupidity meet its defeat,
And let me sense, that the sense about drinking,
Sprung tonight, from not wanting a repeat..
Of all woes previously encountered,
Or of the mistaking foes and friends.
A fallacy- if ever forgiven,
May still be beyond ammends.
It maybe that...
Or who knows..
Tomorrow might be unrelated,
To all past events and morrows,
Tomorrow might demand fresh thinking
From the uncertainty of tomorrows!
But if tomorrow forgets where I was,
If tomorrow dares to forget today’s ‘me’
Then tomorrow must try to explain this,
And this gives life to thee,
This sets my soul free,
From the dark clutches of oblivion…
Had some Smirnoff,
To take the edge off,
But life must go on…
For my heart fancies,
No more fallacies,
Than those that were once drunken.
And I shall want the truth,
And I shall claim the truth,
For it and beauty are the same,
And poetry lies not
in careful concealment,
But in the openness of interpretation…
Yes, I drink alone…
My victories I bear in public eyes,
But my woes are my very own,
My erring, for none to despise…