Mephitic Fool

Mephitic fool

On barfly stool

Swills his fifth of bourbon.

 

He sounds the alarm

Falls and fractures his arm

Now he needs a surgeon.

 

In a sling his arm hangs

Ivory cast helps the pangs

But not his inimical perversion.

 

Bartenders threshold was met

Exhaling vapor of cigarette

By poison now he’s unburdened.

 

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

 

Prompt: Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie – Wordle Week #24

Mindlovemisery's Menagerie - Wordle Week #24

Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie – Wordle Week #24

Drinking Dulls The Pain

Drinking dulls the pain,

Feeding the same worn excuse,

Permitting abuse,

Damaging family and friends,

Leaving no external scars.

Yet wounds just as real

Bleed, becoming infected,

Contagious with time,

Perpetuating sickness

For generations to come.

.

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

Make it a Double

Smell of cigarettes,

Stale beer stains,

Threadbare carpet,

Old men,

Hunched over mahogany,

Varnish long faded,

Years of harsh use,

Stained glass,

Discolored by smokey haze,

Dirty ashtrays,

Artwork for the nicotine addicted,

Spilled whiskey,

Tears,

Young men,

Worn beyond their years,

Chasing elder dreams,

Following their path,

Door to stool and back,

Work feeds addiction,

Paycheck to paycheck,

All to payoff the devil,

Memories of yesterday,

Expunged by today,

Innocuous when numb,

Hey bartender…

Make it a double!

 

~~ D. R. DiFrancesco ~~

A Tragedy Hits Home

By D. R. DiFrancesco

Crass and cranky,
Scarcely a kind word to anyone,
Including himself,

Bitter and hateful,
Blaming everyone for his shortcomings,
Except for himself,

The family,
The job,
Restraining him from achieving success.

Never without a glass,
Always a glass of amber in hand,
Served to enhance his misery.

Another drink,
“I’ll have just one more”, he would say,
The one we called Jekyll and Hyde.

The children loved him,
But children didn’t like him,
Too scared and too young to confront.

A wife living for better or worse,,
Traumatized into silence,
Who would he be when he came home at night?

A frustrated virtuoso,
Sculpture, oils, watercolors, pastels,
So much talent needlessly thrown away.

On a stormy day all was lost,
His family, his art and his life,
Sadness in a bottle his solitary friend.

Did the Lord,
Or did his demons call him home,
A mystery until we join our maker,

Destructive and demoralizing,
Living under bourbons shadow,
Souls touched that will never be healed.