The smoke lingers
up by the ceiling
changing colours
green, yellow, and red

I'm lost in it's sway
it almost reminds me
of birds in flight
or leaves in a zephyr

But then I remember
that all these thoughts
are just ***** and awful
poetic images.

He had dreams
of glory
that would forever
be unfulfilled

He had two feet
that drug
across the road
that never ended

He had two eyes
that scanned
for signs of life
that didn't exist

He had life

It ended.

Like all things
it all begins
from the beginning
and like most things
it never progresses.

Let them remember
the important days
of how old they were
When Dr. Who came out

Only these men
can connect the irrelevant
with who we were at war with.

The beer trickles down
my throat
and begins to warm
my soul

I begin to forget
what it was
that I was meant
to do

Pure bliss becomes me
and only leaves me
when people start talking
again.