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Pour Me One More Round*

Each night I go from bar to bar
Instead of going home
To drink away the pain I have
Now living life alone

Inside I feel this emptyness
Thats deep down within
I try to drink away the pain
Still knowing it won't end

All these bars they look alike
And I drink more every day
Wanting just to the fill the void
Make the memories go away

The lights go down and the bars they close
So I walk around this town
The memory of you fills my heart
An empty lonesome sound

These drinks I know will never end
This pain I feel inside
It only helps me to forget
But only for the night

So please one more
Pour me one more round
Help me push these memories down
Just pour me one more round

*Carl Joseph Roberts
Okay, guys its a poem about how I thought my father handled life. He drank himself to death many years ago. This is not a poem advocating drinking. I drink very little and can count on one hand the times I've been drunk in my life and they were all in my 20s. So If you like this poem, please add it to a collection.
They dance and spin
Across the floor
Leaving marks
Everywhere they go
They don't create something beautiful
So they hide it under a sheet
Hoping no one can ever see
Their masterpiece
You were quick to calm--
To see things my way for once--
When you saw the bits.
"We are all sinners and time will come for metanoia
That pulls us back once again into the land of pleroma
A region of light where we continue to achieve gnosis
The possibility of transcendence in a spiritual phasis"
 Nov 2014 The Quiet Poet
Jerry
Without colors & contrasts,
Without whispers & softness,

Without smiles & giggles,
Without caring & sensitivity.

Without jiggles & wiggles,
Without feminine beauty.

Without women,
She's so elusive
There was once a girl
Who loved the rain
And a boy
Who loved the sun

They met one day
In the drunken moonlight
Fireflies fell from the trees
Burning out before dawn

His hands were warm
And her's were cold

They breathed in unison
Opposites
Their eyes flickering
Against the sinking sky

"You make my heart race."
He said.
"You make my heart slow."
She whispered.

The sunlight stabbed the night
And the moon fell
Out of sight
Pulling down
A thousand clouds

"Kiss me,"
He demanded.
And she did.
 Nov 2014 The Quiet Poet
Tupelo
I am trying to speak the language,
Put you somewhere on the pages,
Words that shake me all electric,
Tulips and vices, go hand and hand,
everything I was afraid to spotlight,
Painted my insides violet,
and you loved it all.
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