Poetry is surely the finest wine
Its words most lavish *****
You get drunk with every line
By the end all sense you lose!

There’s no wine to cast more spell
Whiskey ***** gin or ***
So long in it your thoughts dwell
Soul suffers blessed delirium!

Ecstatic is the poetry’s fizz
The froth at the mouth of nib
Gushing out of passion unleashed
The kick with each falling drip!

Poetry is among the best antidotes
When I crave a drink or two
I inject its overwhelming shots
Pains melt to moistened dew!

Poetry is a quirk of the soul
A seamless song of connections
Where the word rules its truth
And  its spirit encounters you

We're still kids,
Don't you see?
I'm still sitting on the staircase,
Listening to you scream,
Waiting until it's safe to fall asleep.

My life has turned into moments on the staircase,
Heart tense,
Hands over my ears,
Biting back tears,
Wanting it to end.

Laying here on the cusp of sleep
I am visited by visions of the young man I once was
What happened to that beautiful boy?
I miss that overwhelming positivity
the naive idealism
the undying spirituality
he was fearless in many ways
I am not that old but that boy is
a million miles away
and all that's left is me
in my body's shell that has gone hard and stale.  
I could learn from his example
But I survive better now...

Careful, careful now
Step lively and often
Beware because
Crave
Is awfully close
to craven