Why can't my liver filter thoughts like it does with alcohol?

It would save me the trouble of all the money I've spent to free myself of bad decisions,

There is so much formality within a sober moment, while my drunkenness speaks freely,

My brain doesn't erase moments like alcohol does, yet my liver puts up a fight reminding me to think,

Fantasizing over an image created by theses slurred and blurred overzealous eyes,

I am attracted to bars like teachers are to mls style, and to this day I'm still not sure which one has been more beneficial.

Looking down the road of allowing glass, I measured my state of mind to pick my poison,

Tequila adds a flower to a withering soul, ***** snuffs out the light where it gets to bold, whiskey fakes the fight with its bros, while gin loosens the bones and wine your emotions, at last we have beer a truth serum more powerful than love,

What they all take is feeling, a small price to learning what we see in the refection is really something we refuse to collude with.

My liver is always amazed, the amount of control I give to it, whilst the hand with a drink in it stays steady,

The other acquires shame, controlled by a freedom of released inhibitions,

If I could escape the safety of the dinner lights for the missing love that I thought drive me here,

My liver is alone, in the battle, like one soldier who's realized that their command center threw them into a death trap and their enemies are mindless zombies of fallen memories,

My toast is not alone, followed by smiles and condolences, significant enough to convince everyone, maybe one more.

Cats and the Office of Prime

With the dignity of an abbess the cat
Enthrones herself upon the morning fence
To welcome with due solemn liturgies
The daily rising of the given sun

Her slow lavabo accomplished, she turns
Offering the peace of Cat to the assembly:
The lesser cats, the even lesser dogs
The night-chilled lawn, the dewy leaves, the light

She blinks her blessings there upon the day

     And all is complete

When happy children then come out to play

The window is up;
sounds of rain crinkle in,
like the static in the voice
of a faraway caller.

My cats are perched,
one grey, one tabby,
listening with me, as
we stare at miniature
mudslides glaze gener-
-ations of ants, probably
clinging onto strands of
grass; waiting to become
the past.

I think of success and
what it means to me.
I look in my wallet and
count one-two-three;
one reason to like the rain;
two reasons to embrace strife;
three reasons to consume pain;
enough zeroes to choose a life
not smothered in mud, not one
where I cling onto the grass.

I dream of a dream where
my dollar bills can last.

I am a loving animal
Despite what people may think
A lot of people don't like me
I wish they would rethink

I'm just as loyal as a dog
I will always be by your side
Even when you are bored
I'll keep you occupied

Sometimes I like to be alone
It's not really a crime
I still liked to be hugged
Just not all the time

Yes I may scratch
Just like dogs may bite
It's how I protect myself
I'm sorry if I gave you a fright

I like to be well groomed
Don't worry I can do it
I'm independent
You don't have to commit

I will bring you presents
But I can only afford mice
I just want to make you happy
By doing something nice

When I am happy
I will let you know
I'll purr on your lap
It will make you glow

I tend to have a crazy half hour
I like dashing around
Did I mention my meow?
I make the cutest sound

I'm easy to aquire
I'm usually quite cheap
Look in your local animal shelter
We come in heaps

I'm really quite cute
And I need a good home
So please don't leave me
In this cage all alone

I am a cat
I will make the best pet
Just like a beloved dog
Can you give me a chance yet?

At night, smothered in darkness, it hunts
Its eyes burning like stars
Slinking through the air, searching
Soundlessly for prey.
“She is such a softee.” Esther sighs
Scooping its favourite food into a bowl.
“My baby. My furry little baby.”
Its claws sink into the wren, ripping
It apart in a cold deliberate frenzy.
Sodden bloodied feathers, slithers of skin
Like red glints in a killer’s darkening eye.
She takes the cat into her arms,
Cradling it and smothering it with kisses.
It purrs, dreaming carnivorous dreams of its owner’s dry flesh.

Come, lovely cat, lie at my breast
Cease your scratching and settle,
Into your beautiful eyes let me rest
Swirled with agate and metal.

When my fingers caress you at leisure,
Your head and your back's elasticity,
And my hand tingles with pleasure
At the spark of your electricity,

In your spirit, I see my lover’s expression
Like your own, amiable creature.
Profound and cold, leaving a deep impression.
And, from her head, across her features,

A subtle air, a musky sin
Floats about her dusky skin.

Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com

502 Bad Gateway
____________
nginx/1.1.19

Dear Friends,

This has been fun, but with the late changes I can make nothing of the HelloPoetry site.  If I can manage to submit this, please know that you can continue to read my scribblings on my own poorly-accomplished – but functional – site, Reactionary Drivel at reactionarydrivel.blogspot.com.  It’s not really reactionary, tho’ it’s often drivel!  And if you will send me the name of your site, I will follow you there.

Cheers,

Lawrence


Good-bye, Poetry?

Oh, Eliot, what has happened to your wonderful site
Your gift of poetry to a suffering world?
Did some Morlock in an unhappy hour
Break into spring to make it winter again?

Who has torn and scattered the pages
And thus obscured the words so carefully shaped
By the fugitive keepers of dreams
Who seek for them again in the wilderness?

There once was a workshop for poor scribblers –
A studio of dreams – may it be restored!



Well Done, Thou Good and Faithful Cat

for Calvin

Yes, surely there will be another cat
But not this Cat, not this Big Orange Dust-Mop
Lounging “with abs of steel and *** appeal”
At his window, hungry for hummingbirds

Or lurking there behind that door to swat
His Sarah, who served as his household staff,
For failing to render due obeisance
To him, the superior MagnifiCat

Dear Calvin –

For now, farewell, until that better World,
O happy, leaping, loving childhood friend