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Sunday, October 16, 2016

So The Series Isn't Over

Not too proud of this, but posting it anyway.

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Whiskey Man

Young man, it's closer than you remember
To the last time you liked September.
And, young man, though I don't drink,
I can be stronger than you think.
You like less meat on food and girls --
Limited spirits, spirited curls;
You like your Goddesses void of strength--
Not far too torn, nor too bent.

And old man! You've been in wars!
They came on foot, they came in cars!
You have seen your Goddess bleeding
Over a corpse, in urgent feeding;
She carried you through wind and frost
Away from battles safer lost.
She lived when you were left for dead,
She lived when you died in her bed.

And so young blood has never boiled
To see a Goddess torn and soiled!
And old blood, drained of desire,
Has learnt to think his love is higher.
Ever since, the Goddess, hidden,
Has watched herself become forbidden.
But say, old man, when she's not there,
Whiskey will take you anywhere.
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