ONE FOR THE BAR
Behold, the revered brotherhood of renowned drunks,
We are gathered here to laugh at humorless jokes.
A cloud of tobacco smoke forms over this sanctuary,
Tonight, the heaven cries a liquor rain. Heat pours like a river sans rest,
The beer is half spittle, half bartender’s sweat.
Our cups runneth over, my purse bleeds clean,
I can no longer pay for these liquid sins.
The demon in my bottle cracks another joke,
Humors from hell convoke.
‘When the devil whispers ‘son, find your way home’,
The floor gets closer, the earth begins to grow.
A foot bears semblance to a mile,
The gutters assume the breath of Nile.’
Poem © Dejido Bejide
Image by tim striker from Pixabay (modified)