Posted in life, New Work, Poetry

Buzzed Whimsy (Liquor)

In all honesty,
I can’t handle
my liquor –

Even in pure consciousness
as clouded understanding
grows thicker…

There are no meatballs
in these forecasts;
Even substantial chunks of logic
haul themselves up
at half-mast.

Laughter resonates,
fuel for thought pilots
of hopeless bombast.

Free as finality,
so they say,
free at last,
bright as the day.

And I…
Release all
that’s not worthwhile –
even admittedly, I smile
much less ;
anyway, smiles don’t last…


Not in wherewithal.

I do my best
but only because
someone has to heed the(se) lessons
of gratitude, humility –

Ignorance of bliss.

Found my humanity
on predestined crash course –

And…I like my highness
without a horse,

More so than I do
the buzzed whimsy
of lonesome remorse.

Author:

35. Wife and mom of 3. Writer. Zentrovert. Aspiring Engineer. Resident Badass.

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