Death winks at the
lilies that smile in
the rain.
He takes her.
The last dirty trick.
Watered drinks and
syphilis doesn't do the
patrons any good.
Too much grief for
placebos and madness.
Relief must come.
Booze and fantasy just
bring sickness, and
licking frogs is
out of the question.
Pipe dreams ease the pain
if you smoke them slowly.
Watch the blue ghost curl
into the feeling fan.
This saloon is home for the
iceman.
So, buy me another drink,
and we can think about
doing it all
tomorrow.
Isn't that right, Mr. O'Neil?
-
Author:
Thomas W Case (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: April 13th, 2025 17:30
- Comment from author about the poem: My latest books, Seedy Town Blues Collected Poems and It's Just a Hop, Skip, and Jump to the Madhouse, are available on Amazon.com www.thomaswcase.com
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 36
- Users favorite of this poem: Tristan Robert Lange, Poetic Licence, Cheeky Missy
Offline)
Comments5
Gritty and raw this poem speaks to the common man. Nicely written Thomas
Thanks.
This poem hits raw and real. A wonderful write, Thomas!
Thank you.
You are most welcome.
Good write 🙏🏻🕊️
I appreciate it.
Very raw and very real write straight to the point of man, wonderful write
Thank you.
You are very welcome
This seems loaded with references and inferences which elude me presently, the details and imagery ghastly and macabre as befits the choice circumstances. Excellently rendered with a fitly haunting poignancy.
Thank you. I appreciate it.
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