Bowing to the vodka god,
I lived like a pleasure
seeking missile, propelled
toward all things ME.
Empty as a carcass.
Hungry as a desert.
I didn't see the
strawberry moon of
summer.
It was me and the
Ferryman, until the
river ran dry.
Eternal winter for
the soul.
And then
A revolution in my
being.
A total shift in
my values and
perception.
The Creator purchased
my dilapidated heart.
He moved in and lives
there still.
My home, on the outside
might look like
a shack to some, but inside
it's a mansion with the
most sublime bread you
ever tasted.
Fruit trees in every room.
-
Author:
Thomas W Case (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: June 10th, 2025 17:07
- Comment from author about the poem: My books are all available on Amazon.com. My website is www.thomaswcase.com My latest book is Sleep Always Calls. https://www.amazon.com/Sleep-Always-Calls-Thomas-Case/dp/B0F7FS5DQB/ref=tmm
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 47
- Users favorite of this poem: Poetic Licence
Offline)
Comments8
Beautiful 'Thomas very nice
Thanks.
I'm sure the reverse is also true. A person looking good on the outside; but inside...
Good for you.
Thank you.
Dang, beautifully written
Thanks.
Beautifully written piece of poetry, enjoyed the read
Thank you.
You are very welcome
Are these fruit trees forbidden?
no. lol
Loving the new poems, brother. Nicely done.
Thank you. Much appreciated.
Well Done Brother I bowed to the vodka God myself but haven't prayed to him in five years
It's fantastic to be done with it. Thank you, brother.
The title itself is poetry ..,
Thank you, so much.
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