October 27, 2004
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Blood and Whiskey
(An Alcoholic’s Lullaby)
Just a swirling drop or two
Crimson color in the liquor’s hue
Salty flavor in its bitter bite
This combination tasted right
Just like the bar stool I sit on
Drinking shots of borrowed time
Just like the life I let flow away
Drip, drip… forget about another day
Blood and whiskey
Mix together just like
Pain and consequence
Like tears and sacrifice
Such a wondrous golden amber
I love and hate you all at once
Promising a tender warm embrace
I run to and from you every day
Well remembered inner glow
Revealing mysteries I know
But the price I paid for you is blood
And you want every drop I have
Blood and whiskey
Intoxicating in its innocence
Might seem immortal in a sense
Laden with its deadly consequence
Blood and whiskey
Mix together just like
Pain and consequence
Like tears and sacrifice
Blood and whiskey
Mix together every time
Drinkin’ blood and whiskey
Always suited me just fine
Comments (11)
that goes down smooth…
hmmm what if one does not drink…Blood and Pity
I love this …It is deep and undoubtly it is something you have experienced in a sense…
Issues…ghost…baggage…
life…we all got somthin baby!
Hey there.thanks for popping in on my site.and yes, lisa is my sister….:)
I really like the line that says:
“Blood and whiskey mix together just like pain and consequence”
she whispers*thank you*
“I love and hate you all at once.” What a wonderful line.
mmm, I think I like the new poem better.
You’ve grown a lot. I’ve never drank in my life, but reading your stuff makes me think about the emotion of drinking. Funny phrase… emotion of drinking… what a crazy world this is.
You can tell TorrHarr and I are sister’s. The line she chose as her favorite is mine as well.
I’m still waiting to be pierced by that starlight.
lisa
You were one of the first people to pick up on the “disturbing” factor in that piece of writing. Yes, his intentions were not good.
lisa
Dear Andreas,
Thank you for the comments you left on my Xanga blog, WhenWordsCollide. As usual, when someone I “don’t know” leaves a comment, I immediately click their handle to “check them out”. Your poem here and the post below remind me of some of the stuff I was writing in the late 70s and 80s (about the time I was in my late 20s and early 30s and working out a lot of alcoholic problems. Here’s a link to a rather long “answer poem” to your pieces I call “Empty Beer Cans.”
Hope you stop by again, and I’ll check out more of your work as well.
Michael F. Nyiri, poet,philosopher,fool
ElectricPoetry
Hi again. Just read the second comment. It made me happy to hear that good came out of the poem, regarding you wanting to make sure your sister was safe. I suppose the poem stemmed from my own experience with violence/sexual predators and I think they’re everywhere. Some are right on the brink of doing something, they just need an open opportunity (in the poem, the empty lot, the woman alone, the high heeled shoes)
Glad it made an impact.
lisa
thanks for stopping by my little corner of Xanga….I come here and find you are playing my song. Painfully too true, beautifully written. ~jacki