The Alcoholics Poem by Jimi Doyle

birds are perched
various and serene
in a sun bleached bare tree

can't they avoid the death there?

I don't care
I'm just here
to get drunk

the Mexican artist won't paint the apostles
the way the Pope paid him to

twelve...not three
not fourteen
not six

can't he see the talent wasted?

He doesn't care
He's just here
to get drunk

river turtles are basking on a sunny log
some dropp off
some remain
some return

why make a decision?

We don't care
We're just here
to get drunk