The Decommissioned Pub Poem by Mad Gone

What as a child I failed to do,
I have in adulthood I foolishly believed achieved.
With John D’s no longer pulling pints,
With the bar now decommissioned to the past,
Would the memories now be gone at last.
But much too late to save our Hugh.
There were many more in line to join him,
Swaying before the golden gates in never ending queue.
With their carryout hidden in brown paper,
And whiskey smelt upon their breath
Did they enter in with our dear Georgie Best?


I wished and prayed for those around me strayed.
So often had I the need to feel aggrieved.
While I should have so foolishly played.
Instead I watched as the sands of time were running out.
The childish arms not able to barricade the door,
While the quest was to find salvation/oblivation,
The shirt of my back was drunkenly tore.
Writing lines in school, about the importance of appearance,
I thought of the person I loved the dearest.

Sisters, daughters and a son tried in vein,
Many others simply had to walk away,
While those who had no choice, but to remain.
Trying to reinforce the reasons she should stay sober,
While her liver was trying to take things over.
Drying out, the medical opinion the only remaining choice,
With time booked in a lovely sanitized hotel,
Listening to the lives the demon had all but ruined.
With optimising floating in the clouds,
It was long before the wind of optimism should have been allowed.


The clock had started counting down,
Much longer than we had need to frown.
A burden to our mother’s apron strings,
While one less string is being pulled,
The route around the three public bars was well travelled,
For if not at home, then this is were you would be sure to find,
An almost unconscious woman, waiting there in line.
who had once again one too many glasses of wine.
While the grains of sand ran ever fine.