With Booze To Lips Doth Not Death Be Last Gasping Breath. Poem by Michael Gale

The wandering vodka or bourbon bottle attracted to lushtic lips...
No regret but only deniable uttered reprisals and quips.

Liquid dizziness travels to aching and soured of tummy...
Chosen path by one such dummy.

No turning back thy hands of time...
No regret, only stupidity's crime.

Aware of embearassments only in sleight...
Beware this life's pictured as only this unsettled of right.

Life spent entirely in gutters own way...
Bubbles do rise in bottles last day.

A tomb filled arrival t'will be next to yee...
Soul to life hath no choice but flee.

Tom toms beat out it's untimely breathed beated bleat...
No hush or unsent sorrow as silenced dead silence whispers out
lifeless defeat.

Pangs of sad pain hangs round a neck worn like a blackened golden pendant only to others appear as saddened wreath engrav'ed...
No hope, no wish, no help, all has gone on as like wasted life be unsaved.