From Forties to Faith: a poem
art & poetry by Brian Loewer
From Forties to Faith: a poem
He's got a good side, but he's feeling so dark.
A bit of guilt flees with a bic flick spark.
Dying conviction with just a few hits.
No need for change, he's high as sh*t.
Feeling dead with no fire to burn.
Body alive, as a dime bag burns.
The high wears on, running it's course.
And the high wears off. Buyers Remorse.
Kick the habit? Or keep fueling the flame?
He drinks down a forty, and laughs without shame.
Conviction and guilt are just words to control
Ignoring the tugs inside of his soul.
Unable to control the urge of his chase.
The highs leave him running in place.
Satisfaction is gone, but the habits remain
Monotony of life is warping to pain.
He continued his route.
Daily doing his thing.
Up till the night,
of that startling ring.
--
"Accident? Dead?
I saw her this evening.
I was just at her house...
This can't be happening!"
- -
He collapsed to the floor,
tears filling his hands.
legs of mush,
he lost the power to stand.
Tears falling in silence,
He called an old friend.
“Dear Lord! I'm here!
I can't do this again!”
His lips trembled with wreckless abandon.
Weak. Then peace. Then standing.
He poured out his bottle.
And flushed his bud down the pot.
Crying, "Jesus, it's all I got..."
And so he prayed again,
like when he was young.
Believing In the power
of God and his Son.
More Poetry by this Author:
© 2011 Leone Vidoni
