Poetry

NIGHT OUT

By 11th January 2008December 9th, 2019No Comments

I remember my old, fool-hardy ways
In those far, far away, much younger days
When alcohol fuelled my uncontrolled mind
And thoughts of many things fun things, all defined
As escapades in the dark of the night –
No respect to prevent my poor delight.

I remember when alcohol filled my fists
And smashing my skin and bone into bits
And carrying knives in my best black suits
Or my well-polished, black, knee-high boots
And covered up a lack of confidence;
Shouting and laughing my noisy cadence
For all others to hear and to compare
With all those sol-di-ers they have seen there.

Chris Green

Author Chris Green

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