by Abhishek Pandey
Let me help you out with your coat,
For your appearance is dreary,
and you look spent and weary.
You stride at a languid pace,
Either a lousy day at work,
Or a quarrel with the wife ?
For your very mind and body,
Seem to be at civil strife.
Have a seat by the booth, Sir.
While I bring you your regular.
Or does your whim fancy,
Something different from the similar ?
For you have put down your head in dismay,
And you are not staring at the Monet.
The vicissitudes of your life,
Seem to be overpowering,
Your dire needs; seems to be towering,
Pardon my delay Sir, for I'm not sure,
what a scotch or brandy may be able to cure,
Your excruciating pain, I may ensure.
So drown your sorrows in this glass,
Fill it up to the brim I will.
So take a moment of your time to kill,
Don't worry if the whiskey does outpour,
For I have my waist cloth for the ruse,
I will wipe it now, as I have wiped before,
Draw a blank to your pestering misery,
And share with me your clandestine mentation,
However Orphic it might be,
For I am there for you, O Inebriate,
An auditor as well as a shrink.
The melancholy is deep-rooted,
And your lament is too obvious.
But another drink won't do no harm,
For there are arduous times,
When men have been pitiful,
And men have been alarmed,
But liquors are there to spirit up,
And offer you respite,
This loathly interim, it will make you endear,
Nothing has gone amiss, so don't fear,
Your psyche will be fathomed,
It is all in the mind you know ?
But your fuddled eyes say it all,
Oh ! Don't trip Sir, don't fall !
Here, take my shoulder and slack up,
No ! That is your shoe, not a stirrup !
And don't ponder upon the Green Fairy,
She is just an apparition,
Induced by the wormwood and anise,
So it's another drink you desire ?
Oh please ! Oh no Sire !
Your reason has fallen prey,
To the depressant intoxicant,
Giddiness has laid its eyes on you,
And your body is now numbed,
You shall feel no pain, for hours,
For all your pains have succumbed.
You look heavily nauseated,
But that is all a part of this play,
Your veiled face is out in the open,
It was just this, I needed to convey,
You don't tread too well,
Any sober person could tell,
So hence forth you idle creature !
And go join your likes over there,
But pay the price of the liquor you've drunk,
And leave a tip for yours truly, genial host.
Go home dear Sir, waits there your chauffeur,
And do remember me if again,
You are mentally deranged.
Woe doth not love Love,
So love not woe,
And I am your Bartender,
An ally and a foe.
Abhishek Pandey - The Pandemonium Poet
AP alias 'The Pandemonium' is a rather irregular person with his own way with words, he tweaks and bends giving them soul. Poetry and Philosophy being two of his greatest passions, solitude remains his greatest companion.