One Hundred Times
The time is now
One hundred to be precise
One hundred verse
I call my own
To think or not
To drink or not
Bedeviled once again
Many more memories
Gripping inside me
At least my words
I write with my pen
Or an index finger
To be excact
Not just mouthing off
Like I used to do
Talking trash
Just like you
Are they just simple minds
That read these memories?
Perhaps a genious or two
How about a hypocrite
Without a soul
No matter what you think of this
Alcoholics pen
I will come back and
Stike the keyboard
Once again
poem by Matt Mondschein
Added by Poetry Lover
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