Excerpt for Heartbreak, Whisky, & Death by , available in its entirety at Smashwords


40 Rhyming poems by Jack Nganga

Copyright 2017 Jack Nganga

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review or scholarly journal

First printing: 2017

Jacktrade Publishing

Biashara street

<Nairobi>, Kenya, 00100



Unpublished anonymous

The suicide note

Happiness is a drink called alcohol

Thinking inside the grave

Dear Rose

For Jack so loved the whisky

The day the sun explodes

Time is of the nonsense

The soulmate

I have been slashed in half by love

The secret to money and power

The Wizard of loss

I am lonesome in this place Mighty God

The devil’s advocate uncensored

Breakfast with death

Misery begins at forty

Matters of life and death

Boozing my self confidence

While I was busy getting drunk

A funeral for my dreams

Too lonely to be alive

Her love poisoned my heart, whisky poisoned my liver

Whisky Dixie

The love of nobody's life

The departed

Domestic Whisky Salvation

Tell me why

A tribute to Merle Haggard (1937-2016)

Unhappy dummy

West Peace field

Any cheap whisky will do

Good at growing old

The kind of wife you marry when you have no money

A letter to my late grandma

From the heart of a simple man

Whichever way you choose to be happy

The rat race

A plot to sedate the mind and free the heart

Food can’t live with it can’t live without it

The cheapest drinking place in town

About the Author

A short overview of upcoming novels

Unpublished anonymous

I have stories in my heart I want to tell,

Some of people in paradise and others in hell.

I know all the characters in my stories well,

Some perish, while some are saved by the bell.

The characters are just you and me in print,

Described perfectly by thousands of words on ink.

They may be imagined, made up names and identities,

But they are just like us, our situations and realities.

Like God running the world and carrying out his plans,

I forge words and create stories with twists and turns.

Where paradise gets lost and hell breaks loose.

Where no one can escape the blues.

I am an artist; words are my paint as I sit and sketch

The reflection of humanity’s maddening stench,

Brightly captured line after line on A4 paper canvas.

Like a conductor I swing my fingers and make the alphabet dance-

Heartbreaks all over and death in the end.

In imagination as in reality, it’s hard to find a friend.

Every man for himself and every woman abused.

Even if you are Oprah or the queen, you still get used.

Words are fun to merge, into sentences to tell tales,

Compressing into pages, explaining why happiness fails.

Dreams shattered in a tunnel, like the princess of Wales,

People spreading viruses in beds and electronic mails.

Like a chef I mix words as if they are ingredients,

Cooking up manuscripts that have no recipients.

I compose the truth in exaggerated prose,

Enough to steal Shakespeare's glory, from right under his nose.

My characters may not be close to fame just yet,

But they have more grit, than Romeo and Juliet

More complex than Shakespeare's Macbeth,

Best laid plans, matters of life and death.

An unedited anthology of human tragedies:

An underground bible of life’s vanities.

With chapters and passages for my eyes only,

Hopefully to one day inspire and comfort the lonely.

When that day comes maybe I will be famous,

But for now, I am unpublished anonymous.

The suicide note

To whom it may concern.

Don’t be shocked what you are about to learn-

In any case, this is a suicide note,

The last thing on this earth I wrote.

Just listen, I don’t need you to reply,

As I briefly narrate, why I had to die.

Life was hard, what else can I say,

I never had, not one happy day.

It was my birthday last month but one,

At thirty-five, with this life I am done.

What’s so special about breathing?

What’s the big deal about your heart beating?

Why should it beat if it can’t beat your troubles?

Why keep breathing the dust as your world crumbles?

It is not easy being alive, and it’s more difficult dying,

But whatever more life is offering, I am not buying.

Like most, I dint find love and was escaped by wealth,

So I got depressed, and with that came my poor health.

Enough millionaires have passed me by in flashy cars.

Enough women have engraved my heart with deep scars.

Knowing I will never be a rich man no a lover;

Under the blanket of merciful death, I take cover.

Death can’t be so bad; it’s just being permanently sedated,

Detaching all your feelings, from a world full of hatred.

The government took from me tax, and the landlord his rent.

Toiling under tyranny was how my youth was spent,

The church came rebuking my sins and offering me hope,

But I couldn't hold on to the hope, so now I hold the rope.

Make no mistake; I have nothing against the Lord

It’s just that the cost of living is higher than I can afford.

If living is a daily event, I am taking a rain-check.

I will stay home instead and fit a rope around my neck.

I would rather turn into a corpse and be still in death,

Than be a loitering tramp in the street with breath.

I know so little about living, and about dying even less,

But so be it if losing my life will be my last expense.

I hope father and mother find it in their hearts to forgive me-

If I could rewind back time, I would tell them not to conceive me.

But I want to thank them for they tried to give me the best.

It’s just unfortunate my wings broke as soon as I left their nest.

I have been falling ever since and am about to hit the ground.

I have always been a loner and this is a sure way to avoid the crowd.

Whoever discovers this note can have the little possessions I had.

The only thing to be found of interest is my broken ipad.

Please if it’s not too much to ask, don’t bother with the coffin.

I hate the idea of people surrounding my dead body sobbing.

Put me on one of those fire chambers, let me burn to smoke,

I want no remembrance of me, for my life was a joke.

Happiness is a drink called alcohol

You hear voices in the bar room, making merry, making a toast.

They have offices and homes, but here is where they laugh most.

Men from all walks of life, united under the banner of strong drinks.

Here you can be yourself without caring what the world thinks.

When God made the world and everything in it,

He knew without alcohol it would not be complete.

He gave birds wings, and waved them as they flew,

Then he gave men, the knowledge to brew.

Men have conquered the world drunk on spirits and wines.

Drinking men have grabbed pens and drawn crooked lines.

Dividing the world into nations, printing it on fancy maps.

The borders are crooked because warlords were drunk, perhaps!

Poor men and beggars have known what it feels to be kings.

When they drink, they get drunk, and poverty no longer stings.

Unmarried women and maids know what it feels to be a lady.

When they drink, they are beautiful, for they can’t hold the mirror steady.

If God had made man out of clay and wine instead of blood,

He would never have had to send mankind the great flood.

Men would have obeyed his word and Noah would not have built the ark.

Wine is good for the heart; no one would ever die of a heart attack.

Or if God had filled the oceans with wine instead of water,

The world would be a place of great and endless laughter.

Men walking around with jars full of wine and hearts full of love,

Singing songs on sailing boats, no landlords and oil barons to serve.

But the world is corrupt, they trade the wines and spirits.

Chemically induced, cleverly marketed, to bring in more digits.

Still we flock to bars and liquor shops, if our time and money can afford.

To partake this strong drink, in pursuit of happiness that is fraud.

Has it caused more harm than good, this alcoholic beverage?

Are there more accidents, than men with forgotten rage?

When they drink, they may not be socially coherent.

But they are happy when they drink, the alcohol is God-sent.

Thinking inside the grave

Yes, I had a heart, and yes, I tried to share my love,

But it was a cruel world where nothing was ever enough.

Its dump to love someone, it’s pointless to care.

Life was many times miserable and unfair.

I could seldom change my fortunes through a prayer.

The pain wasn’t always there,

It was undecided, coming and going.

Eventually it started staying and showing.

It killed me, a day I had dreaded but wronged for.

They buried me six feet down below.

So that I could be alone as I had always been.

Expect for the worms soon to crawl all over my skin.

Happy at last, only just not aware.

Death is like going to sleep, but the morning isn’t there.

Dint mater whether I was a rich man or not,

My net value now zero, as I was about to rot.

I wondered how many came to pay their last respect.

Very few am sure, some didn’t even get the text.

Perhaps it was just as well.

I dint want everybody to know I was going to hell.

I didn’t leave a widow and children behind.

I died a bachelor, with lots of pride.

I loved and lusted a after women,

I passed down to some, my semen,

Fell in love with one or two,

My love wasn’t returned, I got blue.

Alcohol was my only medicine,

Makes you forget the sort of loser you have being.

I died young and abrupt.

Like a tiny mouse caught in a trap,

Why fall sick and die in pain,

Why see heavy crowds and stand outside for rain?

The dirt from the shovels steadily beat upon my coffin,

Like a drum beat, only I wasn’t on the dance-floor hopping.

Was at last in my grave, void of feelings but overwhelmed with freedom.

A deep dark lonely place, filled with eternity’s boredom.

A lifetime of heartbreaks and worries and it comes down to this,

Back where I was before I was born, my chamber of peace.

Dear Rose

Dear Rose,

You’re Perfect and everyone knows,

From your shiny chocolate nose,

All the way down your painted toes.

It clearly shows.

Dear Rose,

I wish you were always close,

Lying next to me as the day dawns,

Feeling your heartbeat before the cock crows,

Holding you in my arms as the cold wind blows.

Dear Rose,

You have administered me such strong dose,

For my heart is pumping blood like the river flows,

As my love for you steadily grows,

I am so tempted to propose.

Dear Rose,

The day I met you my heart froze,

I don’t know what the future holds,

And we are somehow on different roads,

But Rose, this could be love, don’t oppose.

Dear Rose,

You can be the cure to my woes,

You can be my shelter when it snows,

Growing old together as time goes,

Standing with me as the curtain draws.

Dear Rose,

Enough words I can’t compose,

To describe how my feeling arose,

The day our paths began to cross,

I pray for better days, hoping fate allows.

Dear Rose,

I know there are many of those,

From whom I could have chose

I don’t know whether they are friends or foes,

But my love belongs to you Rose.

For Jack so loved the whisky

For Jack so loved the whisky,

That he spent all his hard-earned money,

Buzzing like a bee, in a hive full of honey,

Painting the town red, every club, pub and bar,

Mingling among strangers, feeling like a star.

For Jack so loved the whisky,

That he became well known throughout the land,

For stocking his house with every available brand,

Inviting friends over for a drinking festival,

Partying like the devil, being anything but civil.

For Jack so loved the whisky,

That when the wife asked him to choose between her and the drink,

He gave her an answer faster than she could blink,

He threw away the only woman that loved him,

Laughing as she was leaving, filling his glass to the brim.

For Jack so loved the whisky,

That he made it his daily morning beverage-

Whisky was his script, and the world was his stage,

The whisky made him a great actor; an undiscovered star,

He drunk and gave performances worth of an Oscar.

For Jack so loved the whisky,

That he applied for a job in a whisky company,

They hired him because he was witty and funny,

The job came with a free lifetime whisky supply,

So he vowed to drink till the day he shall die.

For Jack so loved the whisky,

That he drove under the influence;

Drove a Beetle but thought it was a Mercedes Benz.

He had loud music playing from the bass,

Driving in circles till he ran out of gas

For Jack so loved the whisky,

That he started his own bar selling whisky only.

Among other whisky lovers he never felt lonely.

To the hungry, he never had any food to spare,

But to the thirsty, he always had plenty of whisky to share.

For Jack so loved the whisky,

That he went and bought his own distiller,

So that he could truly be a whisky dealer.

The government never gave him the license,

So, he drank all his whisky to cover the expense.

For Jack so loved the whisky,

That when the doctor gave him the bad news,

He started diluting his whisky with juice.

But it was too late; the doctor said he had liver cirrhosis.

The juice was not going to reverse the diagnosis.

For Jack so loved the whisky,

That on his deathbed wired to a drip,

He still requested for one more sip.

After he drank he said he was ready for his last trip,

A few days later they buried him six feet deep.

For Jack so loved the whisky,

That they put in his coffin his favorite brand.

Then the preacher made the mourners understand,

That God gave each person a different kind of passion,

May he allow Jack some whisky, on his heavenly mansion.

For Jack so loved the whisky.

Time is of the nonsense

Seconds, minutes, hours and days,

Weeks, months, years and decades,

Centuries, millenniums and forgotten ages,

The book of time is filled with endless pages.

We can trace time, from the time before time began.

All the time in the world has passed, but what have we to learn?

Men and kings before us, have lived in this very world,

We walk their very steps, soon to join them in the ground.

Life is brief with no consolation or relief,

Time will not stop for men to deal with their grief.

Time speeds furiously, knocking everything to the past,

Buildings are brought down in a blast, as men turn to dust.

Time is but a vast and invincible prison,

Holding its captives till death for no reason.

Time is boring, mindless and unfair,

It is out of our control no matter how much we care.

From the day of creation, and the very first sunrise,

Men have wrestled with time, and paid a high price,

Suffering only to live and living only to suffer.

Life is bleak, tragic and there is no time buffer.

Time makes no sense, even if it be of value,

To live your whole life tense, and next is your burial.

To set your whole life by the calendar and the diary,

To be betrayed by time, all those days you woke up early.

Time is a treasure that has no pleasure,

Working days are much more than days of leisure.

By the time you have time to enjoy your hard-earned dime,

You are sick all the time and your past your prime.

Times change, but time changes not its behavior,

Aging and erasing men, as they seek mercy from their savior.

To resurrect in a world where the day does not end,

To live in a world where time is dead.

The day the sun explodes

One day this old earth shall pass,

When the cosmic gods unleash their last damning curse.

Everything will be digested, into the bellies of a billion skies,

The black smoke will paint hands, waving a billion goodbyes.

It will be the end of all roads:

The day the sun explodes.

There will be no one to witness this earth-shattering glory.

No reporter will cover this last breaking story.

The curtain of history will come down in a stellar blast.

The present will marry the future and become one past.

It will be the greatest show on earth, but no audience or applauds:

The day the sun explodes.

Physical matter will become statistics, that will never again matter.

There will be nothing to record, and no one to enter the data.

Gold will be worthless, unredeemable by dollars or pounds,

When the periodic table goes haywire, and bonds all its compounds.

No defense gadgets, stock markets or computer codes:

The day the sun explodes.

Millions of years dominated by the greed of humanity,

Reduced to vanity by unstoppable cosmic insanity.

Leaving nothing to stand, not a strand of grass nor a city.

Annihilating everything with no pity or peace treaty.

In a colorful ceremony to mark the end as it unfolds:

The day the sun explodes.

It will be the last day for the outdoors, the brightest sunlight,

But neither will a girl hold an ice cream, nor a boy a kite.

The last carnival on earth, the summer of all summers,

Before the gods bang together, their thunderous hammers.

No picket-fenced suburbs, no mortgages and leaseholds,

The day the sun explodes.

The sun is like a big whale and the earth its wormy bait,

On a nuclear collision course, to set the record straight.

Not even our millennial graves will be respected.

Millions of years after we die, they will be desecrated.

Lakes and oceans will evaporate with fossils of fish and toads.

The day the sun explodes.

The soulmate

Everyone they say, has a soulmate in a way,

Those lucky have met, or will meet theirs someday.

The rest might never know, what true love is,

Love knocks on their door, not to enter but to tease.

The soulmate is an angel, in form of a person,

One with whom you can share, the same kind of passion.

Men have conquered the world, only to find it not enough,

What they were trying to conqer, was someone to love.

God made man, then a woman from his lib,

That’s why men feel for women, a love so deep.

But men took love for granted, in favor of their greed,

They betrayed their hearts, and the love marching ceased.

Mankind survived centuries, through plagues sleeping on floors,

The soulmate hardly existed, throughout famines and wars.

Men bled for their kings, thousands dying of broken hearts,

Without their soulmate present, they died impoverished like rats.

By the time peace and prosperity, found mankind again,

Men were faced with a new kind of reality and pain.

Just when they could afford, to flirt and share some laughs,

The availability of the soulmate, depended on economic graphs.

So that men could only marry, women they could afford.

The soulmate was again betrayed, and love was again flawed.

Still there were those very brave, who dared to still believe,

They must meet their soulmate, and wipe away their grief.

The soulmate knows you better than yourself and beyond,

The soulmate and you, are two peas in a pond.

Without the soul mate, you are a face lost in the crowd,

But you stand out from the rest, when your soulmate is around.

The soulmate is worth, more than riches and gold,

You can’t place value on someone, with whom to laugh till your old.

Sadly, not everyone of us, will find his or hers,

More than riches and gold, the soulmate is scarce.

I have been slashed in half by love

I thought you would be the best wife,

I thought it was the beginning of my life-

A sea of passion and bliss for me to dive,

But it was like putting my hand in dry bee hive.

I was stung and the honey was not enough;

I have been slashed in half by love.

Chocolate and flowers by the dozen,

Only for the relationship to worsen.

Despite our safety belts being fastened,

We lost control, crushing fast in the first bend.

The collision was quite rough;

I have been slashed in half by love.

We hugged, we kissed, we embraced,

Your legs weakened and my heart raced.

Ours was the story romance films are based,

But now my feelings for you are misplaced.

It was all fake, it was all a bluff;

I have been slashed in half by love.

You lit my world on fire,

You sent my blood pressure higher,

You were a love monger and me the impulse buyer,

Only to discover you were a liar.

A crow has transformed out of a dove,

I have been slashed in half by love.

My heart was locked away, till you came with the key.

You took the chains away, and you set me free.

But you left my blindfold on and I couldn’t see,

That your feelings were shedding, like in fall, a leafy tree.

A cold winter and heartbreak is all I have;

I have been slashed in half by love.

One half wants to commit murder,

Should it be me or you I wonder!

Love and death is the same, if you compare harder.

The other half will forever regret this blunder.

I will see you in hell below, or in heaven above;

I have been slashed in half by love.

The secret to money and power

You need it, you want it, just to know how it feels.

You’re tired of your hands shaking every time you handle the bills.

You always have just enough to get by, but not past.

You’re tired of wondering how long your credit will last.

The secret to money and power:

Wasting not your mind on poverty another hour.

The secret comes to the one who is most proud,

Of whatever he or she affords to have around.

If a broom is all you have, just smile and grab it,

Sweep the floor clean, and you may find a coin to eat.

The secret to money and power:

Living in a shack, but imagining it is a tower.

The only thing to fear is fear, someone once said.

Look at everything as if it has all been paid.

Where there is a will there is a way, all debts will clear,

If every minute all the while, you choose to be of cheer.

The secret to money and power:

Dropping your worries and picking up a pretty flower.

You don’t need to be a billionaire, or be the pope,

But you can be anything you want, if you nurture that little hope.

Yes, that little hope, that comes and goes,

Let it stay and never go, and watch yourself become a boss.

The secret to money and power:

Singing a happy song while in the shower.

Peasants have often become landlords, and vice versa.

Lepers have survived plagues while champions die of cancer.

For going along or against this little secret.

Either you reap a reward, or some empty regret.

The secret to money and power:

Removing what makes your thoughts sour.

The Wizard of loss

I am the wizard of loss; I have lost it all I suppose,

First, I lost my job, upon disagreeing with my boss.

Then lost all my cash in the bar, drinking every last cent,

I lost my apartment when I couldn’t pay the rent.

Homeless and broke, I called my girl on the phone,

Before I could talk, someone snatched the phone; it was gone.

I walked through the rain all the way to her place,

Just to find her in bed with a man who had a chiseled face.

There was no use to deny it was over, had lost her too,

I spent the night shivering, inside a smelly public loo.

I went to see my parents hoping they would take me in,

When mother saw me, she asked where for three years I had been.

That while I was gone my father fell ill and died,

There were medical bills to pay, thus my inheritance had dried.

She said loving me was difficult, and she had really tried,

But I was a bad seed, so she slammed the door at me as she cried.

I could stand to lose anything, but not my mom and dad,

I dint know what to do, I thought I would go mad.

I went to see my best friend hoping for a crying shoulder,

When he saw me he exclaimed, men you’ve grown older!

We remembered the old days, when we were young and carefree,

But before I could finish my tea, he told me to leave and let him be.

I tried to remind him a friend in need is a friend indeed,

But he said he could not help, for he now had a family to feed.

I had lost my best friend, could hardly believe my bad luck.

I wanted to get lost at sea, and be swallowed by a large shark.

But even before that could happen, I had more things yet to lose,

I was arrested for shoplifting, and drinking too much booze.

I found myself behind bars having lost my freedom.

I thought there was nothing left to lose, in this God-forsaken prison,

Until I saw the food they served and quickly lost my appetite,

Just shortly before I lost half my teeth, in my first prison fight.

I lost my hearing too, from the loud whistles and bells,

Then I lost my health, from the unhygienic prison cells.

I had lost so much it seems, I dint care anymore.

I was lost inside this misery, I wondered what life was for.

I had lost my religion, so it didn’t matter if I prayed.

One thing I wanted to lose, was my memory but it stayed.

By the time I was free, I had lost so much time.

Had lost my youth in prison, now an old man without a dime.

Deep down I knew, I had lost the will to live,

I was losing my mind, wished my days to be brief.

Am about to lose my life, death is about to win,

My grave will be lost, in the cemetery am put in.

I am lonesome in this place Mighty God

Here I am, still wondering who I am,

I am nothing like my dad or my mom,

There is no rhythm in my life, just a low tuneless hum,

And the sound of a loud and strange distant drum.

I am running out of fuel, but life remains a tedious race;

I am lonesome in this place,

Mighty God.

The sky is always falling somewhere in the world,

A plane goes down or a bomb goes off, amid a crowd,

Either you are deaf to this, or misery has no sound,

But it has plenty of versions if you look around.

Men waging war on men, because of a difference in race;

I am lonesome in this place,

Mighty God.

The rich have no compassion or regard for the poor,

Diseases everywhere, now half of them with no cure.

Whatever plans you have for us, I am not sure,

But humanity is in danger, as good leaders grow fewer.

All the suffering in this world, who will erase?

I am lonesome in this place,

Mighty God.

My heart breaks as many times as it beats.

Along with others I am drowning in the sea of defeats,

Relationships fail, families break and love retreats,

When ancient religion and modern technology meets.

Good and evil walk side by side, but evil has a faster pace;

I am lonesome in this place,

Mighty God.

This old earth no longer free, it now has a price tag,

Land so expensive, yet there is no gold to be dug,

Just for a man to buy a house, before the banks begin to nag,

And the man who wore a suit one day, now wears a rag.

Yet you made a universe, with plenty of room out in space;

I am lonesome in this place,

Mighty God.

Then every evening, in the shark I call a bedroom,

I cover myself in a blanket hiding away from the doom.

I feel so scared in the dark, I might as well be in a tomb,

I regret the day I came out of my mother's womb.

Sunrise ends my torment, but another dreadful day I must face;

I am lonesome in this place,

Mighty God

The devil’s advocate uncensored

Original angel, God's first personal assistant,

Going errands for the Almighty, across upon infinite distant.

The toast of heaven, captain of the A team,

A is for angels, all jealous of Satan’s beam,

As if they knew, God had spent a little more time on him-

For apparent he was "special", leader of the angel band,

Who knew he would become, an enemy to God’s holy Word?

He was there by his master’s side, secretary to creation,

While other angels stood by, hateful of this relation.

God's favorite angel, beautiful with no blemish,

Flapping his wings in praise, as God filled the oceans with fish.

Brightest among angels, the very first superstar,

Keeping records of all creation, from the birds to the moon and stars.

Chief astronomer, of God’s magnificent light works,

The only one with clearance, to share his thoughts and remarks,

“The ocean is not deep enough; the heavens are too wide.”

First angel to speak his mind.

He was to God what Mark Anthony was to Caesar,

He loved his master, but he was not an angel pleaser.

He came out on top, at the heaven’s post-creation dance,

Danced and danced even after the master took his seven-day rest.

Giving Michael and Gabriel their much-awaited chance.

“He no longer dances for your glory master, give him just one test,”

“Take his wings and beauty master; see if keeps your commandment.”

And so, once beloved Satan, was turned to a lowly serpent.

He would have got back his wings, were it not for Adam and Eve.

He was April-fooling them about the fruit; no intention to deceive.

But foolish Eve ate the apple, and Adam followed suit,

There was no fair trial, so a third sympathizing angels quit.

And now the once brightly feathered angel, grew dreadful horns,

Reigning below the sea with other ex-angels: the demons.

From the A-team to the D-team, from angelic beam, to demonic steam.

If you too divinely fell from grace, from such a high level,

You would have no choice but to become the devil.

Breakfast with death

This morning is not of sweet graces,

No birds singing and no smiling faces,

The aftermath of a sleepless night of torment,

Waking up red-eyed with a gloomy intent.

Crooked ways of this world quite choking,

I can’t breathe, am like a frog by the river bed cloaking.

All these manifold of heartbreaks it’s time to appease,

Stand on a stool and embrace death with a kiss.

Pleasures I have known less, suffering I have known more,

I hope there will be neither where am about to go.

Heaven and hell is the design of ancient ignorance,

There is no one above or below looking at a glance.

Rebukes and sermons have been wasted upon my ears,

And did not change the way I behaved among my peers.

Love is a talent very few I have met possess,

But my one and only talent has been loneliness.

Brought in this world a morning like this one,

I cried, I crawled; walked and ran but now I am done,

My journey has been long and needs not to be longer.

The joy of my youth has been weak, in old age it can’t get stronger.

Grey hair and wrinkled skin will not be my cup of tea,

I won’t persevere more years of misery, I need to be free.

So, I make a toast to all the lack of meaning gone by,

With a bottle of whisky, I celebrate vanity before I die,

Strong drink to boost my spirits, as I stare death in the eye,

Get drunk and high before on the ceiling I swing high.

Am all alone as light pours the room and my mind pours memories,

Flapping my diaries, revisiting days of sadness and worries,

Entries of dates upon dates that make no sense,

The quality of life balanced against income and expense.

As the whisky mixes with my blood for the last time,

I feel a voice telling me to abandon this hideous crime.

I drink and drink hoping the little voice will fade,

For am looking forward to arriving promptly at eternity’s arcade.

Before this morning passes so shall have been my life.

Eternity looks like a trouble-sinking sea that I want to dive.

The last shot of whisky drives me madly to fulfill my mission,

There goes my life as I know it, no rhyme or reason.

Misery begins at forty

I was a man, a cold-blooded drunk, as they come,

I lived my whole life in a little house on my dad’s farm.

A broke hustler with a defunct bank account,

My future was always in doubt.

I married late, at the start of my forties,

It was not for love, I just wanted society to notice.

I did it to save myself from the embarrassment,

Purchase this book or download sample versions for your ebook reader.
(Pages 1-29 show above.)