Not Quite Dark Enough

I could write a poem on Addiction,
But it’d never be quite dark enough,
The clichés are all true,
But they never can do,
Justice to really how rough,
That dance can be,
When that Sweet Lady,
First sweeps you off of your feet,
Before that dance is through,
She’s no doubt conquered you,
And won’t ever let you retreat,

You twirl round the floor,
Though you don’t want anymore,
Once her ugly and mean side is shown,
Your head knows it’s time,
But soon you will find,
Your body’s a mind of its own,
She’ll take control,
Of your heart and your soul,
Promise all, but deliver just fears,
Try as you sometimes might,
To put up a fight,
She can keep the dance going for years,

She’ll dance you to hell,
That much I can tell,
Cuz I’ve danced with the lady myself,
Been put through the pale,
Fought both tooth and nail,
I keep the scars in a jar on a shelf,
Only one thing to trust,
As many times as you must,
With this Lady who has brought you disgrace,
Gather love and support,
Then cut her off short,
And slap the bitch right in the face!

Man, Time, Pain

There are few constants in the world, and two of those are of pain and suffering.  Pain is a wonderful thing.  It reminds us that we are fallible and alive.  If we did not feel pain, we would be dead.  We must embrace pain, as we embrace failure.  We must realize that we are utterly worthless and that trying to accomplish something worthwhile is an exercise in futility.  Something will inevitable go wrong, the spoke of the wheel will fail, and the best-laid plans will falter under the enormous weight of reality.  There is no redemption, there is no hope.  Man ─ as he stands ─ is alone.  His own thoughts will betray him, his body will decay, and time is neither his friend nor his enemy.  Time, an artificial construct has made slaves of us all.  Before the invention of the watch, the most despicable of devices, there was only night and day as measurement.

It Just Is

To everything perhaps a season,
That doesn’t mean a rhyme or reason,
Fate plays its hand without showing a card,
At times we’re ever so demanding,
In our need for understanding,
But the truth is sometimes life’s just bloody hard,
It’s also true it seldom lasts,
And at some point rough times are past,
Though we know some day they’ll come back our way,
So raise your glasses with your friends,
Know that every road has bends,
And that in the end joy will find a way.