a toast

Lately I've been on a bit of a bender and my days are blending together
Since she and I went our separate ways
So I'd say I'm long past due for a break
Now bad news takes a hell of a toll
And the balance gets paid making change from the soul
And my last two cents were deposited down the hole I drank myself into
But things begin to get brighter
Because through music and writing I ignite fires in my mind
By which to find a way back to being myself contented
But that destination is more than a few paces away
So I'm facing my days lately in stride
And frankly just trying to survive my nights
I'll take what pains me most over ice with a sidecar of humbling blows to my pride
And make it a double
No, make it a triple
Just give me the whole damn bottle so I can throttle my mind and anatomy
I think my body is mad at me for packing away enough beer to turn my guts into a brewery
And it's not just because of what she chose to do to me
But that is most of it
So let's raise a toast to this carnival of pain
And give it a name to be more formal about things
I think "Her" has a nice ring to it
You go ahead and sing to it
I'll tip my pint silently because I'm still trying to find the words to describe all this appropriately
Everything I've wrote lately fits more to a liquor store ordering form than a resume of my poetry
But I'm getting better at that
Albeit slowly, but steadily
And I'd like to think I'm ready to let go of all this
But I'm still clenching in both fists the baton she passed to me before dashing off to join another relay race
So now I'm standing here facing the finish line alone
Then I got so off track we go back to the realization stated at the start of this poem
Finding myself awake late at night staring at the bare walls of what once was our home
And is now just my apartment
Complete with empty bed so I can reflect on how little I need her
And apart from the music pumping loudly from stereo speakers
The silence resounding off the walls calls to the pieces of my broken heart to stay shattered and forever apart
So I'll just keep losing more of myself in the wells and top-shelf options before me
And since my Guinness implores me to squeeze her tighter
What else can I do but comply with the needs of another cold one
And after I've emptied this pint let's roll one up tight and ignite another evening of poor decisions
Perhaps this will get easier with a feebler mind and blurred vision
Perhaps my problems will dissolve instantly if I'm more than just a little bit twisted
Perhaps the hurt that I'm feeling and the rage that I'm reeling through will be erased if I'm shitfaced in order to stop needing the abuse that I take in huge doses
So if wasting my life away is the choice of the day
Well, I'll make the most of it
So everybody get your cups up for one final toast
And let's end this trainwreck on a positive note
That which does not kill us only makes us stronger and the longer we persevere through gritted teeth and blinked back tears
the more genuine our smiles become
So don't let yourself run too far from your problems
Just tip one back, stand your ground
And, armed with nothing more than a smile,
Solve them




Poetry by David W Durney
Read 701 times
Written on 2008-10-14 at 17:03

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lol Well David you know exactly how easy that is! and cheers to it....What you need is a good partner and when you decide to stop the rot and go look for just that perfect person, then of course they will make every little thing and big thing, alright, but we go through these things for a reason and getting stronger is one. A toast to your rise from what you think, are the ashes of your life....A new beginning....I love your writing, you express the highs and lows of real life so fantastically....mesmerising, smiling at you, Tai
2008-10-14


Rob Graber
I like how the agonizing is interrupted by witty internal rhymes, as in:

Perhaps the hurt that I'm feeling
and the rage that I'm reeling
through will be erased
if I'm shitfaced

(My line breaks to make the point.)

The eighth line from the end's "trainwreck" sounded decidedly suicidal; but then it turned out to refer, apparently, only to the poem (toast) itself. The conclusion is enigmatic: optimistic, but somewhat tritely so... (Hard to be very optimistic without being a pollyanna.) Does the triteness reveal the optimism to be no more than bitter sarcasm? Does the speaker know? Does the poet know? Or is it a well contrived ambiguity?
2008-10-14