Poet-aholic

A friend called me a poet-aholic...    
   
They aren’t wrong    
you won’t find any denial here    
Just call me an addict    
and no need to keep it anonymous    
   
I drink up people’s organized words    
like they’re on tap    
sitting on my favorite bar stool    
eagerly waiting    
for my beloved  poetic barkeep    
to poor me another round    
   
Shot after shot    
until my head is spinning with imagery    
and my liver is drowning in metaphors    
Stumbling all over myself    
yet somehow seeing a clearer picture    
and an illuminated path through darkness    
   
Sometimes they come in a tall glass    
allowing me to take my time, and savor    
the flavors in my mind    
Other times, I snort short lines    
of crystallized truisms    
chasing the dragon of a creative surge    
   
I can’t get enough of this intoxicating ink    
I want to mainline it into my veins    
Embracing the high, feeling the rush    
of emotional conjurations followed by    
feelings released    
Providing escape from my realities and    
temporary sedation of pain    
Finding validation in shared experiences    
and gaining insight from fresh perspectives    
   
Itching and scratching for more    
the come down is real, my friends    
needing another quick fix    
I am at the mercy of my benevolent  dealers    
   
So many poets sharing their musings    
serving up wisdom from tattered schematics and broken dreams    
exposing their vulnerabilities for me to behold    
Allowing me the the privilege to lurk    
Respectfully, curiously peering    
Into their hearts    
becoming acquainted with fragments    
of their soul    
Some allowing our demons to entangle, providing a much needed social reprieve    
   
I’m a junky for poetic truths    
that hit close to home    
for the moments you feel connected    
to a random soul    
who is able to articulate what you feel    
better than you    
For those brief moments you’re reminded    
you are not alone in the vastness    
For the poetic lifelines that keep me from drowning in seas of misery    
   
And the moments that shine light    
into my darkened soul    
providing me hope    
and courage to fight on    
giving me the extra bump    
needed to press on    
while the sands of time quickly pass    
   
It’s an addiction that indeed messes    
with your mind    
But instead of taking life it gives animation  
to words and ideas    
The goal is to spread beauty through both    
the light and the dark    
the poet is not here to boast or kill it’s host    
And unlike the hard stuff    
that eats away at your soul over time    
   
poetry feeds mine  
 
CHEERS! May we never come down...