Alice's Adventures on Temazepam

Gold cherry

By Michael Valentine

Sat, 04 Apr 2015
  • 804 reads
3 comments
 
Alice’s Adventures On Temazepam
 
We fell ungraciously amorous in our pre-fab construction
The winter offering only a new take on the Messiah
Alice, the clouds are promising a rough old season
Where fog and thunder will dull all sentiments of parliamentary treason
And the bulldozers make way for only unhappy thoughts
Contentment in monogamy, from which the night was fraught
In the cold air, a twist, my blood ran rivers, hot
As Alice groped for my body’s warmth desperate not to lose me
In the distant dark I whispered, “We’ll see a doctor next Tuesday”
Please don’t resist
If symptoms persist
 
Like her father the snow lies
And makes her feel nothing but a chill in her bones
It hangs around for a few days until, without a goodbye,
It drifts away to wherever the wind blows
 
To haveth and to scold, should you require any further instructions
Climb out onto the shanty balcony and contact your Messiah
Alice, scream into the abyss for lovers, doctors and dealers
Tell the fog and thunder, bellow blunderbuss shells of how you’re feeling,
And snake your tongue around the crane, painting unhappy thoughts
Swallow your sweeties or shoot your shots
If symptoms persist then gobble the lot
Drink cold tomato-soup and get under the duvet
Embrace the nightmares and come out fresh next Tuesday
I must insist
If symptoms persist
 
 
Alice’s breasts lap like rough gelatine waves, shallowed by obstruction
There’s blood on my hands, scarlet, but I am not the Messiah
Her eyes are stony, her pelvis, bony, I’ve found a pulse but she’s not breathing
And maybe this isn’t all me talking but there’s a white light in the clearing
The glow is fluorescent bright, silent is the night so goodbye, unhappy thoughts
Fín, it’s game over, tragic epitaph, now off you pop
And, Alice, please don’t resist if you meet the wrong God
Just ask him to cancel my prayers for blessed luck next Tuesday
I have books and a bed and medicine if the weather gets too gloomy
But you will be missed
If symptoms persist
 
Like the snow, here she lies
As if her treacle-tart eyes had never shone
So here I sit, skies weeping, waning and when I say goodbye
It’ll be a gift no-one asked for, wrapped in a bow
Certificate 15
Poem
White Lines and Black Rhymes
Romance
Drama
Miscellaneous

Comments

Submitted by Philip Sidney on

Coldly tragic.

Submitted by Ed Crane on

I find this excellent poem a perfect example of the pleasures, temptations, dangers and ultimate hopelessness of drug use. You spell it out well here, as you do in other poems you have written.

 

Submitted by Insertponceyfre... on

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