Val enjoys writing prose in rhymes by always leaving a message of a life truism in each piece.
So we use alcohol, drugs, fancy clothes, possessions -- anything just to create a little myth of our happiness, maybe even character and cool appearance. Then we also play a role, and if we can't think of anything original, well, there are plenty to choose from for a "role model".
Now, while I am writing this, as if I can hear a reader or two protest: "Hey dude, don't be a spoiler trying to ruin the only game we can genuinely play!"
How true, we've been playing our impostors' games for so long that they feel like genuine expressions of who we are. Without that socially motivated self-image, our very survival instinct would start sounding its alarm signals, because we would feel stripped of all self-preserving strategies in this dog-eat-dog world.
Well, I got these three pieces of my rhymed prose that follow; so, if I haven't succeeded to ruin your mood with this introduction, feel free to torture yourselves with this pseudo-poetry of mine.
After Cigarette Smoke Settled Down
I could still remember that certain overly stern dude
who, seeing me smoke said "smokers are phony"
but he was always in some critical, crappy mood
so I took that remark as just full of a baloney.
Now that decades have passed how I don't smoke
and I see all chemical crutches as a fake cool
my "steady smoker's nerves" were a joke
as I was just a pathetic addicted fool.
Quitting was like dying, like one day at a time
without it my personality felt like full of bluffing
it was like committing some unforgivable crime
in that life void of lighting - up and crazy puffing.
But that was not me, and the dude was right
now I see all addicts with those same eyes
killing an addiction is truly worth the fight
so we don't feel like merely a disguise.
It's been even longer that I quit all booze
even my coffee, all in cold turkey fashion
suddenly to face that every lame excuse
for not seeking in life a healthier passion.
Facing my truth was a push for this new quest
I call it spiritual for exploring the me-unknown
looking for a version of me closer to my best
after abandoning that phony comfort zone.
Love is in any religion most prominent word
but what do we see after millennia of its use
global hate making religions a sheer absurd
no deities to change us since Ares and Zeus.
On Sundays we go to the regular mass
Mondays we go on to hate with passion
to demonize, to curse, mock, and harass
in every available and imaginable fashion.
Reminds of "The Godfather", movie telling all
with mobsters appearing religious and true
but killing as if an answer to a divine call
with religious leaders giving same clue.
With a cross in one hand and a sword in other
we practice our faith which history can prove
lying by calling every human being a brother
unable to jump out of that hypocrisy groove.
It's like we just reserve a moment for prayer
imagining it will wash our soul of every sin
giving Jesus on Crucifix a prolonged stare
but still with boiling blood under our skin.
As for me, I've been told to be closer to God
than many a run out of the mill religious freak
my love for the mankind maybe appearing odd
but it's been cultivated privately, being my unique.
So you won't hear me ever preach of love out loud
about God, about angels, and a message divine
I'm not really mingling with any religious crowd
for, my kind of loving doesn't need a shrine.
The "Alcoholics Unanimous" Pledge: A Satire
"Let there be light! -- said almighty God
and beer got created smooth and "light"
with all drunk believers giving it the nod
once more delighted at their God's might.
Sober ones might call them losers
maybe just jealous about their highs
scared to enlist among happy boozers
the excuse being full of some cheap lies.
So, let those rivers flow of that blessed wine
that nectar from gods and goddesses alike
what's more noble goal than feeling fine
achieving that outlandish mood spike.
Those taking care of our national wellbeing
should be people with a "spirited" vision
as spirits guide them to easy agreeing
and no happy drunk causes division.
And the weaker our will, the easier we follow
let our bottle stash remain our holy shrine
even with heads pickled and hollow
let us all stick to our good wine.
© 2021 Val Karas