by Kurt Kemp

Created on: August 02, 2009

Whiskey & Words

I sat down the other night with some words I had that stayed
They came to me slowly at first and approached me quite dismayed
They told me they were thirsty with a need to be heard
So I sat down with them and listened to every word

The words said, "Son, can I wet my whistle here?"
I said, "Fine sir, but round here we don't fool with beer"
So as I poured those words a shot of Jack in a dirty glass

They reminded me several times of how they'd kicked my ass

With a cynical tone of voice those words reminded once more
'Bout the fighting nights passed out dead drunk on the barroom floor
The words spoke of passion, desire and a hard lived life
'Bout losing everything we had ...a house, kids, and wife

Then choked up on emotion of memories of yesterday
Those words asked for another shot or they'd have nothing more to say
The words and I drank shot after shot till the bottle ran dry
So I pulled out the flask n' gave it another try

So who cares for whiskey or words that come slowly?
I think that neither of them knows me they just pretend
They're like fair weather friends when my life upon them depends
I need something more existent
Maybe something longer lasting and persistent

So until that day comes as life writes its legend with words of suffering and glory
The words and I think plot after plot like dreamers of dreams in a story
The words and I drink shot after shot like old-time friends
Soon we'll have forgotten where the beginning was and won't find the end

Learn more about this author, Kurt Kemp.
Click here to send this author comments or questions.