Colin F. Jones

BEFORE THE BAR

Before the bar with inundated mind,
(servant of silk tongue and its reward)
Mumbled truth in smoke screen, ill defined,
Lingers caught in lie lest it be bored.
Save for the joy on lip and in the eye,
Exaggerated by pearls of liquid drops,
None seem to see potential talent die,
When liquor reigns and rational thinking stops.
There, man is mountain, though weak his base may be,
Like a castle built upon a swamp remote,
Through blurred vision, but falsities to see,
Choke his truth with vomit in his throat.
What was life in looking back afar,
A washed out talent consumed upon a bar