Old Resolutions
by Sam M. Phillips

Morning beers,
Steers me clear of my fears,
The spirit hears me as I call,
I fall into its arms,
It farms the loose pieces of my brain,
Sorts out the tiny pains,
Strains and sorts out,
About face,
Race away from reality,
I try not to think of my calamity,
No finality,
I’m a work in progress,
I have an edge to protect,
Detect flaw
Just to ignore,
I bore me,
So sore to be free,
No law preventing me,
I try to push on stoically,
But the demon’s provoking me,
Stoking me like a fire,
Hoping I’ll burn up higher,
Town crier tells two stories,
One of a man trying to do well,
And another trying to throw everything away,
They can’t stay together,
In each moment one takes over,
Closest lover,
Other passed over,
Two bickering halves,
Nothing saves,
Path paves,
Lunatic craves,
Caves in again,
Smoke and drink,
Stink up my thinking,
Liking wrong idea to wrong idea,
Here and there,
I fair better,
Still fetter away heaps,
Leaps and bounds,
Still astounds,
The speed with which I succeed to sink,
To blinker my old resolutions,
Not so long ago,
We know the message was different,
Distant passage,
Massage the truth
And make your own proof.

***

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