Grammatically it’s fewer
But, here, less is truer
Incapacitated
Knee-capitated
One foot in the grave
Good intentions cave
Old habits crave
One leg less
An imbalance to redress
Defatigable
Dominitable
Defeated?
No
First things first
An unquenchable thirst
Don’t bottle it up
Sup
Sup
Sup
At the first sign of danger
Hit out in anger
Punch
Drunk
Down
Sunk
Drowning not swimming
Losing, not winning
Life’s not great
Dripping with hate
A rush
A high
The thrill of the chase
The violent embrace
The blows
The ruck
Who gives a fuck?
Then you run out of luck
Ah well
In a police cell
Again
Not even mad
Just Sad
Unhappy
Time worn
Forlorn
Bit long in the tooth
No longer the youth
Cutting about
Time catches up
The years go by
It’s harder to lie
To pretend to be happy
You can still have a laugh
But it’s sounding hollow
You’re starting to wallow
You can’t stop thinking
In spite of the drinking
You’re losing control
What next?
Do nothing?
Hope it goes away?
Light another candle
There’s shit you can’t handle
That feeling of dread
What’s under the bed
Stays, left unsaid
Better off dead?
Then Joy
Once improbable
Now so possible
New start
New life
Adama
Grounded
And surrounded
By love and affection
Not bad
For a bloke
Who just liked a smoke
And a drink or two
or three, four?
More and more
Never enough
And always too much
He’s angry, don’t touch
That nerve that always seems so exposed
And yet
And yet
Somewhere
Somewhere in there
In the hypodermic-poked bear
There’s care
Vulnerability
Artistic ability
Humour
Humility
Heart of gold.
A mothers son
A Bob Dylan fanatic
An old romantic
Mark Bolan’s tears
Glitter glued
Cryptically clued
Down
Across
No way to predict
The twists and the turns
The chaos
The churns.
But no, actually, rather
A loving Father
A mate
A friend
Put simply,
A man like no other
Ladies and gents:
This is Ian,
My brother.