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Give me some vodka, give me some beer,
pass the Jack Daniels right over here.
I’ll drink me some rum and chug me some wine,
I’ll finish the bottles in record time.
I will drink anything that’s on the table,
I’m always ready, willing, and certainly able.
People say I’m a drunk but I do not agree.
Why is this pink elephant always following me?
I am not addicted to what I like to drink
just because I pass out on the counter
and usually throw up in the sink.
I am not an alcoholic as some people do think
It’s just every once in a while I need to have a drink.
I have heard people talk about the health risks of drinking
how it effects the liver, the kidneys, and the whole process of thinking.
But I don’t really care ’cause it won’t happen to me
’cause all those other people were stupid and just not smart like me.
It’s getting late I must get home.
I leave my good friend’s warm abode
but still I’m in a drinking mode
so I grab a beer just for the road.
That Saturday night I’m driving home
in the car I’m all alone.
I just drank another load
and now that stupid pink elephant is in the road.
I’m swerving left, I’m swerving right
to get that elephant out of sight.
I’m forced to drive into someone’s lawn
to discover magically the pink elephant’s gone.
Next thing I know the cops are there
asking who, what, when, why and finally where.
Some people are there and screaming, “Why?”
“Why did my son have to die?”
I turn my head and what I see
is an alcohol related fatality.
Because of my tendency to drink
a boy’s life went down the kitchen sink.
This boy is dead because of me
and this might break up the whole family.
Why didn’t I listen, why didn’t I see
the grip that alcohol had on me?
“Why couldn’t I just have had less to drink?”
that’s what I keep on telling my shrink.
SuicideEd. Note is now in my head
because I can’t accept the life I have led.
This gun will ensure that I am dead.
But what is the last thing that I do see?
It’s that evil pink elephant staring and laughing at me.
The moral of this story, what I’m trying to say,
is that the unfortunate ending didn’t have to be this way.
Do not drink and drive. It’s not that hard to do—
or this story might not be fiction but might apply to you.
© Scott Swanson, 1999. All rights reserved.
[I am sorry that I don't have a valid e-mail address for Scott.
Scott, please contact me so I can update this page with a working e-mail address for you.]
Scott wrote this poem for a health class and chose alcohol as the subject because his dad is a functioning alcoholic. Scott explains the term ‘functioning’ as “he drinks a lot but he still functions on a normal basis...doesn’t think he has a problem (like they all do) and refuses to seek help.”
EDITOR’S NOTE: Suicide is a temporary feeling and should not be believed or acted upon. It opens up a whole new set of problems, especially for the people you leave behind who will most certainly grieve your permanent absence. Please, whatever your pain or regret, work with a spiritual leader or counselor to resolve your problems. Do not end your life.
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