Coping Mechanisms

Freedom isn't found

Within a glass, be it

Filled with whisky or 

Beer, not even wine,

For it is all a 

Temporary escape

From the harsh reality

Of life, and when one

Is done they must go 

Out and face it



In truth, to have

A coping mechanism

Is a crutch, for it

Keeps us from 

Facing our problems,

Our monsters, head on

As we strive to defeat

Them, to send them

Into the abyss, 

Never to rise or

See daylight



And yet

It is pleasurable

To forget for a time

The aches and the

Worries of life, 

The wisdom of 


Who preach to the

Choirs of 


Author's Notes/Comments: 

Apparently I'm philosophical even when drunk. 

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nightlight1220's picture

It's all about finding a life

It's all about finding a life strategy that suits your uniqueness best. I am like a bee. I sip nectar from all different strategies at different times, at times even using the ground I fall hard and fast on to lift me even higher... Variety is the spice of life, you know? 


But truly....I am very sensitive and have the ability to become intoxicated easily by anything I choose. Does that make me a choice addict? ;-) 


Love your writes.



...and he asked her, "do you write poetry? Because I feel as if I am the ink that flows from your quill."

"No", she replied, "but I have experienced it. "


ReilaMorello's picture

To Bee or not to Bee.

Being a Bee strikes me as a lovely thing to Be, for were you not, no one else would have any honey. And without honey there would be no Mead.


And thank you! I'm glad you enjoy the writes. =)

allets's picture


My relatives drink it by the barrel

full. We lost a lot of time with them

and the problems went no where.

We just kept throwing out the

empties. The last drop was the little

freedom they ever knew. Escapism

was lifestyle, not time out.


I like a little whisky in tea

or coffee, or straight, with soda

as if there is a need to warm

the mind for an hour or or less.

Escapism comes in writing

sci-fi novels, with a fluted

glass on the side for company.


Wine slows down th busy

pace of highly strung poets

who want to change the

universe, who do not

own sufficient math to

reach the nearest star

or the nearer moon.










ReilaMorello's picture


I drink for pleasure,

The wonder of taste,

My family drinks to try to erase

All their pain and confusion, 

To find absolution.

As one might say,

"They get completely shit-faced."


There are other forms of escape, 

That is quite true, 

Most of them harmless

For me and you.

And that is quite fine!

It's just drawing the line

Between a heavy drinker

Who is a casual thinker,

And the heavy thinker 

Who is a casual drinker,

Occasionally requires red tape.


Sometimes they're both

And sometimes they're not.

But either way, really, 

You've got what you've got.