Monday, May 28, 2012


Alcoholic (spoken word)
By Delroy Nesta Williams

My name is Nesta
And I'm an alcoholic
That flavoured, fermented drink calls to me
Wakes me up in the middle of the night
And says come, come Nesta take a sip
And before I know it, the bottle is empty 
And all that’s left is a pool of green, smelly vomit
Dyed from the walls of my throat and stomach. 

My name is Nesta 
And I'm an alcoholic
But don’t get me wrong
This isn't an apology
Not a cry for you to want to help me, 
But a scream for you to look around you. 
There’s a lot more like me than you think
But they’re so smart at covering up their habit.
The functioning addict, oh so slick
A drink here, a drink there
Mix it up with all kind of juices,
Put it in all kind of treats
Every occasion is a reason for a drink. 

My name is Nesta
And yes, I love to take a sip,
A shot, a throwback or just straight from the bottle. 
Sometimes I don’t even need a reason
I just wash my dreams down my throat. 
But nobody knows
How often I cry inside,
How many times I've tried
To stop!
But the bottle won't leave me alone
It always wants me for company,
Like the weave on a woman’s head
It has become an extension of me.

My name is Nesta
Oh yes, I love the drink
And Johnny is my very best friend
But we don’t take long walks,
Not anymore!
Because once he’s is in my presence
I can hardly function,
I can barely even talk. 
He takes me by the hand
Pours into the glass in my palm
And down my throat he flows
And before I know it
Johnny is no more. 

I am Nesta 
And I'm an alcoholic.
But just ran out of my AA meeting
Because there’s nothing anonymous about my disease.
I know fathers, mothers, politicians, pastors,
Doctors and even lawyers
That share the bottle,
That love the sugar cane juice,
That can’t function without it,
Makes them forget their world of troubles,
Makes them feel “comfortable” with their sins.
They can just pretend nothing even happened
And go on with their lives,
The bottle cures everything for the night.

My name is Nesta
And I’m just like them
And sometimes I pretend,
That I can’t even remember
The things I did the night before. 
But most times I just play dumb
My feelings turning numb
As I look into the eyes of my wife and kids,
And see nothing but disappointment in their faces.
I want to stop, honestly I do
But every night I keep running back to the devil’s brew. 

My name is Nesta
And I’m not the only one, 
There are millions more like me
And if you’re one of them,
The time is now for it to end.
Before the bottle becomes you
And no one can tell the difference between you two!


Anonymous said...

Dats a very nice poem! Excellent work! Keep it up! Mwah

Kereem said...

Good vybes nesta. Keep doing your thing