The Addicted Heart : Creative Writing

I seemed to be meeting many people who drank a lot .

Most of these people were strangers to me .

A few of them ended up to be friends . I gave them the name Steamboats and we share company a lot even though I am not or ever was an alcoholic . This is a story about them and their addiction . Here is a poem I wrote about them .

Steamboats For Company

It’s a far better place I think,
To be on a steamboat under the drink .
With Davy Jones and all his men ,
Peacefully under the  watch of heaven .
Free at last and better off dead .
No sound of hangovers inside the head
God’s in heaven and all is well .
Steamboats for company under the swell .

Most of the steamboats I once knew have now passed away .They were alcoholics , I have changed some of the real names and would like to share with you a little poem or two about who they were .

During my period of confrontation head on with alcoholics I felt many things . If there was one emotion I felt more than any other it was anger .
I was angry with being badly treated and used and abused .
The alcoholic is usually selfish and aggressive .

There are always exceptions to those people . I met some beautiful people who were alcoholics .

So on the whole I must admit all alcoholics are not all tarred with the same brush .

Some are rich and some are poor . Alcoholics are both men and women . They are young and old , black skinned and and white .Red skinned and yellow

.
Many of the alcoholics I met ended up in shelters and institutions with no one to care for them but the staff who woked in there .Mostly all they cared for was ,  drink .

When I lived rough in London I wrote this poem ,about some of the lonely alcoholics I had got to know .

Londons Lonely Heart

They're locked up in empty rooms,
prisoners inside a shell .
Prisoners within corner blocks,
they're locked up in a cell .
The beggars cry with empty guts,
but no one hears that sound .
Busker's breaking the silence
singing in the underground .
Everyone is lonely
without friends to relate to.
Someone is dying,
someone is crying,
maybe it's you .
London's lonely people the hungry homeless breed .
Indeed.
London's lonely people passing by,
don't take any heed .
London is such a lonely place,
some people just pass through .
Prisoners in their empty rooms
with hearts broken in two .

I suppose when we dig deeper into any situation we uncover dirt .Lets get some of the dirt out in the open  , not to be afraid to talk about it .

So for nearly twenty years it seemed that everywhere I went  I continued to meet  alcoholics and not of my own choice . Time after time I was on my knees before God and asking in prayer Lord why do I keep on meeting these people and the answer came to me like a bolt out of the blue ,

Because I want you to write about them .

Then everything seemed to fit into place .

From the gutter to the street .
From the street to the bed sit flat .
From different homes hospitals and shelters .
In every place I roamed the story remained the same .
The victims of alcoholism and their victims .

The worst kind of victim is the victim of a victim .

There is no excuse for this .

There is only anger and frustration . I needed to see some resolution for the victim of victims but found none .

They are oppressed depressed and persecuted.

They hated by all who cannot understand why they have become a drunk. Most people fail to see behind the cold walls of anger that the Steamboat erects because fragility and insecurity lie there. You will always know a drinker when they come into town form they are always on their own with a bottle in their hand and a clenched fist in the other. They have scars that need to be heard and seen .
Their attitude is a mixture of self-pity and guilt but somehow the alcoholice has a heart if you can only look for it. When you find it you can see the need for a mission of the addicted  heart .
They are an accident of their ancestors.
They are the benefactors of a disease and also the recipients.
Not of their own choice but in a lot of cases the bottle has chosen them.
There are also alcoholics who choose to lead the life of a drunk.
For whatever reason they have self inflicted themselves.
Professional people who live the life of a secret drinker and the social drinkers who fool themselves by drowning their sorrows sometimes end up drowning themselves in their own ocean of regret.  
Many alcoholics I have known have had a family to support them.
Many alcoholics end up leaving their families for the drink.
I hope you can try to see behind their lies and forgive them for becoming
What drink has made them .
I understand that the real truth of their life is one that I have only touched but if the account for wrong doing is in Gods hands surely Christ wept for these
Victims of an addicted heart .

By Doctor Write