God Grant Me Serenity

God Grant Me Serenity

A Poem by Ken e Bujold

I found him toppled over in the lobby

of the St Regis Hotel,

another new year celebrated well

thank god, there's only four

friday's eight months of the year.

An old run down blister

of a fellow watched me heave

him up, over my shoulder

grunted something

I only half heard,

sounded like “God speed you son.”

God grant me the serenity to accept the things

god, god damn, damn god and

all the angels he had

dancing on the head of a pin

crookin' halos of every honest

man down to his last ounce

of courage

come morning he'd be repentant


scrambled eggs and ketchup


grin, “God bless you son.”

God grant me serenity

or a pistol come next friday

the fifth one this month.

Ken e Bujold

© 2022

© 2022 Ken e Bujold

Author's Note

Ken e Bujold
My American friends might think its Bukowski, but really the spirits that channeled this were Canadian icons Milt Acorn and Al Purdy. Should add, its not biographical, but observant of the hard cycle of dependence-enabling alcoholism engenders

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Only Fridays I thought? Hard hitting this one Ken as it's a reminder of some of the men in my own family who are no longer here and should be. The drink killed them. Out of control, it becomes a curse for everyone else. Strong write and relatable.


Posted 2 Months Ago

Ken e Bujold

2 Months Ago

thanks Chirs, glad you could relate. I was on my way to being one of them in my twenties early thirt.. read more
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Was always the thing years ago in construction to go get obliterated straight from work on both Friday eve and Saturday afternoon.
I enjoy this sty!e of writing Ken, perhaps I should have a read of the three fellas mentioned.
Hope you are well

Posted 2 Months Ago

Powerfully rendered portrait in lyric form. Quite the accomplishment.


Posted 2 Months Ago

Ken e Bujold

2 Months Ago

thanks, is lyrical though that wasn't intentional so much as the manner in which it broke forth, try.. read more

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3 Reviews
Added on September 27, 2022
Last Updated on September 27, 2022


Ken e Bujold
Ken e Bujold

Somewhere in Ontario, Canada

Writers write, it's what we do. Fish swim, woodpeckers peck... writers scribble (inside and outside the lines). more..