raise your glass

peace,
it comes not from love, patience,or kindness.
it comes not from jesus, the bible, or a preacher.

peace?
our peace, our quiet, our content-
comes froma bottle.

anger is soothed away by petrol,
as it slithers down his thirsty throat.
arguments set sail with captain morgan,
as she carelessly laughs through her pina calada.

he drinks to keep his cool,
she drinks to keep her husband;
maragarita in one hand, white flag in the other,
it seems they have given up on life;
on eachother.

but they were forgetting us,
the middlemen.
what are we to do?
what are we to say?
when we see them slipping into the sunset,
leaving us in the distant grey.

yet the peace is kept,
tempers are kept cool.
and a false sense of happiness seems to engulf us all.
they hold eachothers hands again,
and once again they gaze into eachothers eyes.

raising their glasses they raise a toast:
to happiness.
to love.
to peace.