Robin Williams has checked into rehab to be treated for alcoholism. The 55-year-old actor, known for his heavy drinking in his youth, fell off the wagon after being sober for 20 years. His publicist revealed that Williams had started drinking again and decided to take “proactive measures” to stop himself.
The booze-hounds of the early morning
stalk the halls of fame,
seeking out celebrities
who try to drown their shame
with “a drink or two to get me through”
and a line or eight of coke.
They chase prime meat in Hollywood
before consuming ordinary folk.
The booze-hounds of the emptiness
always find their prey
by listening for a hollow ring
and seeing how much they sway.
They have the run of Hollywood
and don’t show up in lights
but live in pools of shallow darkness
by the red-eyed bill of rights.
The booze-hounds of the wee small hours
howl and hurl and leech
the lifeblood from any celebrity
who slips his minder’s leash.
They are the backside-sniffing alkies
who’ll foul up any nest.
Ruining a clean cut image
is all that they do best.
The booze-hounds of the failing light
keep crawling down the street
waiting for celebrities
to curl up and admit defeat.
They’ve got their teeth into Mel Gibson
but Robin Williams got away.
They hate celebrities with dignity
it ruins the taste of their prey.
The booze-hounds of the greasy dawn
don’t feast solely on the rich
but delight in seeing a celebrity
rolling around like a bitch
in Heat or the National Enquirer
with all their secrets hanging out.
They rub at the legs of the famous
like a bad attack of gout.