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 Dec 2016 Joshua Michael
JR Potts
I was twenty-four when I first started working at the bar and it was suppose to be a temporary gig. A way to put a couple bucks in my pocket while I searched for a "real job". I never could decide whether I choose the bar or the bar choose me but something about the place felt like home. A belief that would drive my ex up a wall and eventually out the door. She didn't understand my infatuation with the bar, my obsession with its clientele. I came to love its unique aroma of confused souls who wandered in, looking for the missing parts of their whole like they could find it at the bottom of a bottle. The liquor never lied unlike their boss who promised that raise, their spouse who promised to be faithful or the television who told them they weren't important. The ***** promised intoxication and she never failed to deliver on that promise. Maybe, thats why they kept coming. They were looking for the truth they couldn't find in people.
T'was the night before Christmas, And at the back of the bar

Sat a man all alone, Lighting up a cigar

The waitress ran over and waving her hand

You can't do that here, Smoking is banned.

If you must smoke that thing, you can go to the street

And stay away from the building, by at least fifty feet

The man took a puff and with a voice like a croak

He said, "You're kidding, right miss? You're making a joke"

I'm sorry, but sir..I'm afraid that it's true

But the law is the law, and it's not only for you

That we must say **** out, please extinguish your smoke

So our place can be filled with other fine folk

For ninety two years I have walked on this earth,

I have broken no laws and you know what it's worth?

Bupkiss, no nada it's not worth a thing

Would that law still apply if I was a King?

I've been coming in here for 60 odd years

And I think I've consumed a truckload of beers

I've smoked in this corner on many a night

Now you say **** out, I don't think that's right.

I fought for this country at the end of the war

I came home with a war wound, and you know dear...what's more

I came to this bar to have drinks with my friends

Who all weren't so lucky and met terrible ends

They died on the beach, heart as big as a house

Taking on the unknown for their country, their spouse

They battled for honor, the right to be free

And they all weren't as lucky, to come home like me.

I was here in the sixities when Camelot died

I was here with my son, and we both sat and cried

It was that night in November, I remember it well

That my son said he'd joined up and was heading to hell

He had joined the marines and was all set to fight

For freedom and honor and he knew it was right

Because I'd gone before and stood with others like him

And I said just be safe, and come home son...my Jim

In the years he was gone, I came down here to think

Of why he was there and I shared smokes and drinks

With friends, all now gone from this world of distrust

Now they all lie beneath us, decomposed back to dust.

My son made it back and we came right down here

To spend time with our friends, both from far and from near.

The years passed us by and my grandson joined too

And we sat and we prayed in this bar, for we knew

He was fighting for freedom and the rights we hold dear

Like having some fun, over smokes and some beer.

He never came home from his war, don't you see

That's why we're sitting alone here, just you and me

Tonight is the night that his letter arrived

Saying "We regret to inform you...that no one survived"

So, each Christmas Eve I come back to this bar

To savor my memories and to drink from this jar

And I finish each year thinking of what now is gone,

Of my battle scarred boy and his now deceased son

Now, you come and tell me that I must go outside

To continue my smoking and so I'll abide

'cause for 92 years that I've been on this earth

I've broken no laws and you know what that's worth

Then the waitress reached back and she pulled out a match

From a box on the bar with a rusty old catch

She said Sir, I am sorry I didn't mean to offend

For this one night each year, the law I can bend

So please light one for me on this Christmas Eve Night

And Thank you from all who continue the fight.

Merry Christmas and HAPPY NEW YEAR 2019
A Christmas Eve Poem that was posted earlier, I have not added much, but, I think it is fitting to read so those of you who haven't seen my older works, and The Street Poems, may get a chance.
I wont be your cigarette
you wont have me and be done
but I will be your sack of ****
get you higher than the sun

I wont be that **** you flick away and run
but I will be that line that gets you by
and you will do me twice just for fun

I will have you sweating
I will have you begging
you can call me molly
then we will have our wedding

garage, sundress , open bottles I can confess
broken smiles, sad sleeps, I will be your worst dream
you wont puff puff and be done
you wont pass because you will want me till there is none
I will be your sweet addiction
I will be your lovely conviction

I will be the reason your prescription gets written
The last taste on your lips
the sun will forget
but I wont be your cigarette.
 Dec 2016 Joshua Michael
Sydney
I remember the first time you told me that you stopped drinking.
My heart took flight and the idea of having a sober father became the root of my happiness.
You got drunk that night.

I remember the first time you let me down.
I stood alone among my peers because you had better things to do.
You got drunk that night.

I remember the first time I slit my porcelain skin open for you.
As blood trickled from my veins I begged you to come and rescue me from the demons in my mind.
You got drunk that night.

I remember the first time I tried to put an end to all the madness that engulfed my life.
I grabbed your gun from the safe and shot a bullet through my head.
I will never know if you got drunk that night.
You probably did.

— The End —