I wonder what its like to look at a mirror, stare at your reflection and not want to reject it
Eject it into a vat of ether so it burns slow like tuna casserole
I know i shouldn't be writing about these things but its been haunting me since i was 16
Still young and somewhat pristine but no one went my way like cards on a riverboat, I've hid that feeling for a long time with an overcoat
Made of self deprecation and little derivation from that formula of running from things i cant see, but you cant avoid your own feelings
When they hammer into you like nails on a wall,
Its a winder I'm still standing up posted like a ghostbuster in city hall...

I wouldve been gone years ago, bur music saved me y'all.

We sat there at the bar were I always preferred to hold court .
"Hey man Rebecca tell's me you write".

The young kid said as he took a seat next to me .
"If you can call it that then yes I do bud".

"Well to be honest when Rebecca told me that I looked up your work ", "Your style isn't my cup of tea but you are a skilled writer".

"Oh yeah I'm Brandon by the way ".

The young kid said sticking out his hand .
I shook and braced myself for whatever boredom I was about to endure .

"So you write also I take it or you just a critic"?.

"Oh I'm no critic I write but I write science fiction it's simply a more free forum to me with endless possibilities ".

Wonderful I thought to myself not only am I sitting next to someone who thinks there a writer they have to be a godammed science fiction writer!

"Do you ever read science fiction"?

"Not if I can help it".

"Oh why is that "?

I took another swing of beer decided to light a cigarette maybe the smoke would drive this mosquito of a person away.

"Bud I will be honest I write what I know , "And time travel and space ships and bio mechanics is just a little out my depth you see".

"Well it can get complex I suppose ".

"Well kid honestly if I have to spend five chapters explaining the environment and setting up the story I've already lost interest".

"Yes but the freedom it gives the writer is without limits the pallet is so vast".

"I'm happy just staying in my corner kid and I am no painter so I prefer a page to a canvas".

"Well I think you would really like my work maybe I could share some with you sometime".

"I'm good bud".

I ordered another beer the kid beside me just kept silent least for a second .

I kind of felt like a prick so I told the bartender grab one for my friend here .

I was a asshole but anyone who had the balls to put themselves out there still was owed a ounce of respect even if I didn't dig there style .

"Hey thanks is it okay if I call you Jack"?.

"It's my name bud so feel free".

We sat there spoke about the flustrations of publishers and rejection slips all the normal bullshit that goes along with writing .

"Jack how did you break through"?
"  I Mean you get published you get read how did you do it"?

"It's no secret kid ,I just kept writing through the bullshit ".

"You see eventually if you dont go away and your work is good someone will say yes ".

"It's no different than chasing women , You take a room of fifty women you ask every single one of them to dance someone's going to say yes ".

"I thought all women love to dance ".

"Most yes ,But not all and usually its more appealing from far better looking men".

The kid laughed and replied well I guess you got a point there .

"Jack you ever think about writing about more than just booze and chasing women "?

"Nope ".

"It just seems so limited give me the moon and stars worlds unknown that's the sight I yern to see".

I laughed as the bartender sat two beers down took my money off the bar and stared at her nice round ass as she walked away to get my change.

"Kid you can have the moon and stars I'm doin just fine with the view down here".

Britney Lyn Sep 7

Our minds are a prison but the difference between yours and mine is I built my bars. Others built yours.

It’s a bar like this:
Smashed in Bud lite cans, Hennessey bottles half emptied.
Cable TV, static at high volume,
Re-runs of Seinfeld and
Occasionally the game.

Men in sweats, men in tuxes, men in rags,
Men in company jackets.
Bonded and connected by their mutual friend Jack
And their ex-lover Brandy.

It’s a bar like this:
Bartenders sniffing coke, pouring
3 parts orange juice, 1 part vodka, 2 parts water.
Posters hanging with hooters girls and
Kate Upton.

Smells of defeat and destruction emanate to the street,
The sign swings crooked, uncared for, untouched.
Broken in windows, lined with blackened wood panels
Creatively decorated with graffiti

Lightbulbs act like lightening bugs,
Never illuminating on command.
Plumbing rattles, toilets overflow,
One woman stands alone.

It’s a bar like this:
Two men swear and hiss,
Breaking a table in two.
Chairs part like the red sea,
Bets are placed.

Occasionally, some stray wanders in,
Testing out the waters,
Coughing up nicotine and tar,
holding his door frame crutch.

Scratchy hand towels and oily soup,
Sink bowls re-rusted.
McDonald’s bags liter the stained tiles,
Enjoying rat company.

It’s a bar like this:
Over enthusiastic boss hiring
Sixteen year olds,
Blondes only,
No criminal record.
Eviction notices used as placemats and
Electric bill coasters.
Been open since 1975 but
Even then
it was a bar like this.

written for CW350A; prompt was "in a bar like this..."
Ceyhun Mâhî Jun 21

Drinkers of devilish drinks at times of night,
Are drinking nightly, behind bars imprisoned.

We sit down
At the Bar

You remark on
My posture

We order
Your favorite

Jack and

We sling
Them back

Double Shots
Burning my belly

Your eyes fill
With disbelief

I can see
The photographs flash

In front of

School Pictures
Prom Photos


All Stacked up
Underneath this very


My eyes roll
Away from sentimentality

Laughing it

I order
Two more

I can hear you
Tell me to


As if
Recorded into

A Broken

Even now
I’m still

Your Baby

As My
Vision Doubles

Your Smile

As One

your voice

Seems to grow

My throat begins
To burn

Feeling myself
Crying out

Over a space
Much more vast

Than the distance

Our two

Before I misplace
Myself Completely

Catch me

Your other Half
Your little twin

I will
Not be


We are


As I blink
To see you

My blear

I see you


Mirroring my moves
To put me at ease

But your

Have lost

Your color
No longer

Changes in
The light

You pull your
Hands away

Not wanting to
Make me


Insisting I’m

My clammy


Just in




I snatch it

Staring at
Your smile

That always


Flipping it

I tried to

When you had

This photo
You could never

Have known

I refuse
The answer

Wary of the lies
You will believe  

When you
Split drinks

With A Memory.

Mad Dog Apr 23

The devils in the bottle .
Well if that's so I've been searching forty years it feels and I haven't found that some of a bitch yet.

Probably herd bout my reputation.
Smoke pills coke and I don't mean cola .

I see the yuppies in the bar who admire crazy they buy me a.drink thinking we are friends.
The booze hits you all the same so.guess its better on anothers  tab.

Real bars are dying being replaced by companies pretending to be bars instead of companies void of any soul.

If your favorite dive is some.yuppie infested family friendly overpriced resteraunt go fuck yourself and have a nice day.

Give me  smokey dark local dives with.names like the Brown Derby ,The Thirsty Camel,The Shipwreck Inn,The Purple Onion and Monks .

Those places have character they have bloodshed there dirty dangerous on a good night and perfect.

Corperate America sucks .
Wallmarts on every corner killing the landscape putting the little man in the poor house everything's perfect least.that's what they have you believe

Never swallow bullshit that the media feeds .
There's more truth told between old vets down at the legion between beer and smokes .

Its out there still.
Away from the polwish the yuppies so desire .
Where men still get there hands dirty get drunk sleep and repeat .

This is my world the rich stand upon the backs of the poor with there two faced logic ever so quick to preach.

I bleed the past and I love the small places and backroad gems that they would so quickly destroy and replace .

But what do i.know Im just a drunk .

Nothing worth a shit is safe .
Art,Drugs and sex .
All take passion not a timeshare or membership or mini van .

Computers are a drug that's blinded us to human contact breeding hate sitting on your ass talking shit behind a screen name.

Get into a real fight then tell me how great your Twitter war was.
The fools are many so don't add to there a mass of idiots and clubs are for lemmings .

Take a ride let the music and the wind embrace the void.
Breathe life into yourself before you approach that page .

If your real then take up a seat beside me.and I will buy you a drink.

Get off your ass and experience life before some.idiot in a suit destroys that flawed landscape that makes us unique flawed and beautiful in every sense.

See you at the bar .

Cné Apr 7

the club is not the place to be
so the bar is where you'll find me
with my girlfriend doing shots
scanning the room and catching nods

your eyes hang in the smoky air
come on over, if you dare
trust me, I'll give you a chance
surely you see that, in my glance

my friend and I are laughing like girls do
my magnetic eyes push and pull at you
starring, you haven't looked away
I can see the interest, you convey

another shot the bartender places
confused, he gestures and your glass raises
I smile as my girlfriend whispers, he's cute
toasting you, we lift our shots and shoot

I won't beg you to on come over
but it's only wasting time until you come closer
the possibilities, I foresee
I'm already in love with your body

in confidence, over you saunder
in my mind the question, I ponder
obviously I see, you're in to me
but what about my friend... are you into three?

Just thinking out loud. Lol
Paula Sullaj Mar 12


  AM   The  windows  have railings,    W 
   I    Which are protected by a wall  I

      AS   Outside  lays the entire world   TH  

M  Y             D  E  M  O  N  S

Love is how you want it to be
Nateive Son Mar 8

People probably wonder,
Why I'm obsessed with Death Grips and,
Computer blips,
VPNs and all sorts,
Of tech wizard stuff.

I'm not,
To tell you the truth,
I'm obsessed with freedom,
And my spirituality melding into nature,
Like how primitive man understood God,
Before the books and dogma.

I think about it,
Like being a prisoner,
Obsessed with what chemicals,
Will melt the bars,
And allow me to,
Run through the meadows once again.

An old new quote:

"Hacking is not a crime,
It is the art of awareness."

So here we are in the open air prison,
Of our society,
And if we meet out in the yard,
I will whisper in your ear,
"I know a place where we can be alone,"
Just like Winston and that girl,
In 1984.

Who am I?

I'm a schmuck,
Just like you.

And I wish you love and peace,
From the bottom of my heart.

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