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rowdy lee May 11
I'll look at a kid girl across the bar
and will fall in love with her -

what's that
in her eyes
*******
what's that? -

at that moment

there is a new order in the printer

and I have to make a drink
Kay Reed Jan 2016
If you asked the locals, they'll tell you to watch out; "She has a tendency to set things on fire and then walk a fair distance away to watch them burn," the women at the pastry shop will tell you in a hushed voice. "I'm not talking about things like paper, or logs, or houses. Her arson is worse. Typically its the hearts of those who tried to love her that she's likely to set aflame." And then under her breath she'll warn you, "keep an eye out for that one and keep a fire extinguisher handy."

If you asked the bartender at the bar two blocks down and one block left of the apartment she used to live in, he'll look up from the ***** glass he's watching and shake his head. "She's a wild one. Some days she'll show up with a book, sometimes a pen and paper. More often than not, though, she'll walk in with a blank face and order a double shot of Jameson. I mean I know she's got Irish blood, but I've never seen a grown man shoot whiskey like that with a straight face. The **** doesn't phase her." He'll finally dry off that glass and set it on the counter and ask you what you'll have that evening. And you'll order a double shot of that Irish whiskey just for the sake of irony. "She's somethin' else, man. Drinks her coffee black." He'll shake his head again and then direct his attention to the red head at the end of the bar.

Oh, but if you ask her mother...if only you asked her mother. She'd tell you, "She's always been a little lost. Her soul never rested for long. Doesn't say much anymore. Never home much, either. Not sure where she goes or what she spends her time doing, but I hope it makes her happy. She's been gone awhile. Mentally, I mean." And then she'll look out the window of the front room, her hands wrapped so tightly around her coffee mug her knuckles will turn white, and a look will pass over her face. And you'll wonder if heartbreak is genetic, if it was passed through generations, or if it was just a learned trait.

Because you have seen that look before, on the face of her daughter when you first mentioned all those years ago how you thought you loved her. And you'll feel a tiny pull in the center of your chest. And you'll wonder if maybe you'll run into her by chance on the corner of 14th and Clay street, or at that coffee shop she always took you to.

Or maybe you'll be going through your closet at the start of next fall, and pull out an old jacket you retired when spring rolled around and find some relic of her in the pocket. Maybe an empty cigarette pack, or a pen cap, or a crumpled up napkin with a doodle in the corner that most would throw away, but you'll fold it up and stick it in your wallet for memory's sake. She'd hate the sentiment of it, but love the irony.

If you asked, and if she answered honestly, she'd tell you she never wanted anything substantial, she always hated having a lease, or a car payment, or a tab (she'd always pay on her way out, on the off chance she never came back). She'll tell you she just wanted some freedom. But in the freedom she ended up with, a little string got tied around her ankle. She never knew what the other side was tied to.

And when you hear about this string, you'll remember that little tug you feel in your chest every once in awhile when you know she's on the highway headed towards another city for the weekend with no phone and a few hundred dollars cash. She was never one for leaving a trail.
Bartender:
In my father’s bar, there are two chairs.  
In one is a man named Logus,
Who came from The Desert of Nine Valleys;
In the other is a song-less musician named Sparrow.

Day after day
Alone in the bar
The man with the foolish grin
Is keeping perfectly still.
But nobody wants to know him,
They can see that he's just a fool.

He wandered very far,
Very far,
Over land and sea.
A little shy,
And sad of eye,
But very wise was he.
And then one day,
One magic day he looked Logus' way.
And while they spoke of many things,
Fools and kings,
This he said to him:

Sparrow:
Good morrow to thee, brother prisoner.
Do you realize that you have the most beautiful face?
Do you realize we're floating in space,
Do you realize that happiness makes you cry
And
Do you realize that everyone you know someday will die?

Logus:
These are
All lies and jests.

Sparrow:
Still a man hears what he wants to hear
And disregards the rest.
Now,
Drop your guard, you don't have to be smart all of the time.
I've got a mind full of blanks, I need to go somewhere new fast.
And don't be shy, oh no,
At least deliberately.

What was I saying?
Oh yeah.
Let me tell you a story that's sad but true,
About someone who just may remind you of you.
Let me tell you a tale that may help you awake a woozy head-
"I'll buy you a drink!"
-It begins long ago on a happy day,
With a fool who was loved, but threw it all away,
Who exchanged a good home for a flophouse, a bar and a plank-

Logus:
While we're on the subject,
Could we change the subject now?

My name is Logus,
I'm carrying the wheel.
Thanks for all you've shown us,
But this is how we feel.
Come sit next to me.
Pour yourself some tea.
Just like Grandma made,
When we couldn't find sleep.
Things were better then,
Once but never again.
We've all left the den
Let me tell you about it:

I am just a poor boy
Though my story's seldom told.
I have squandered my resistance.
for an existence,
In which
Ever anyone discovers exactly what the Universe is for
And why it is here,
It will instantly disappear
And be replaced by something even more bizarre
And inexplicable.

Sparrow:
You know, there is another theory which states
That this has already happened.
And you lived that,
In exchange for a pocket full of mumbles,
Such are promises.

Logus:
And? I am still alive.

Sparrow:
Geez, you know
Somebody once asked, "could I spare some change for gas?"
I need to get myself away from this place."
I said, "yep what a concept,
I could use a little fuel myself,
And we could all use a little change."
Too bad
A fake Jamaican took every last dime with that scam.
It was worth it just to learn some sleight of hand.
Bad news comes, don't you worry even when it lands,
Good news will work its way to all them plans.

But the building's not going as we planned.
The foreman has injured his hand.
The dozer will not clear a path.
The driver swears he learned his math.

Logus:
You talk in maths.
You buzz like a fridge.
You're like a detuned radio.

Sparrow:
You'll never be what is in your heart.
Weep little lion man,
You're not as brave as you were at the start.
You have a heart that's full up like a landfill,
A job that slowly kills you,
And bruises that won't heal.
You look so tired, unhappy.
Such pretty houses,
And such pretty gardens:
Green plastic water-cans
For fake Chinese rubber plants
In the fake plastic earth.

There's an empty space inside our hearts
Where the weeds take root.
And now I'll set you free,
I'll set you free.

Logus, narrating:
We both left right on time,
The Sparrow accosted my mind.
The Sparrow said,
"Hey man, we go all the way"
Of course, we were willing to pay.
Back to the street,
Down to our feet.
Losing the feeling of feeling unique,
Do you know what I mean?

Well on the way,
Head in a cloud,
The bird of a thousand voices
Talking perfectly loud.
But I never heard him
Or the sound he appeared to make.
And he never seemed to notice.
But the fool on the hill
Sees the sun going down,
And the eyes in his head
See the world spinning 'round.
Of course, everyone goes crazy
Over such and such and such.
We made ourselves a pillar
We just used it as a crutch.
We were certainly uncertain
At least, I'm pretty sure I am.
Well, we didn't need the water
But we just built that, good *******.

For we have found both freedom and safety in our madness;
The freedom of loneliness
And the safety from being understood,
for those who understand us
Enslave something in us.

But let me not be too proud of my safety.
Even a Thief in a jail is safe from another thief.

Logus to Sparrow:
I keep myself in
To pull myself out.
I'm rising up,
Wish I was sinking down.
And it's not like
There was warning
We were happy.
And it's not like
There was mourning
In the warning.

I guess I am a scout.
So I should find a way out.
So everyone can find a way out.

I know I am a scout.
I should've found a way out.
So everyone can find a way out.

Driver Sparrow:
Well, that is that and this is this.
Will you tell me what you saw and I'll tell you what you missed
when the ocean met the sky. (You missed, you missed)
You wasted life, why wouldn't you waste the afterlife?

Drift all you like,
From ocean to ocean,
Search the whole world.

And you find your destination
With so many different places to call home.
'Cause when you find yourself a villain,
In the story you have written
It's plain to see
That sometimes the best intentions
Are in need of redemption.
Would you agree?
If so, please show me.

These thoughts and the strain you're under
Be a world child, form a circle
Before we all go under
And fade out again and fade out again

Logus:
Turn me on to phantoms,
I follow to the edge of the earth.
And fall off.
Everybody leaves
If they get the chance,
And this is my chance.

My shadow's shedding skin
I've been picking scabs again
I'm down, digging through
My old muscles, looking for a clue

I've been crawling on my belly
Clearing out what could've been
I've been wallowing in my own confused
And insecure delusions
For a piece to cross me over
Or a word to guide me in
I wanna feel the changes coming down
I wanna know what I've been hiding

Logus narrating:
My eyes are the size of the moon,
I could 'cause I can so I do.
I'm feeling so good,
Just the way that I do
When it's nine in the afternoon.

Logus's inner voice:
So you think you're a Romeo?
Playing a part in a picture-show?
Cause you're the joke of the neighborhood!
Why should you care if you're feeling good?
Take the long way home!
Take the long way home.

[A trilling ends his conversation,
And it's his wife, Para
Calling, concerned]
Para:
Hello? Hello? Hello?

Is there anybody in there?
Just nod if you can hear me
Is there anyone at home?
Come on now
I hear you're feeling down
Well I can ease your pain
Get you on your feet again
Relax
I'll need some information first
Just the basic facts
Can you show me where it hurts?
Please don't
**** yourself for recognition.
**** yourself to never ever stop.
oh no!
You broke another mirror!
You're turning into something you are not.

Come home!
I'll bake you a cake
Made of all their eyes.
Do you see me
Dressed for the ****?

Logus, thinking to himself:
I know she's looking kind of dumb with her finger and her thumb
In the shape of an "L" on her forehead.

Her eyes are the size of the moon,
she could 'cause she can so she does.
We're feeling so good
Just the way that we do
When it's nine in the afternoon.

Para:
But you'll still
**** yourself for recognition,
**** yourself to never ever stop.
You broke another mirror,
You're turning into something you are not.

And that's okay

I got a box full of all your pity.
We're fresh out of tissues
Because on them I wrote a comedy,
I wrote a comedy.

Logus:
Sorry, but
I'll take a quiet life,
A handshake of carbon monoxide.

With no alarms and no surprises,
No alarms and no surprises,
No alarms and no surprises,
Silent, silent.

Tell me what to do!
Now the tank is dry.
Now, this wheel is flat.
And you know what else?
Guess what I received
In the mail today?
Words of deep concern
From my little brother:

Logus, thinking of the letter:
Weep for yourself, my man,
You'll never be what is in your heart
Weep little lion man,
You're not as brave as you were at the start.
Rate yourself and rake yourself,
Take all the courage you have left
Wasted on fixing all the problems that you made in your own head,
you'll never settle any of your scores.

I backed my car into a cop car the other day.
Well, he just drove off - sometimes life's okay.
I ran my mouth off a bit too much, ah what did I say?

Well, you'll just laugh it off and it'll be okay.
it'll be okay.
Everybody needs a place to call their home.
Everybody needs someone to call their own.
Even when you're lonely, know you're not alone,
You're one of us.

[Logus's attention turns back to para.]

Para:
Please hold on hope, don't choke
On the noose around your neck
And find strength in pain
And change your ways
Know your name as it's called again.

Logus:
Phew!
For a minute there
I lost myself, I lost myself
Phew, for a minute there
I lost myself, I lost myself.

Sparrow:
And if you could be what you wanted,
If you could be who you wanted
All the time,
All the time.

And now I'll set you free,
I'll set you free.
These quotes are taken from various songs and poems.
Tizzop Dec 2019
"hell yeah?" the burglar asked the pusher.

(the burglar: wirily, ambitious. plain appearance, dressed in black.
the pusher: wealthy, strong and well-conditioned. sumptuous leather jacket.)

"hell yeah", the pusher answered. "now i got what i like and you got what you need."

both grinned. after a day of extensive work, they relaxed in a hellish pub. it was visited by diplomatic creatures whose faces were recognizable like shadows.
this pub was called babylon 8.

the burglar and the pusher touched glasses to celebrate their deal. they drank.

"nothing to be written down",
the pusher added. burglar nodded. voices of the diplomatic creatures surrounding them; satanic sighs; bold laughter; their sentences sounded like orders that are dictated by judges.
  
snakes and rats. gravelpitbulls and red cats. creatures with excellent memory. guys who swallow their plans after they had learned them by heart.

a while later, a lady entered the pub: adorable like a man's fantasy; imitable like a woman's strategy. her hair color was your desire; her skin color the color of your dreams.
her name was fantasy girl.

suddenly, the lights went out; suddenly, a lightblue sun illuminated the room. no one noticed. everyone so busy hiding something that nothing was hid.
the creatures of babylon 8 therefore didn't perceive the light.

fantasy girl ordered a drink. she told the bartender: "i need freedom. that's what i want from you, the people of babylon 8."

the bartender a giant with a face full of shining scars; his right ear missing; flashy shirt; an ancient first name; speaker of all world languages combined: the omerta.

fantasy girl took a sip from a silver brew which had been served to her by the bartender. she took out a single match and there was no box; a long cigarette between her unknown lips.

bartender looked at fantasy girl. without saying a word, he turned his stubble cheek into her direction. fantasy girl lighted the match.
lightblue fire. inhaling. smoke. iceblue cloud.

the burglar and the pusher had been looking at fantasy girl all the time.
fantasy girl held a white fountain pen and took a black sheet out of a green handbag. she began to write.
To be continued. BABYLON 8
Kewayne Wadley Mar 2019
She walks in the bar
The bartender sits & stares,
We're closed for repairs
BoogzThePoet Oct 2018
Bartender,
I ask for a full glass of the elixir I asked you for before.
Something inside me cries, more then it did before.
Or ever actually
Weeks, and days, turn to hours, minutes, seconds, but still ripple of moments.
Moments that find me back here lusting for the poison that becoming, so becoming.
Maybe im here cause my father craved this chair.
Maybe im here cause he’s seeing my day become D-day, and not just today but everyday, all day and probably tomorrow too.
13 years old, crying for help,
a little boy appeared at his meadow of wisdom,
and all he says is  “have a drink with me”
So I drink, I drink some more, and I drink enough that now the foot of my bed
has become this wooden armrest where I meet a new neighbor by the hour,
My bed pillows have become this poison,
the only feeling that lays my head to rest, battles caged and blurred in routine, battles with the child inside me,
the man now, and everything in-between.
Brandon Conway Sep 2018
Mr. Piano Man how your
fingers rain down on the keys
dancing a somber ballet
capturing the feeling of being empty
like those bottles underneath

Here Mr. Piano Man
the next drink is on me
while we sift through debris
of our melancholy

Every note stings
every chord bleeds
woe is you
and
woe is me
play
Mr. Piano Man
a song to our ennui

Let it rain Mr. Piano Man
let the storm hammer the strings
lets swim in the puddle
of whats spilt underneath

Oh Mr. Piano Man
What is that I hear?
That note that was just hit
it sounded rather queer
there is no room for happiness
at the bottom of this beer

No! NO! Mr. Piano Man
I don't want the sun
go back to stormy waters
to where you had begun

I thought you a friend
I thought we allies
I thought we understood
the sounds of demise

Mr. Piano Man how you so betrayed
with your songs of love and spring
every note my heart aches
every chord a bee sting

Mr. Piano Man this is my goodbye
I am leaving you now
please don't cry
I am going to my new friend
Mr. Bartender
How do you do?
Give me an endless bottle
and another drunk to talk to.
Ron Gavalik Aug 2018
That bartender poured my bourbon
and took an interest in my life.
'What's wrong, pal?
You can tell me.
I have all the answers.'
'Great,' I said. 'I don't know
any of the questions.'
For the rest of the night,
he left me with my typer
and silently refilled
the bourbon.

-Ron Gavalik
Hit my Patreon or let me starve. The choice is yours. Patreon.com/rongavalik
Danial John Jul 2018
I'm a bartender
Scar-mender
Heart defender
On another ******
Ready for a hard winter
Never a pretender
Opposite of a large spender
Certainly not anyone's number one contender
The one who's better
Yet often told never
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