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rick May 8
“I look at you,” he told me, “and I think to myself; now here’s a guy whose got it all: he’s over fed, has a nice watch on his wrist and his shoes, although not my style, are brand new. The only thing he doesn’t have are troubles and worries.”

“bartender,” I shouted, “I’ll take one more and the tab.”

“hey man what about me,” he asked, “mind topping me off?”

“and another one for the poor sap next to me.”

“you see what I mean,” he continued. “you can afford to buy drinks for yourself and for others. as for myself, they forced me into a war I didn’t support and I also got my *** shot off for a cause unknown. I was stripped of my emotions, gutted from my life, they sodomized my psyche, carved the dream out of my head and I was never given a chance at having children or a future. and all this happened before I ever held a beer or tasted a cigarette or had a woman in my bed.”

I didn’t bother responding
in hopes that he’d get the hint
but as expected, he was as
clueless as my ex-wife
and as he carried on
with relentless persistency
each word dug in like a cat scratch
and all I could do was clench my glass tighter and tighter to contain myself.

“I’ve been spit on, kicked out, beat up and let down,” he further continued. “the streets are hard and unkind and everywhere you go you’re unwanted and everything is locked. why do you think I pour into these bars late at night? to drink? naw man, I just need a place to go, a roof over my head you know?”

that was it.
I had enough.

I finished my drink,
got off the stool
and headed toward the exit.

“hey buddy,” he shouted, “can I get another one for the road?”

“no.”

“just one more?”

“NO!” I screamed.

“c’mon man, you’ve got everything and I’ve got nothing. what makes you better than anyone else?”

“now look here you bumbling idiot…”

“but…but…but…” he interrupted.

“I’ve heard your tales of woe and now you’re going to listen to me,” I said sternly. “I look overfed because of poor diet and lack of exercise caused by working 60-80 hours a week with no time to take care of myself. I have a nice watch and new shoes but it came with a price. I’ve traded in my freedom for comfort, my time for materials and any chance of love for success. you say I have everything and you have nothing? I say you’re wrong. you’ve got something I no longer possess and that my friend is soul. don’t lose that. don’t buy into the mold. don’t conform. don’t become like everyone else. most of the people you see in here have imprisoned themselves into their own personal hell. that’s the way society wants it. but you’re free. truly free. and another thing… don’t worry about sorrow. everyone’s got problems and nobody wants to hear about it. why do you think people are in here? for the enjoyment? no, there here to forget. just. like. you.”

“******* *******! I don’t need a lecture from you or your cheap advice. all I need is a ******* drink!”

…and with that,
I walked out into the
dark and empty streets
where they greeted me
with their silence.
Happened a long time ago, in a bar, somewhere down in New Orleans.
Artis May 3
My heart—frozen still,
searching for the will
to forget you.

The alcohol takes its course.
Tears slide down my cheeks
as I try,
fail,
try again
to forget you.

Was my love real?
Or just something to play with—
fooled by the warmth,
cut by your words,
sharp as paper.

You made my heart ache.
Still, I stayed.
Now you just make the alcohol
taste sweeter—
and the night colder—
with every sip.

It's okay,
the drink—
is the love I need for the night.

Our favorite song—
all I can hear
is us singing it
with our whole hearts.

Was it love,
or just—
need?

Every memory in my head—
crumbles.
'Cause all I have now is this bottle
to pour my tears into—
to remember every lie,
you shakily whispered,
in my ears, holding hands.

Now you're gone.
All I have left
is the drink—
we used to share.
💔 Inspired by the legendary Jeff Buckley.
MetaVerse Feb 28
There once was a man from Zumbrota
Who'd **** down a 2-liter soda,
     Then burp up a symphony
     By Beethoven winsomely,
From the first bar to the end of the coda.
Tom Lefort Feb 8
Drop by drop, the measured melancholy,
Downing secrets from the past.

Tick by tock, each treasured nobody,
Their heartbeats beaten fast.

Hurt by hurt, each regret I will ever own,
My scattered promises, a broken trust.

Death by death, the full stop comes to pass,
Leaving empty spaces upon our paths.

Life by life, such are my memories lost in time,
Those precious moments never meant to last.

Tom Lefort 2025
Still Crazy Dec 2024
First know this:
In my peoples’ history,
an old evil, revived,
a real pretend
a”new” enemy, but
merely a derivative of a-prior,
old name, same hatred,
irrational and raw,
rising up in every generation,
under cover of a ‘philosophy,’
lies buried a purity of motive,
purity of hate for hate’s sake

<•>

For my people
and their beliefs
Our secret to our
survival is manifest,
you may have heard it called,
A Secret Chord (1)

Tears and Laughter,
Tears Behind Laughter
intertwined, or else,
we would not indeed be  
the long going on tribe
studied by curious
historians & idiots

me?
still crazy, after all these generations

Grandparents & Parents
chased by ‘professionals’
from places well known to you
(hey! we somehow got away
with huge luck, and courageous daring)

Not requiring your sympathy
not asking for a special empathy,
not rejecting your clucks,
but we manage
though tears aplenty
that we mask under a guise
via self-deprecating humor

I would love to tell
the Bible and the liturgy
is full of sly winks,
cutish double entendres,
bartender jokes,
but it ain’t necessarily so
don’t ya know

if the bible had made
gentle laughter at/of/
angelic & human foibles
and maybe
even God laughing at
all too human characteristics

but that’s a very big ask,
not sure He’s up to the task,
making fun of yourself
when you’re the
top of the chain
requires
humanility
which’s not a master’s
first calling
but should have been its
first blessing

so that’s up to us,
we irreverent creatures
of his design,
and why we are the absolute tgw only
species that cries
to express
sadness-
and mockery maker
of ourselves
the oy in
oh vey beings
Still crazy after all these years
(1) yes Leonard Cohen
David P Carroll Dec 2024
A juice so divine
Tasty just like wine and
Made from fruit that
Was perfectly ripe
It's taste so sweet
And delicious and
It just couldn't be beat
And left you feeling just fine.
Juice
Abi Winder Sep 2024
i'm inviting Time inside.
offering a seat;
a room in my house so it can unpack its things.
letting It live with me
until all this tension i feel is relieved.

we're spending moments together (intentionally):
a song of silence sung during the sweet sunrise,
a solemn sulk just before bed.
i'll permit It sit with me.
let It remind me that there is so much left.

it'll wrap Its arms tightly around me;
pat my back in rhythmic beats that once felt cruel, but which now reduce me to infancy.
offer me a tissue in the shape of
'the right person at the right time.'
and for a moment, in its embrace
i find solace.

because there really is so much of it left.

because you are not dying.
(no, not yet.)
and it will be there in the morning,
your life is no less than palimpsest.

so i'm welcoming It in,
offering it a drink.
tea brewed long, but not bitter.
i refuse to live a life
with the string wrapped around the handle.
because seeping and stewing are not the same.
nick armbrister Aug 2024
Work in a call centre all night long five nights a week
On shift number five told to go drinking with the bosses
Drink till drunk then drink till you puke this is an order
I did this twice with them when I worked in a small BPO
Twice was enough drink till I crawl had my fill no more
Takes the stress away but I’m not doing it again
I was too tired after shift asked time and again
Let’s drink till we puke and crawl in many call centres
Not my thing now with my team mates who aint my pals
Too many differences interest wise and age
I’m not in their little click how many times?
I drink alone after shift five know what I wanna do
Not spend time with them or their fake friends
All plastic posturing and lies none of it for me
Work in a call centre drink till you puke and crawl
George Krokos Aug 2024
There was once a time when you could drink
some cool and clean water at the local stream.
But now you either have to wonder or think
whether that was not out of a distant dream.
___
From 'The Quatrains' ongoing writings since the early 90's
Nigdaw May 2024
tonight I am a poet
but that could just be
the drink talking
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