Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Late Saturday nights,
packed cars and
laughing friends.
Trunk monkeys,
running around
fighting and fending off
the crazy drunks and
druggies of the night.
People screaming and
laughing and
running all over.
Everyone making jokes
and annoying one another,
all of us
making memories that'll
last forever.

Gotta love them
late Saturday nights.
Remember the teenage years, when you think they're all little punks who think they're indestructible... you may be right, but think about all the fun YOU used to have.
Brent Kincaid Jun 2015
It all started with a big mistake;
I’m here to tell it was all a big fake.
Fred hit Kelly in his great big mouth;
He said he caught Kelly at his girl’s house.
Rosie was jealous of Fred’s main squeeze;
Said she always does what she pleases.
So, she cooked up the story about her.
And Kelly never knew a thing either.
But that didn’t stop the fur from flying.
I tell you the truth, if I’m lying I’m dying.
The mood changed in the old hangout.
Everyone stuck around, nobody cut out.

Everyone was gathered for birthday cheer.
You know, some pool and some beer.
Nobody knew about Rosie’s big lie
Or what kind of crap would soon fly.
They just laughed and cracked jokes;
Enjoyed some legal and illegal smokes.
And when the mood was sufficiently jolly
Rosie quietly took Kelly out into the ally.
Said she saw Kelly go into the house
Fred started fuming, calling Kelly a louse.
He went back in and he smacked old Kelly
And followed it up with a shot to the belly.

While Kelly was reacting, Fred purely raged.
He wasn’t quite done, was not even assuaged.
But Kelly’s girl Lydia heard what Fred said
And smacked Rosie up side of her head.
She started screaming that Rosie was a liar,
And then there were two more irons in the fire.
It was two women and two men slugging.
The Fist City Express started chugging.
Mirrors were broken by costly pool sticks
The bartender finally got tired of the tricks
And got out his baseball bat and stepped in.
Rosie ******* up and hit him on the chin.

By now, a customer called nine one one,
And the end of the brouhaha had begun.
All four of the combatants were busted.
And the cops finally decided they trusted
The regular customers who all insisted
That the bartender not be arrested.
It might be good to say it was a big shame
But fights in bars are the name of the game.
Especially when women fight, it’s a show
And bystanders in bars always let them go
And then cheer and some even take bets.
This is how selling alcohol to fools often gets.
Serge Belinsky May 2015
I think the truth is always right.
Duel, measuredly I do count my steps.

Tired eyes, yes, the night was sleepless.
I hope God will not leave me in the wrong.

My opponent, accepted the challenge, did not blink.
Bustling I always respect the bravest.

Yesterday's evening among the tipsy revellers,
May come up today with fresh blood pouring out.

Helen,please forgive me, later you will understand,
The hot breath only the bullet can cool up.

The day begins, my time has come.
But the coming up evening, I hope, will be starry ....
Patrick Conroy Sep 2014
It's the first day of summer heat.
Temperature is one hundred and four.
The junkies and drunks hit the street,
shufflin' towards death's door.

Freon raindrops fall from air conditioners
that hang from windows on the third floor.
I think "this day couldn't be finer",
as I shuffle towards death's door.

Bicycle tires roll over broken glass
from the shattered window of a store.
The prostitutes all congregate beneath the overpass,
as they shuffle towards death's door.

**** smoke fills the air
as I finish off beer number four.
A chance to put my mind elsewhere,
as I shuffle towards death's door.

— The End —