#barroom
the mist blows stout along the road of scree, and fingers
sallow on the charcoal lay;
the leaden soil wails from its coffined cinders.
drink up, mate; the soil has its own say.
there’s one rough grove that teaches how to bear, one draught
that strips the leaves and leaves the stem.
you find the weight of sorrow everywhere,
but ah, the leaves return, and you’re still there.
we forsooth are not those
who bow when tempests call, nor clay
to keep the print of passing hands;
**** their truce that asks for nothing small,
and drink, to all the havoc it commands.
my friend, let others seek the calm
that wanes the pulse, or curl
like thatch beneath the punic wind;
the hours pass, and leave us none the less,
let us drink, for all the world has sinned.
these stones are soaked and cut by years, my lad.
you’ll count each ridge and every wale you bear;
the storm and hail will shape them as it steers, and none of it
will make this earth more fair.
if here today the grit is slick with rain, tomorrow
it will shine for other feet;
the grove will mutter mirth and veil in vain, and you and i
will reckon what we meet.
the rifts are ours, as we endure the blows.
my friend, the dust will settle as it ought.
we lift this weight, as any fool well knows--
and are you still drinking that?
Oct 29, 2025
Oct 29, 2025 at 5:18 AM UTC
Pay dirt
Eyes her target
Sit just so & sit tight
Let him think that he's the hunter, then
******* fish
Mar 10, 2019
Mar 10, 2019 at 1:19 PM UTC
Better days were in the past
For the bar and all inside
Windows broke and lights burned out
The bar had long since died
Carpets gone and floors all worn
Scorch marks on the wall
Smells of stale beer in the air
the bar had it's last call
Welcome to the Stagger Inn
Good Food and Cold Beer Too
Live bands every single night
And it's air conditioned too
Welcome to the Stagger Inn
A bar befits it's name
We'll take you the way you are
And we're mighty glad you came
The stage was now an eyesore
As was most of what was here
Way back in the corner
Sat a woman with her beer
Hair was streaked with boot black
From a time, who knows when
The bar was dead or dying
As were most in this old den
A few nights folks would still come here
To see the towns old jewel
What once was gold and glistened
Now was just no longer cool
The lady way back in the corner
Hadn't danced since eighty three
Ten times a night she'd go and
Play the jukebox tune 5B
A song about the devil
calling him silver tongued was her pick
She'd hit the worn out buttons
While giving her chapped lips a lick
Sitting in the back and nursing
A beer as dead as the bar
On a steady diet of Winstons
That had made her voice as thick as tar
Welcome to the Stagger Inn
Good Food and Cold Beer Too
Live bands every single night
And it's air conditioned too
Welcome to the Stagger Inn
A bar befits it's name
We'll take you the way you are
And we're mighty glad you came
Maybe fifteen people came here
When the other places were full
You could see the worn out tiles
Where there once was a mechanical bull
Trends were never big here
Though they tried a few to survive
The bar was dead and dying
Housing folks who now were barely alive
The last band that they had here
Was a cover group from down in NC
They didn't last the evening
Getting out done by old 5B
The woman in the corner
With the boot black streak of wild
closed her eyes and listened
To the memories she had compiled
If you ever choose to come here
I don't think you'll stay long
But, I know you'll hear a singer
Talk of the devil in that 5B song
The door is always open
At the dead and dying Stagger Inn
A place that still lives through the ages
And the folks remembering what might have been
Welcome to the Stagger Inn
Good Food and Cold Beer Too
Live bands every single night
And it's air conditioned too
Welcome to the Stagger Inn
A bar befits it's name
We'll take you the way you are
And we're mighty glad you came
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 6:43 PM UTC