"barkeep" poems
These streets
are home to countless
rodents
emerging for a moment
to feed
or breed
or just to breathe the sun
One by one line up
for the chance to
make something
out of nothing
Who are they and
where do they go
while the city refuses to
sleep
___
Doors to endless lands
line the avenue
each its own portal to the
unimagined
A family of four
with the yapping mutt
or a lonely cat lady
whose entryway wreaks of *****
a drug dealer
door slamming
every hour on the hour
or an empty snowbird's nest
On the surface
everyone pretends
they don't have a hole to
crawl back to
or walls that know
every night
But below the sewer grate
a world filled with
the stench
of what could have been a
good day
Many a barkeep can
shed some life
on these drunkards'
rat king
or at least a story of those who
made it out
Once or twice it'd be grand
to see the bottom of a martini glass
left with a sip or two
instead of the casually tipped
lipstick-clad cocktail,
drained of doubt and despair
until morning warms the
frozen dreams
of those retired to
a paradise unknown
Oct 25, 2015
Oct 25, 2015 at 1:45 PM UTC
A true story of a chance gathering of strangers in the back room of a Gelato Parlor *** restaurant, two years ago, in a little village near the bay, on a land surrounded by vineyards. Come visit.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Gelato Nation
There is a place,
location secret,
mine to keep,
mine with which
you to tease,
make you envious,
a back room 'office'
jealous guarded
by a barkeep,
whose chosen invites sweeps
you into a reality that is
what you will it to be.
But nota bene, note well,
remembrances of things swell
from your past be the
only tongue spoken here.
Code word entry only,
a shared whisper.
Perhaps One Woman,
may reveal its pleasures,
if she so chooses,
which are:
gelato laughs, poetry snaps,
Beatle songs sung ensemble,
by rag tag strangers
self-collected accidentally,
sung de rigeur off key
by voices lubricated by
cognac, laughter, and
the coldest of white wines,
issue of the very soil
upon which we sit.
Words to value properly,
not in my possess to capture
the few moments in time when;
Strangers transform themselves
into a triple A nation united,
that will never be
S&P; downgraded.
A holy alliance
celebrating July 4th
all night long,
all participants
signatory witnesses to
its gelato conception,
as well as pallbearers
to its last drink dissolution,
the fullness of its lifetime
a vintage of a few hours extant,
a vintage, once drunk, is
a history, forever gone.
Mixologists please record:
One playwright, a psychologist, bond trader and a social scientist
with a dash of museum director,
and do not forget the
Hundred Year Old Woman,
whose Dowager Princess Daughter
(she, a mere eighty)'
from Central Park West
clarifies all of life dilemmas with
the singular analytical tool of:
But is it good for the Jews?
**But t'is the barkeep
who is the leavening
in this evenings human
pastry-petrie dish.**
He makes the pastiche,
the ions of personalities,
coalesce best,
guitar strummer,
singer of songs that were our
multiple national anthems
when we were pseudo-rebels
starting out on our
long and winding roads.
Long the King of the Keep!
Long live the memory of our
Gelato Nation,
may it stay sweet in
our antique collection of
the best moments of
our intersecting lives.
July 2011
Jul 4, 2013
Jul 4, 2013 at 6:00 PM UTC
I'd love to peer into that brain of yours and see the actual mechanics of your thinking. Where those creative juices of yours throb and pulse. Ya, I'll drink to that.
Maybe use one of them scopes to explore the left ventricle of your heart (you know, that chamber of the Heart that pumps blood through the aorta). Figure out that sensitive heart of yours.
Explore the rubber consistency of the lining of your lungs. With that heaving chest and ******* of yours, those lungs must be so healthy in their pinkish hue. Just some barstool thoughts while waiting for closing time.
Staring into this shot glass in front of me, my memory harkens back to the time you cut your arm and I ****** the blood from it, so salty and all. I want to bottle you up in a liquid formula or capsulize your essence in a unique pill form where I can digest and absorb you and grow new cells from the energy I receive from the calories of your precious body.
Maybe with the power of your bodies flesh I can grow a sixth toe, develop a third eye, build an ***** I love you so much I could eat you up!
Barkeep says this is last call so I better drink up and be on my way. I wonder what your left ventricle really looks like under close inspection?
Just wondering, do you have any x-rays of your body I could have?
See ya, Creepy Ray Ray
Aug 21, 2018
Aug 21, 2018 at 6:45 PM UTC
I'm sitting in the corner
With a whiskey and a smoke
The barkeep pours another
The waitress tells a joke
The jukebox is on auto
But still, people go and choose
I just sit here with my whiskey
Dropping ashes on my shoes
Another Day, Another Bottle
My life is dragging by
Another Day, Another Bottle
I'm just waiting here to die
Another Day, Another Bottle
I gave it my best try
Another Day, Another Bottle
I'm just waiting here to die
Beer no longer cuts it
It's just whiskey, hold the ice
A maduro or cohiba
Makes it go down rather nice
The barkeep keeps his distance
Knows I'll order when I'm dry
But, I nurse each whiskey longer
'cause I've just no cash to buy
Another Day, Another Bottle
My life is dragging by
Another Day, Another Bottle
I'm just waiting here to die
Another Day, Another Bottle
I gave it my best try
Another Day, Another Bottle
I'm just waiting here to die
The jukebox plays some country
It plays Cash, Nelson and Joe South
It doesn't play the new stuff
It leaves a bad taste in my mouth
I sit here in the corner
With my whiskey and my smoke
Neither one has killed me
But **** they've made me broke
Another Day, Another Bottle
My life is dragging by
Another Day, Another Bottle
I'm just waiting here to die
Another Day, Another Bottle
I gave it my best try
Another Day, Another Bottle
I'm just waiting here to die
Mar 29, 2016
Mar 29, 2016 at 11:58 PM UTC
I shoud've told the bartender to tie me to the last working pay phone.
But I didn't. I let her introduce herself. Sadie, she said, like The Beatle's song.
I'm hard to forget, so I asked, What's your motto?
She breathed in reverse. She looked at the door. She was past mottos.
It was Josh, right?
Yeah.
Let me tell you something. I'm the bad, **** ***** that's gonna wreck your health.
And she did.
Every weekend for 105 weekends. I opened her up like a paycheck.
I spent her on a big brass bed.
I spent her on glass tile.
I spent her on the kitchen island.
The Japanese table.
The water lily pond.
Her brother Frank or Gary or Marvin---some American classic---kept us
horizontal with white whiskey from his personal still.
Personal still.
And there is a house in New Orleans,
but there's another one in Colorado Springs,
one you should be wary of.
I shoud've told the bartender to tie me to the last working pay phone.
But I didn't. I let him tell me about his dream. My name is Jack, he said, as in Jumpin' Jack Flash.
Like the Rolling Stones' song?
Like the Stones' song, man.
You were in it.
Four white girls shared one mic. Karaoke night.
You were in my dream. Are you listening to me? I'm gonna say it anyways.
I only had one eye, but I could see you. Seen you plain as day.
You were scared of me. As you should be. We were on the coast.
No, I don't know which one. I saw that thought on your forehead.
It was a dream. Anyway, you were holding a pen. A giant pen.
And I asked for your name.
I lifted my drink from the makeshift napkin coaster. Pulled a pen out of my coat pocket.
Straightened out the napkin. I scribbled Nobody. Handed it to him. And aimed myself toward the interstate.
I shoud've told the bartender to tie me to the last working pay phone.
But I didn't. She had one helluva an afro. Her name was Katrina, not like any song, like the hurricane.
My skin tastes a little like coffee, Katrina said.
I like coffee.
You wouldn't like me.
Probably not. But I've been lost in this bar forever. I could change my mind.
No, sweetie. Forever ain't that long. Just ask my ex-husband.
Katrina paid for her drink. Asked me if I'd like the change.
Yeah, I'll take it.
I called my buddy Chris back in Oklahoma, but he didn't answer.
I called my buddy Ben back in Oklahoma, but he didn't answer.
Sam. Sarah. Brooks. Nothing. Silence.
Barkeep (I always wanted to say it), I don't think your phone is working.
It works. You gotta remember kid. You're on Rocky time.
There's an hour, every night,
where you're the only person you know that's awake.
Jul 30, 2013
Jul 30, 2013 at 2:48 AM UTC
A guy walks into a bar
In a posh high rise hotel.
He doesn't look the part,
He is not a swell.
He's in an off-rack suit
It's not tailored silk.
Orders up a drink,
A tall.glass of milk.
He's tall, dark and handsome,
But his tie is just absurd!
He's got heavy glasses,
And looks just like a nerd!
**Along the bar he heard a snort,
And a drunkard gave a sneer,
"Well, hey there kid,
The school's next door,
You're not allowed in here!"
He laughed aloud at his own joke,
And began to walk and sway,
A gap appeared as nervous folk
All slowly back away...
The drunkard called out to the nerd,
"What's wrong, kid, beer too fizzy?
Or is the truth just what I heard,
You're a no-good, yellow *****
The handsome man was cool,
He didn't break his stride.
He pushed his glasses up his nose
And took the drunk aside.
The enebriated idiot
Looked him up and down,
But followed him to the window
Said, "Watchoo wan' here clown?
The dark man smiled coolly.
Said, "I'd like to make a wager.
Just a couple thousand bucks.
You know. Nothing major.
I'll bet you, my drunken friend,
I can jump out - but then
After I'm out this window,
I'll come back in again!!
**The drunkard looked
him up and down,
And grinned an evil grin,
"If you wanna JUMP, go right ahead,
This bet, I'm gonna WIN!
The handsome man just
Gave a wink,
And jumped out on the ledge.
He took one look o'r the brink,
And leapt over the edge!
The drunkard gasped
In total shock!
"My god, he must have died!!"
When in a flash there came a knock
The man climbed back inside!
The handsome man
Straightend his tie
"It's time to pay your dues!
Unless, of course, you'd like to try,
Or are you scared you'll lose...**
"Scared!?!!" The drunk was livid!
"Well! I'm no chicken, friend!
I accept! " And so he *lept!!!
And promptly met his end.....*
The tall, dark handsome person
Went back to his drink.
He finished his milk quietly,
And tipped the keep a wink.
The barkeep, looking sour,
Said, "Well. More cleanup work.
Superman, I like you,
But sometimes you're a ****
(C) Tryst
(C) SoulSurvivor
Oct 11, 2014
Oct 11, 2014 at 11:22 AM UTC
Shall I march into the sea tonight?
The lighthouse-keeper asks.
The light is lit; the wind is wound;
I have no other tasks.
The rains have cycled fifty times
Since they last turned on me;
Shall I bar the windows shut tonight,
or march into the sea?
Who will find me lost at sea tonight?
The lighthouse-keeper thinks,
When shepherds turn their flock indoors,
And the barkeep turns to drink.
I am the lighthouse-keeper, but
I do not have to be;
They'll find another keeper when
They find me lost at sea.
And if the sea won't take me, love,
The lighthouse-keeper sighs,
No candle on my windowsill
Is watched by no-one's eyes —
No shadow's crossed my threshold's bounds
Since I was thirty-three —
With stones inside my pockets
Let me march into the sea.
Give me no pauper's funeral,
The lighthouse-keeper sings,
Though scant be the inheritance
You'll cobble from my things.
If my debtors come a-calling,
Tell them, forfeit every fee —
Or, if they are truly greedy,
Let them find me lost at sea.
Nov 6, 2020
Nov 6, 2020 at 9:54 AM UTC
The bar was deserted
But for The Captain and me
I was tending the bar
He was watching the sea
The North Wind was 'a howlin'
As the door opened wide
It was The North Wind just checkin'
To see who's inside
The Captain, was quiet looking out at the sea
He said on days like today, that is no place to be
She'll swallow you whole
Take your ship in one gulp
Crush all your riggings
And make the rest into pulp
When she opens her maw
The Sea don't care who
Is there for the taking
It's just what she do
I ventured on over
A fresh glass, with some ice
He said "what took you?"
I said ..."now, be nice"
"With weather like this"
"There's leaks front and back"
"And if I don't mop them up"
"Then I will get the sack"
He smiled as he drank up
One gulp and all done
He used to come here
With his grandson and son
But, that story is longer
And a good one to know
But, today, t'was just him
And he was rarin' to go
"The Sea is a monster, you can be sure of that"
"That's a fact I am saying, as sure as I'm sat"
"She'll swat you down hard, like a little old gnat"
"And to her it'll be nothing more than a pat"
"To Davy Jones Locker, she'll take you today"
"And once you are down there, in the locker you'll stay"
"A witch like the Ocean, she doesn't half play"
"When the water starts talking....you hear what she say!!!"
He swirled round the cubes
Made a noise, looked my way
I was already pouring
His fifth of the day
"Barkeep, be wary"
"The wind is the start"
"It's the voice of the water"
"It'll sure break your heart"
"She'll take what you give her"
"And she'll return you squat"
"Like a big old hard game"
"Of 'x's and noughts"
"She's a powerful mistress"
"And fickle as well"
"But, be on her today"
"And she'll take you to hell"
We sat watching closely
As the storm rattled glass
We both were quite nervous
And we hoped it would pass
The storm came in early
Two weeks 'fore the season
And we knew out today
That the water'd be freezin'
The Captain dozed off
Facing out to the sea
There was now just the storm
A sleeping Captain....and me.
Jun 24, 2013
Jun 24, 2013 at 11:45 PM UTC
His old mare cantered into to town
The covered wagon followed
A boy's first trip to town alone
He took it in, and swallowed
Penny candy dreams last night
And sarsparilla floats
The ladies' parasol fineries
The men in pinstriped coats
Perhaps a whiskey, what the hell
Today he was a man!
But first the livery stable for Brownie
For oats and a water can.
The .30-30 saddle gun would come with him, of course.
He also grabbed the belted Colt from the pommel of his horse.
The warped board sidewalks led past stores
His worn boots clopped along
He strapped on the .36 Navy Colt revolver
And fastened down the thong
He clopped down to the first saloon
Laid his rifle on the bar
A sporting girl sat next to him
With the unlikely name of "Star"
"A milk for the lady.
Myself as well,
Barkeep, if you please!"
A cowhand howled out raucous laughter,
Flipping up Ms. Star's dress, to well above her knees
"That little pup, he wants some milk
So Star, give him yer ****
I'll bend him over, spank his ***
And then give YOU a treat!"
The young man's vision doubled, trebled,
The shame clear on his face
As tears welled up in big blue eyes
A witness in every soul in the place
"Aw, the little ***** is bawling! WAH!"
The cowhand bellowed out
And all false mirth left his expression
And he gave the boy a clout
The boy just sat and sobbed and watched
As Ms. Star joined in the joke
But cowhand was already 3 bottles in,
In a flash, her nose was broke
Cowhand reached across the boy
To grab that sweet, sleeved rifle
The boy grabbed cowhand's wrist just then
And twisted it just a trifle
A yelp and howl from cowhand's mouth,
"YOU BROKE MY ****** WRIST!
NOW you're ****** you little sprat"
He took a swing, and missed.
Red faced, clumsy, humiliated
He drew leather on the boy
Dead to rights, he had the kid,
He realized, with grim joy
An explosion, a thump, on warped pine floor
Blue smoke curling in the air
Utter, vapid, vacuum silence
Patrons cemented to their chair
The tears were gone from those blue eyes
Blue steel as his gaze fixed
A hole had grown in cowhand's head
The size was .36
Mar 27, 2016
Mar 27, 2016 at 1:18 AM UTC
Hey kid, I woke up buzzing, here
In the future ruins of ancient America.
Staring, after the imperial sunrise,
Listening to Los Angeles on repeat.
Insistent and purple, only
Sediment left in the
Bottles of night.
This third-world way
Causes Third World War
So I'm drinking at a
Tavern on the End.
The bus goes by, and
"Baseball's the worst sport."
Alliteration, allusion,
Colors, characters,
And metaphors.
Sobriety sending me
Searching for smoke.
Rehash, re-up, and "read the ****** thing." My world-view,
Out-maneuvering your
Upbringing.
(The memories I have are white and yellow.
Fogged, not angry, if even confused.
You'd call me, after finishing your nightly readings, to cry about the characters you'd loved, and castigate my inability to care.
Remember when you used "undermined" to describe the adaptation?
You meant that it was "assuming too much.")
"Brenda and Eddie," over here,
"Couldn't go back to the greasers" so they
Wound up at your family's tavern.
"You look like the fat kid,
On whom the popular girl was
Forced to settle."
Dear Man,
Woman's found you out. Or
Are we, justly, doomed to be
More juvenile?
Worn sole, soul-open, "so long,
Kid, I don't know you, but,
I can't help myself from
Destroying you."
(My upbringing: out-maneuvering
Your world-view.)
"You've always been the caretaker, Flagstaff."
The bait's in your brain.
You've simply been
Overlooking the barkeep.
(Dear Diary, could I just die already?
The Price is Life, and purgatory's a game show.
Anger, the color of your mother.
Skin, the shade of yard-work.
Staring at road maps of Virginia, stoic.
Trying to divine the diners we'd die in.)
Jul 8, 2015
Jul 8, 2015 at 3:41 AM UTC
I don't remember passing out
The barkeep nudged me twice
I'd been out at least an hour
My drink, it had no ice
He told me I was finished
He said "Boy, you are done"
"You're playing roulette with a pistol"
"With six bullets, not just one"
"There's a taxi on it's way boy"
I took in every word
But in truth, my head was spinning
What he said, I never heard
Way back in the corner
Sat two vultures watching me
The barkeep saw them watching
And he said "Son, the taxi's free"
"There's a cot just off the kitchen"
"If you'd rather stay inside"
"You won't throw up in the taxi"
"It saves me money for the ride"
I nodded I'd accept it
He told me, "good, I hoped you would"
"The way your night is going"
"It just won't end up good"
"You're burning both ends of the candle"
"You're lighting the middle part as well"
"You may think you're off to heaven"
"Drink like this, you'll end in hell"
He said "out back there is another"
"Fought the bottle, fought it hard"
"He was lost, but came back stronger"
"He's doing well, but he is scarred"
"Tomorrow, you'll eat breakfast"
"Go out back, and talk a bit"
"Now, off to bed directly"
"I need to think a bit, and sit"
I thanked him, though I mumbled
The words were clear inside my head
But, the words that I said to him
Made no sense, so....off to bed
The next morning, over coffee
He told me, "I've watched you every night"
"I've woken you before, you know"
"What you're doing isn't right"
I told him of my troubles
He shook his head, and said "so what"
"We all have troubles sometime"
"We make the best with what we've got"
"You can come here if you want to"
"But, if you drink, I'll cut you off"
"This is your only chance son"
He said the last line, through a cough
He said that after breakfast
After I'd done the washing up
I was to head out to the alley
With fresh coffee, in a cup
He said "out back there"
"You'll find a man with a guitar"
"Give him the fresh coffee"
"He won't come here inside the bar"
I went out in the alley
And there exactly as he said
Sat a man, singing to no one
With a old ball cap on his head
I listened as he sang out
A voice as harsh as glass and sand
Playing guitar in the sunshine
Keeping beat, a one man band
He finished, and he saw me
Smiled as he took the cup
He said, "You don't know me"
"But, I knew you'd look me up"
The Bluesman drank the coffee
Told me to sit and stay a spell
For each minute that I listened
Was one less I was in hell.
Feb 11, 2016
Feb 11, 2016 at 12:11 AM UTC
I was down at the legion
Knocking back one or two
When in walked an old member
Who fought in World War Two
I got in line behind him
And when he ordered his brew
I made a signal to the barkeep
I paid for his too
He turned and said thank you
I'm on a pension as a vet
1100 dollars monthly
Is all the cash I get
I said to him "no, thank you"
I'm happy to buy your beer
I owe a lot to you
I owe you all that I hold dear
He said to me "t'was nothing"
"you would do the same"
"And I'd do it again"
"If the call ever came"
He looked round the room
And he sipped at his beer
Then he leaned in real close
So just I could hear
"Son, I'll be honest"
"And I don't make no bones'
"The kids of today"
"They just ain't got the stones"
"The stones to step forward"
"To get up and fight"
"To defend flag and country"
"To do what is right"
I said, in most cases
He'd hit the nail on the head
It's a battle at worst
To get a kid out of bed
The times are a'changing
It was different back then
It took a lot less
To turn boys into men
"A soldier's a cowboy
He's one for the books
There's not many in here
I can tell with one look"
"I just did my duty
No less and no more
War isn't a game
Where someone keeps score"
He sat back and his eyes closed
Said "the next one's on me"
"I don't drink that much
But, at most I have three"
I accepted his offer
And we talked a bit more
We talked baseball, and race cars
But not of the war
That was the past
And the past is long dead
Except for the pictures
He has in his head
I went up to the bar
And I set up an account
I would cover his tab
To a certain amount
What he did for our country
And what he did for me
Is worth a couple of beer
Or at least, each day....three
Nov 7, 2015
Nov 7, 2015 at 1:34 PM UTC
Prolificus II
another day has come and gone
without a thought lingering
while the clouds of meloncholy
strum the magic harp
and the jester dances
with the bells on his toes
his words still ran freely
like a mountain stream
and his knowledge of
nothingness
flowed
endlessly
continuously
unwillingly
his logic still unlogical
rows after rows
not a rhyme or a prose
without adjacent adjectives
or proverbial adverbs
though sometimes a breeze
whispered the name
from the lips of Louise
distance and disdain
crossed their faces
like wheelbarrow races
meandering
thoughtlessly
rigorously
unending
pour me another one
would you barkeep
I ain't going nowhere
Gomer LePoet....
May 23, 2013
May 23, 2013 at 9:51 PM UTC
And then the barkeep said...
"One more drop and he'll change from blue to black..."
May 2, 2017
May 2, 2017 at 6:12 AM UTC
The old man sat in the darkness
Taking in what he could see
He smiled, although slyly
And he leaned in close to me
He said the air is different
You can taste it here abouts
Listen close to what's around you
The air is different...there's no doubt
I didn't understand him
He spoke in concepts, not in words
He talked of feeling the emotions
Of people running 'round in herds
He said, I've been here sixty years now
Seen people come and people go
I used to be the barkeep
But, then that's something that you know
I've seen Elvis and The Beatles
Seen Presidents and Kings
I've seen hearts torn all asunder
And the pain that a war brings
I saw Kennedy on that TV
That, one behind your head
I watched him drive on straight through Dallas
And moments later he was dead
This place was just dead silent
On the day that that man died
And hand to god I'll tell you
I was all torn up inside
I saw soldiers in that Vietnam
Fighting for what? I don't know
I saw them on that TV there
I watched them lining up to go
I saw them having rally's
Taunting those who had the guns
I saw them bringing back the caskets
Of the now dead, teenage sons
That TV showed me lots of stuff
It never strayed far from the news
It always shows the Tigers game
I turn it up to hear the boos
I saw King and Bobby on that set
Taken way to young
God, it would have been a different world
To see what things they might have brung
I sat back and I listened
The old man, went on a while
He waved two fingers skyward
And said, two more beers ...with his smile
My life has been a good one
I've been alone, except for here
I watch the outside on that set
It was then, we got our beer
I remember back when Elvis died
He was the best back in the day
But, me I liked Sinatra
Dean Martin, Bob and Ray
There was folks in here all crying
singing songs, and holding hands
on various occassions
from Lennons death, to Bobby Sands
I never really took part
In the lives of those who came
To spend their time here with me
I only knew a few by name
My job was just to serve them
Not to be their new best friend
I guess that's why I sit here still
Watching, waiting for the end
That set has shown me good and bad
That one, behind your head
It hasn't worked for fifteen years
We got a new one in instead
It's there as a reminder
more to me, than those still here
That life is for the living
And I'm alive while I am here
He rose and turned back to me
Said, it's time for us to close
I'll be back again tomorrow
To watch more highs and maybe lows
I watched the old man shuffle
To his room, and to his bed
Past the TV he saw life on
On the wall behind my head.
Oct 28, 2014
Oct 28, 2014 at 12:04 AM UTC
I seek solace in the accompaniment
of the lonely three legged bar stool.
I sit, lean and rest myself upon it
And rely on it, like I never could with you.
I speak with the barkeep,
his words comforting and kind
he leaves to serve others yet returns
he returns like you never did.
I drink spirit after spirit,
as it eases the pain
and keeps me warm
something you can no longer do.
Mar 18, 2014
Mar 18, 2014 at 9:24 PM UTC
For years now I have lived alone
Since my marriage fell apart.
In theory we’ve joint custody
But that’s always how it starts.
I’m a salesman on the road
About thirty weeks a year..
My barkeep is the mini bar,
Room service makes my meals.
But I was in town for Valentines
And for my weekend with our girl
I took her to her favorite place
These days she’s my whole world.
All grown up at five years old
And learning not to cry..
She enjoyed the present that I brought
Cause I’m her special guy.
I’m careful not to criticize
her mom who’s now my Ex.
.She also is considerate
And I’m current with the checks.
We had a decent pasta meal
I wisely passed on wine.
As I enjoyed my night out on the town
With my little valentine.
Dec 2, 2011
Dec 2, 2011 at 10:01 PM UTC
We are all poets;
when words come quick,
shaolin blades slicing pixels
in angry, poetic kung-fu;
when words come smooth and slow
in fleeting, awkward caresses
pulsating across goose-bumped skin,
every new lover a poem.
When we sway on the barstool,
flag poles resisting booze’s steady gale,
arguing for that one last drink
before the white light cuts through
the swaddling shadows and the barkeep
sees the reds of our eyes,
every slurring plea a poem.
When we beg the officer
to let us go gently into freedom’s violet dawn
and when unsuccessful,
to crack the back window of his cruiser
just enough to keep the world from spilling in,
spinning into violent oblivion,
every handcuffed squirm a poem.
We are all poets;
when both heart and home sputter,
energy from a rusting machine crawling
from check to check until
chair becomes wheelchair,
house becomes apartment,
fruits of past labor
line the curb in piles of bags,
every unpaid bill a poem.
When we stare out over the water,
rolling sheets of morning fog across the lake,
still, except for ripples of dew drops
painting the water in widening circles;
revived campfire crackling next to
snug, sleeping children;
quiet, like a poem’s end.
Apr 22, 2010
Apr 22, 2010 at 5:02 PM UTC
In an Irish Pub was
A soft spoken Man
Walked up to the bar
And Ordered a Black and Tan
The Barkeepcame back at a Swagger
With a bottle of Guinness and a Harp Lager
In a pint mug he mixed the foamy Brew
Raising the pint he asked what should I drink to
The barkeep said, Well you can.....
Drink to Health, Drink to wealth, Drink to the village Baker
Drink to Anything, But never Drink to the undertaker--- Erin4Ever
Feb 26, 2015
Feb 26, 2015 at 11:26 PM UTC
Pardon me, I know this is a pick-up line
As standard as my Chevy four-wheel drive,
I was at the end of the bar when you passed by.
I don't come on often, I'm usually a little shy
I couldn't help but notice your blue eyes,
They are as blue as the western sky.
Your hair is like threads of silk, how it shines!
Your face is friendly. Can I be your guy?
May I sit in this chair by your side?
I'd like to have the barkeep bring you another white wine,
And sit and talk a while, can you spend the time?
I'd really like to win you over. I think you're looking fine.
My impression is your're just as sweet as a mother's lullaby.
The soft lights are bringing out the longing in your eyes.
I didn't mean to intrude in your thoughts tonight.
I only came to ask you out. Can I be your guy?
No, Madam, I didn't see your ring. Gee, it's nice.
I wouldn't change a word I've said, please, pay no mind.
I'm glad we got to share this time, it seems right.
I'd like to stay and finish my drink, while I pine.
I'll thank-you, then leave with a friendly good-bye.
As soon as I've sobered, I'll go to my truck. Home, I'll drive.
I'm a little confused... Where is your man tonight?
Oh, I'm sorry I guess I'm just envious of your guy.
Aug 21, 2015
Aug 21, 2015 at 6:13 PM UTC
Hey ** and there you go
And when you get there
Well, there you are.
Now, ain’t that something;
Better than nothing?
Two guys walk into a bar.
The barkeep asks them
What will you guys have?
The both gave him a look.
I would like to be rich
Both guys said, but that
Is neither aa creek or a brook
Two little old ladies
Were rocking on a porch
Throwing fruit at passersby.
Their husbands hid out
Finding it were best
In case someone asked why.
All this and all that was
Somewhere not quite all
The way to awesome.
There were a few pretty boys
And then some women that
Were known as handsome.
Eenie meenie miney moe
Olly olly oxen fee.
Whattya know about that?
Higgeldy piggledee
Hotsy and totsy, has
Your tongue got your cat?
Thingamjigs, doolollies
Gadgets, whirlygigs
Don’t amount to nothing.
Whatsername and Miss Thing
That ought to do it right now
To keep your beer frothing.
May 6, 2015
May 6, 2015 at 4:11 AM UTC
I’d worked late each night that summer,
I had some free cash in Eighty Nine.
So, it was only natural
when I needed to unwind.
I’d grab a meal and have a glass
(or two) till final call
Then show up in the morning for
my stint at Broad and Wall.
The Blue bar at the Algonquin
was always my first choice.
Steve Ross was singing in the oak room,
I recall his lovely voice.
The bartender and the waiters
knew my wants without a word.
As I waited for my supper
a distinctive voice was heard.
Even in her eighties, Garbo struck a
regal tone.
Despite cancer's indignities
She would have honored any throne.
.
She knew I’d recognized her,
though I never said her name.
I 'd been just a child when she
had her last brush with fame.
She knew me from the brokerage house
Her account was with my boss.
We’d sometimes spoken on the phone
about a gain or loss.
I asked if she would like a drink
when next the barkeep came.
She eyed the Bourbon in my glass
and said “I’ll have the same.”
We were two people, both alone,
She famous, me, obscure.
For me it was her solitude
that acted as a lure.
I knew she’d never married
though there were lovers and affairs.
It was as if the single life
was answer to her prayers.
“You know I never really said:
‘I want to be alone.’
Its just I knew I had the strength
to be out on my own.”
She knew I had just lost my Dad,
The pain was very keen.
She said “I lost my Father back
when I was seventeen.”.
“I appreciate your kindness...
It‘s going to take some time.”
“If you know where your heart lies,”
She said,” You’re going to be fine.”
I paid the bill and we stepped out
into a warm and humid night.
I hailed a cab for her
and then we said our last good Night.
I never saw her face again
or beheld those striking eyes.
It was just a few months later
We got word that Garbo died.
Dec 7, 2011
Dec 7, 2011 at 10:08 PM UTC
I’d worked late each night that summer,
before the crash in Eighty Nine.
So, it was only natural
when I needed to unwind.
I’d grab a meal and have a glass
(or two) till final call
Then show up in the morning for
my stint at Broad and Wall.
The Blue bar at the Algonquin
was always my first choice.
Steve Ross was singing in the oak room,
You may recall his tenor voice.
The bartender and the waiters
knew my wants without a word.
As I waited for my supper
a distinctive voice was heard.
Even in her eighties, Garbo struck a
regal tone.
Despite age’s indignities
She would have honored any throne.
.
She knew I’d recognized her,
though I never said her name.
I was just a child when she
had her last brush with fame.
She knew me from the brokerage house
Her account was with my boss.
We’d sometimes spoken on the phone
about a gain or loss.
I asked if she would like a drink
when next the barkeep came.
She eyed the Bourbon in my glass
and said “I’ll have the same.”
We were two people, both alone,
She famous, me, obscure.
For me it was her solitude
that acted as a lure.
I knew she’d never married
though there were lovers and affairs.
It was as if the single life
was answer to her prayers.
“You know I never really said:
‘I want to be alone.’
Its just I knew I had the strength
to be out on my own.”
She knew I had just lost my Dad,
The pain was very keen.
She said “I lost my Father back
when I was seventeen.”.
“I appreciate your kindness...
It‘s going to take some time.”
“If you know where your heart lies,”
She said,” You’re going to be fine.”
I paid the bill and we stepped out
into a warm and humid night.
I hailed a cab for her
and then we said our last good Night.
I never saw her face again
or beheld those striking eyes.
It was just a few months later
We got word that Garbo died.
Jan 15, 2012
Jan 15, 2012 at 6:37 PM UTC
in the arms of a stranger, it's so long to 'how long,'
the ending-writ being composed in the arms of a stranger,
the surprise, the uncomplicated simplicity of a "yes, why not"
the normalcy of the out of the ordinary has a finery that's
abnormally kind in a peculiar way & a comfortable shiny finish of a cry and a 'whew,' a laugh, a pause, a kiss on the nose,
that's familiar from a who knows me, who knows where, a silence,
a kindness to pass the collection plate of stored memory genes now
kickstarted hot and then a transition to the here and now of
hysterically funny bad jokes, a beer and a wine, and a Samuel Barber adagio that seals some of the open wounds and one can't stop thinking, thank god for the little things, the big ones never get resolved anyway, so the arms of a stranger, the long neck, tan shoulders, the eyes culling a list of unasked questions, looking for the crease in the pauses and an entry point to the decision of crossing the river of no return from the security of being strangers, whose bodies sang a two part harmony coming to a closing, last call from the barkeep lady tossing you your pants with an
awshit and the widest Mississippi River grin you've ever seen
and she asks do you like steak and laughs when the response is "with extra sizzle and Heinz ketchup" and the answer means the other questions will keep, at least for now and until
the violin weeping of a chest breathing hard but slow on the device
has played thrice, and the arms of easy are now fraught with the scent of risk, when the next the line is crossed with a followup of
"fries or baked potato?"
and it's too late, the memory machine has started recording and what is truly strange is that you can't recall what the day of the week tomorrow will be and if you have any plans that must be kept and that doesn't seem to be of any concern of anybody in the immediate vicinity of the her who's unconsciously humming the wholly appropriate, interesting choice, best love song, that Dolly Parton ever wrote^
Jun 12, 2017
Jun 12, 2017 at 5:51 PM UTC
Sitting in a darkened bar
Ten dead soldiers in a row
My bladder was now screaming
It's time for you to go
I ordered up another drink
Left my seat, went down the hall
And on my way back to the bar
I saw a number on the wall
Help...it said, is close, close by
It's nearer than you think
Call, the number that you see
Before you order your next drink
I thought, it doesn't make much sense
I've got my life under control
I haven't bottomed out quite yet
I'm only half way down the hole
Four more drinks and then again
I stumbled down the hall
And coming back, I once more read
The notice on the wall
Help...it said, is close, close by
It's nearer than you think
Call, the number that you see
Before you order your next drink
I put a dime into the payphone
I thought I'd give it one good try
Before I hit rock bottom
I'd call them up or else I'd die
A friendly voice responded
"out of service...try again"
I laughed at this short message
Then I tried it once again
I checked the number on the notice
Dialed it, and then I heard
the message "out of service"
I laughed at every word
It seems that "out of service"
Was a title I should hold
After all I was a soldier
Out of work, and drunk, and cold
Those three words, they described me
"Out of service" , right bang on
No one cared that I was falling
Who would notice when I'm gone?
I went back to my barstool
Downed my drink and got one more
I thought, I'd better have another
Before I stumbled out the door
Before I went, I ventured
To the jukebox, checked for change
The sign said "out of service"
I thought that that was strange
Twice now, "out of service"
In a message sent to me
Was I truly worth redemption
A hopeless case for all to see
I figured that tomorrow
If I found I woke up dead
"out of service" were the last words
That were emblazoned in my head
I went back to the barkeep
Ordered one more for the road
Then I downed another soldier
"out of service" number stowed
I'd laugh on this tomorrow
If I made it through this night
I was truly "out of service"
I need help to find the light.
Sep 17, 2016
Sep 17, 2016 at 2:41 PM UTC