"barman" poems
As I finish the book,
The guy in the corner says,
Are you a feminist for real or are you the extreme feminist just like they say?
Trouble,
Tugging,
Tension,
Haven't you ever heard these words my way ?
They spill out my pockets as I find a safe route to home today.
I,
I'm a person, I live to see my kids everyday,
I drive my car with the colt in the back to make sure I reach home today.
I,
I'm a fire, I'm a story to be told,
Yet I lock upon your entrance because for you I'm a singular sight to behold.
You,
You Animal,
You Unchastised Beast.
Struggle,
Strive,
Strenuous,
Strength,
Is the only way I fight your ***** hands off my naked body piece.
I,
I human,
I wrong,
I be the woman that calls hell upon.
You,
You be man,
You be government,
You be aid,
You filthy human being,
But I'm the one to blame.
You,
You liar,
You sniveling little rat,
I,
I innocent,
I sorry,
I right,
Yet I hide like a wet cat.
Naked,
Nauseous,
Nightmare,
The words I have befriended in the absence of the lord.
I,
I hungry,
I scared,
I lost,
I join my hands in agony and frustration for the only consented hand upon me is that of the god.
His,
His mother,
His sister,
His friend,
Be nothing to you,
You tear her body with your claws, your vein's pulsing with *****
You,
You drunk,
You wrong,
You animalistic,
Yet as you slide down my skinny jeans, in tonight's bet I'm the innocent one to lose.
I walk upon the sidewalk and all I hear you say,
You ****
You *****
You ***** from across the shore,
Why don't you slide that hoody up above your shoulders and show me some breast?
You look at me like I'm a chicken piece,
You drool and spank as I pass by
And look at me like I'm the one who suggest.
You,
You father,
You teacher,
You preacher,
You barman,
You taxi man,
You footballer,
You man.
I,
I wreck,
I cavity,
I ****
I **********
I slam piece,
I brothel but no church,
I woman and I naked.
So as I walk up home wearing those tiny shorts,
You pick me up in those black tinted window cars,
I scream,
I yell,
I beg,
I plead.
You shove it down my throat.
You tear my humanity,
You make me bleed.
You,
You stupid,
You arrogant,
You ignorant,
You fool.
You don't know my power for I'm the Gaya to your tomb.
You miscreant,
You rogue,
You bleeding stinking wretch.
You see that halo around me,
I'm your mother,
Your daughter,
Your sister,
Your wife,
Your god.
And every time you look at me with those ugly eyes,
I want you to see my halo glow.
As I picked up my book from the table,
A feminist, A masculinist,
A equality finder,
A woman,
A girl,
I find a name to pick and say,
And I look at your rustic self and I say
'You Don't Even Deserve To Know'
Feb 24, 2015
Feb 24, 2015 at 3:59 AM UTC
Gilhooley had ordered a meeting
Everyone had to come round
St. Patricks day will be upon us
And a venue just has to be found
We have to find somewhere authentic
Our normal old pub just won't do
We can't celebrate with the punters
Where the beer isn't green, it's dyed blue
Gilhooley awaited suggestions
It had to be somewhere close by
There were all sorts of names on the table
So they decided to give them a try
It needed to be "somewhat old Irish"
with no dee jay, and a folky type band
they had to have red headed women
And a barman, with drinks poured and at hand
The first place they went was McKenna's
It seemed like a great place at first
but the service was slower than treacle
and a man would just die here of thirst
They found one that looked rather Irish
It was known as the new *** of gold
it had a rainbow outside on the awning
this should have been a warning fortold
the next one they tried was a classic
The green and gold tavern....a hit
but, it was booked on the day for a party
and this didn't please them one bit
they finally found one to their liking
full of guineess and pretty colleens
a punjabi bar by the name of ben doury's
where everything was curried and green
it was a party that no one remembered
that meant that it must have been good
nobody went to the jailhouse
even though three or four of them should
The beer and the curry were epic
the singing was like nothing we'd heard
a sitar and cymbal based trio
played so loud that nothing was heard
Gilhooley said next year we have to
come back here and do it again
It was the best St. Patty's ever
most of them passed out by ten
The next time you go out to party
call Ben Doury, the place is spot on
the food and the beer are one colour
with a Punjabi Mumbai Leprachaun
Mar 10, 2015
Mar 10, 2015 at 11:51 PM UTC
He heard a last echoed clink of liquor-laden ice-cubes,
Stuck between two stools that screamed for company,
I gazed across his vacant stare to the barman –the silent DJ,
Professionally ignorant as I gestured my hoarse thirst,
I waited a little minute, another minute an’ just one more,
Enter our businessman, full-schedule, long-hauled to drink,
With a rib-eye steak of a face an’ breath surely barbecued,
Two satisfied cheeks, pink-puffed with brows fit for burial,
Teeth ground with tension but brighter than the lighting
A fungal-lung nose perched upon a smile that I could smell,
He plumbed himself wet-shave close to my stiffened neck,
“..Hana Drink..?” (Silence) best to follow the DJ’s example,
(Bullish huffs) (Lips licked) “.. Ya’ll wantin’ a drink, Mister?..”
Flustered by the company, I replied “..Non, Je think eh Je chi..”
A retort of sorts, faux languages not my degree, “..Leaba..Bed!”
Spluttered just at the end – an insulting first impression,
He seemed nervously joyous, loosened from being himself,
Yet his trouser belt buckled, pulled tight to conversation level,
An’ Redwood-trunk hands, alive with the latest deal struck,
“..Bedtime for us..” he bare-bawled, splitting my weary eyes,
His numbed arm clumsily flung around me, “..bedtime for us!..”,
DJ unmuted, the music paused, I mouthed softly “..just the bill..”
(Silence)
“..Who’s Bill?.. a friend?…Is he cute?.. So this drink?” I panic still.
Dec 30, 2013
Dec 30, 2013 at 11:15 AM UTC
It would tie your brain up in a knot,
the clink of glasses on the barman's grate,
and the tones of creaky Dublin croaking,
In darkness, mourning the death, of the daytime light.
It would I say, to grasp the slender neck,
and to lift it, smiling, glancing beyond the glass,
at winking eyes and clinking pints of plain,
My brain is in a knot, when I think of you.
I held you on the banks, of the royal canal,
knew then what all the bards and lovers mean,
say it was the light reflected in their eye,
I never did hear tell, of eyes to rival glass
Yet confound revealing daytime light,
you are liquid of the night, stout and dark,
rebuke me not, till your own brain too,
Has been left in knots, by the dark slender boy.
Sep 12, 2014
Sep 12, 2014 at 6:47 PM UTC
I can do this too, when I'm not au naturel
And trying to beat all of your @sses with how well
I make the gentleman, how excellently I am the imp,
How swell I step, dancing, aside, how terribly I simp -
Sometimes catch me getting back and giving the barman a chance -
I heeded their call; I washed off the day, and stepped into a trance
Of raspberry, rose and sandalwood; I donned my blue and pink silk,
And my black boots, tights and blazer - She's got style; And in that ilk
I also painted my face, with blues, whites, pinks, blacks, golds
And it was late when I stepped out, and in the very holds
Of the night that a lady like I should find terrifying, but I walked
The quarter of an hour to the Silk Mill; talked
For something more like four or five,
Face sharp, hair artfully mad, alive
In every sense, aided by the fine cocktails in this student setting
I could enchant all in four languages, and I did, forgetting
For a bit that another one of my faces I believe to be repugnant:
Because it begs for attention; and my current, commanded it
Because I came expecting nothing, and asking nothing,
And I quite frankly didn't give a d@mn about much of anything,
But if I wasn't very much a part of the room, and very much she
Whom every boy needed to speak to, and would ideally keep the company
Of, if that wasn't I
Then every lie's a truth, and every truth, a lie.
Mar 20, 2022
Mar 20, 2022 at 11:15 AM UTC
There's a fella you've all heard of
From a sandy foreign place
He was sent down by his daddy
From somewhere in outer space
He died and he came back again
Then he hit the dusty road
Now he's there for me with a helping hand
When I've almost dropped my load
Jesus is my barman
I munch his salty nuts
He fills me up with lovin'
Till it rumbles in my guts
He's my one almighty Hoover
He ***** off all my sin
To all my tricky crevices
He bravely enters in
He eases through my tightest spots
He's always got my back
He lubricates my passage
Down the narrow winding track
He tinkers with my plumbing
Removes my stubborn stains
Then with his holy implement
He firmly rods my drains
Jesus is my bell-boy
In his elevatin' craft
He pushes on my button
Then he takes me up the shaft
He's my fire fighting saviour
When flames begin to roar
He grabs his mighty helmet
And he breaks in my back door
He's captain of my ******
Commander of my boats
Don't worry if you're sinkin' fast
Cos Jesus always floats
If you're cold and need to light a fire
The lord is right and good
There's one thing he's remembered for
It’s always having wood
Jesus is my dentist
He drills me with his bit
He fills up all my cavities
Then I gargle and I spit
And one day when it’s legal
We'll end our secret fling
With his ring on my finger
And his finger in my ring
Feb 8, 2013
Feb 8, 2013 at 10:46 AM UTC
The coffee cups are *****
But it’s the cleanest way
To drink whiskey here.
The barman lost half his right fingers
To a wood chipper in his early 20’s
And spent the rest of his adult life
Flipping the world off.
He got it down to a fine art
By the time I showed up.
He didn’t smile when I ordered my drink.
He didn’t smile at all.
The jukebox hasn’t changed
For two stagnant decades
And most everyone but the regulars
Are too scared to use it.
It’s the same rotation
Of Elvis,
Muddy Waters,
BB King,
John Coltrane,
And early Bruce Springsteen.
Not a woman in sight
But every song is about them
And we are all here
Because of them.
Certain patches of carpet
Have not seen a crack of light
Since the Berlin Wall fell.
Nothing changes here but the customers-
And that change is incremental at best.
The same filthy etchings over
The same filthy cubicle doors.
The same Cherokee Indian
Smoking a Cuban Cigar
In the heartland of America.
I can’t find myself here
But there is no feeling of loss.
There is no profundity in anything here.
Just squalor
And enjoying one’s squalor.
I think that is what it means
To be truly happy.
Aug 17, 2018
Aug 17, 2018 at 5:24 AM UTC
hand me a whiskey
Mr Barman
hand me a whiskey
as quick as you can
all the answers
to my life's somersaults
will be found
in its soothing malt
hand me a whiskey
it'll fix everything
hand me a whiskey
it'll fill my bruised skin
I'll be numbed
but that's okay
a shot of whiskey
helps me through the day
hand me a whiskey
Mr Barman
hand me a whiskey
as quick as you can
all the answers
to my life's somersaults
will be found
in its soothing malt
the mountains of worries
I've had will fade
with a glass of whiskey
as my aid
so don't keep me waiting
for that drink
Mr Barman you can
iron out all my chinks
my world is collapsing
in on me
all I want is a little taste
of whiskey
I can't face the day
without a drop
it is my
most important prop
hand me a whiskey
Mr Barman
hand me a whiskey
as quick as you can
Dec 3, 2013
Dec 3, 2013 at 6:55 AM UTC
Miss Maitland went
to the fancy dress party
dressed as a nun
Benedict went clothed
as a priest(Church
of England kind)
which made her
even more inaccessible
than before he thought
seeing her enter the hall
in her black and white habit
and that face
which echoed purity
her small slim fingers
raised as if to bless
those present
which included the host
dressed as the Devil in red
Miss Maitland walked
to the bar and ordered
a lemonade and gin
is that wise?
said the barman with a grin
she laughed
and he poured anyway
Benedict nodded
and she smiled
then talked to another
clothed as a monk
and laughed
and Benedict's hopes
(whatever they
may have been)
were he concluded
sunk
he sipped his beer
and walked and sat down
gazing at her
standing there
all her best bits
covered up
her tight ****
and delightful behind
gone from sight
now the Devil
was chatting her up
his tail hanging
from behind
his fingers holding
a red wine
Benedict sipped more
of his beer
saw her wander off
to talk with some girl
dressed
as a gangster's moll
right down to the 1920s
cloth of dress
and cut of hat
Benedict didn't fancy her
and that was that
he just wanted
Miss Maitland
sans her habit
of black and white
he liked her in her
tight jeans and top
with her fair hair
flowing free
or held back
in a pony tail
walking up and down
the aisle of the shop
serving customers
wiggling her behind
as she went talking
in her middle class prose
giving Benedict
a studious stare
and he studying her
thinking of his bed
at home
with him and her
lying there.
Sep 22, 2013
Sep 22, 2013 at 3:09 AM UTC
Man enters the tavern
Claps down some cash and outbursts ;
'Thirsty Things Firstly !'
The barman evaluates his condition
And provides a session brew
Man tilts toward potential company
(a ferrety bloke in the shadows)
"Pull up that stack of milk crates
And halve a heart with me"
(he earns a quick friend
in a tolerant stranger)
Soon fellow gaspers fill out the gloom
And an eve of humour descends
Though soon upending
Gourds downed the gullet
Sunk ugly into the scene
The tippling wit drags the night
to the Slurry Pit
things turn Psychologically Rugged
his Mates soon round on him
bulldozing at the Elbows
saying he's a Cheapskate
they Berate him with rigorous Rattleprat
he's been goated with the Cain's mark
they tousle his crown malicious
Thorough in his cups and eaves
he mumbles and leaves
heaving up bile words
unheard
gurgle
over
his
shoulder
outside is dark and harsh
Outside the whole wild world does wail and weary
drunkenly
he sings to match its melancholy
but sadness lifts with his altered view
he sees 'a flock of moons' weigh down the sky
and natures churn
makes a phosphorescent stew of it all
... decay
to lifes' celebration
Jun 27, 2022
Jun 27, 2022 at 9:04 PM UTC
there was a sky show over Sydney this morning and if you are wondering
who was involved, well it was a huge party on jupiter and saturn and i was
the host i sang
hot hot hot and spicy baby
hot hot hot and really spicy baby
yeah nobody does chicken like KFC
and if you are wondering where i am, just go to Sydney and look to the sky
and look up all so high, yeah mate yeah it is so fun
yeah kick the rich snobs up the ***
you see i put this concert on to bring a bit of excitement to this city but you only saw
the lights, i can guarantee that what i say here is what the dead had a finger on
you see here is Slim Dusty with his song
it’s lonesome away from the kindred and all
on a cold sydney morning a view worth seeing
you see the people are fools right on our mother earth
because only the cosmic and the dead knows what went on
you see the barman is waiting for his stock to arrive
and it is mighty hard to get there by get in your car and drive
i told the barman give us methane oh yeah
so we dan enjoy the break in a party with methane
you see the green was the methane spilling all over sydney
but none of it was spilt, here is Robert Palmer with Addicted to love
the lights are on and Sydneym is home and the people are watching
a great light show with loads of great colours that you have ever seen
you see you can’t be seen you can’t be viewed y
you like to think that you are in a wonderful party
with me and slim dusty and many many more and the great smoky dawson
you see you will like to think that you are enjoying yourself and you are
in the way, of being addicted to love
you might as well face it your addicted to love
might as well face if your addicted to love
you might as well face it your addicted to love
oh yeah, the party is on and now here is our song duncan by slim
i would love to have a beer with duncan and he’ll have a beer with me
you see we’ll be good mates forever and we light up a party in the sky of sydney
we drink all over the country, getting ****** as we might do
i would love to have a beer with duncan cause he is our mate
i would love have a beer with baz boy, yeah i would love to have a beer with him
yeah we will drink all over this god forsaken land and in the cosmos, oh yeah mate yeah
drinking is fun with baz boy, yeah drinking is fun oh yeah
yeah i would love to have a beer with bas boy, cause he is our friend
and now here is briano alliano with fly burgers
fly burgers are good enough to eat
fly burgers are such a tasty treat
just catch a blowie between two buttered buns
add some lettuce and tomato and have so much fun
in sydney there is a light show from outer space
it’s really the dead people having the biggest party oh yeseree
a fly will come into dads methane, and totally splash all over him
fly burgers are good enough to eat
fly burgers are such a tasty treat
just catch a blowie before he ruins the party
add some lettuce and tomato
and have so much fun
and now here is whitney houston, ready to party, hardy
oh i wanna dance with somebody
i want to feel the groove with somebody
oh yeah, i wanna dance with somebody, with somebody who loves me
one dance and a spirt of methane to tip all over me
you see the light show looks like it’s so fun, come and cheer on me
and welcome all the dead, you see this is a sign, that just because your dead doesn’t mean
your gone from us oh yeah
i wanna dance with somebody, i wanna feel the heat with somebody
i wanna dance with somebody, with somebody who loves me
and what a party this has turned out to be
right over the sydney sky
sydney sydney sydney oi oi oi
and now that is it, what a fantastic show, we might come back with more party moves on that position over sydney
sydney sydney sydney oi oi oi, and let’s party cosmos
Jun 23, 2015
Jun 23, 2015 at 4:55 AM UTC
Said the Codger in the corner
Of the pub at Avonlea
“There’s a missus, who I’d kisses
If she’d sit upon me knee”.
“But I’m eighty, like me matey
And I’m too inclined to ***
So I’ll leave her to another
And keep my faithful Tennessee!”
Said the barman to the Codger
“Well you see here my old friend!
You’ve been sitting in the corner
Since ya leg would no more bend”.
“You’ve been drinkin all me whisky
Yep your love from Tennessee!
Don’t ya know ya have a misses
And she’s looking out for ye.”
Said the Codger to the barman
“Mate now you just let me be
I’ve paid ya all good money
For me love from Tennessee!”.
“And me misses whom I kisses
Who is waiting home for me
Is all weathered, worn and weary
And she naggeth poor old me.”
Said the lady at the counter
Who’d not sit upon his knee.
“Mister if you loved and kissed her
She’d no longer naggeth ye!”
Said the Codger to the lady
“Well Ok! Now let me see
I’d go home to see me misses
But will not leave my Tennessee!”
Oct 21, 2009
Oct 21, 2009 at 1:00 AM UTC
SHORE LEAVE
the sea louder in the dark
throwing off its shackles
walking into town
mystified seagulls
flying over with a caw
a sea no longer there
a tram screeching
on its points
the sea jumps aboard
the sea sat at the bar
somehow getting its vast bulk
perched upon a high stool
the sea enjoying the karaoke
singing along to The Honeydippers
eating bag after bag of peanuts
"Have ye no beds to go home to!"
barks a barman
his belly slopping over his belt
the sea happy
to escape itself
even for the time being
drunk on being
human if only for a while
the sea staggers back to the shore
Sep 2, 2018
Sep 2, 2018 at 4:52 PM UTC
Some days he'll dress in new or old
But with a smile always so sharp
His walking charm will take a toll
When the woman turns to dark
His snaking charm strolls to the pub
Where the slags and twonks *** around
Nothing but warm hands and pint to grub
Where the woman he sees is found
She spits bleeding words from her filthy mouth
As he scorns them back with his hand
The red only cries when she screams in doubt
The snake gives her his looking glan
Someone thought to call for help
But no help had ever arrived
The barman listened to the poor woman's yelp
People pretend she never cried
The smiling man of ruthless charm
Walks down the stairs of death
Vehemence covered with blood and sin
Whereas mannequin slags spread grim
In forms of angelic old and new
His inhibited shape had grew
More evil it grew as his smile knew
His deliverance was joyful harm
He preached to barman to slags to twonks
His ways of nature so brash and ******
From snake to wolf to man dressed well
Even a preacher of God his allure so grand
The cunting ***** bemoaned downwards
Dampened with red paint shrieked foreign words
With her limbs cut open, "Deliverance is God"
Finding it was the charming man who smiled as a sod
Dec 26, 2013
Dec 26, 2013 at 12:36 PM UTC
Longing the curse of
Human Satisfaction
I clear my throat
Remembering the madness of a storming boat
The whipping winds
Introduced a chaos
That infinity even had to question
Correcting confidences like a teacher would the troublemaker
Insanity rides high,
Protecting itself from women
That they thought they knew at the time
But soon discovered
They wouldn't even lend'em a dime
I lost track of something way back when
But now see that I was never young
Just not strong enough to grip the gun
Forgetful through shallow puddles of dampening and soggy
Love
I try to structure these thoughts
But only produce
Ashy white doves
For the fire inside all of us is burning hard and eternal
There is no hope that can forever float
So in these times after alabaster marble shiners
And politicians pinching pennies naked in front of camera's
A policemen whispers to a friend he hates the leader
And soon is bludgeoned and branded a freak
Forever dead dreams in a child's mind is the place I wish to be
Away from the hanging school halls
Away from the broken bottle battalions
A place directed towards indirectness
Where mystery lightly grips its boot heels
Ready to flee at any chance given to thee
Startling laughter rests in the ears of men un-hearing
Obsessed pig tail wearing women
Upset the gifted girl a la two first names
Swinging herself madly and wildly
With words she herself cannot even understand or control
But Oh the traces of mastery and genius with clouded perceptions
Of shadows contemplating Aristotle easily
For the barman is asking for the tab now
And the lonesome nights I knew before
Still await me once again
As the same dead knights rest in books
On high ancient shelves
In dusty far away nooks
Feb 27, 2011
Feb 27, 2011 at 11:34 AM UTC
perhaps I was twenty-six
she looked me over and soon enough
the walk to her place was zip, zap, zoop;
meaning, although the barman called
me over to tell me she had recently stabbed
or had tried to stab a bartender from
down the street,
my only concern was another mandrax, a
joint of kashmir hashish with thick ***** streaks
and, most certainly, a new escape; a new woman
the floor (a penthouse apartment, mind you):
much water from an overflowing sink...then, there's
the layer of dust on the dishes of the dish rack...and, not
to forget, the four or five
frightening knives, all very reachable
then, she introduces me to her first
jumping up and down episode--hollering,
"you're my father! I must **** you!"
how I spent two or was it three days with
her dumbfounds me these days...the fool, me,
I remember, first turned off the water
and mopped dry the floor...the miracle of
how my hand awoke and grabbed her wrist,
with the blade's tip an inch from my heart,
will have to wait another session with Harmony
--that She may reach into my mind and
pull out a more clear version of the epilogue
of this is-it-a-poem which I've written
in numerous other versions over the years
~~
..(C)2011/2012 Spiros Zafiris
..channeled; spirit Harmony; reaching into the poet's heart
~~
Nov 3, 2012
Nov 3, 2012 at 4:10 AM UTC
Ole planned
to go
to Las Vegas
but he didn't make it
his untimely death
got in the way
(such are the plans
of mice and men
they say)
he even noted it
on his
Face Book page
mentioned
in passing
as if
a whole clear road
was visible ahead
(now he's dead)
but I can can see him
now in spirit
making his
own way there
taking in
the bright lights
the neon signs
the shows
to be seen
(getting in for free too
what a Mutley laugh
that will bring)
and Ole
in his black hat
and coat and shirt
and dark shades
making his way
at his own
slow pace
around the casinos
his ghostly hand
pulling a few arms
of one armed bandit
machines
while the punters
look on
**** witless
as the arm
goes down
again and again
or in the other games
I can see you
taking your own part
your sense
of gamble and fair play
wandering the tables
ghostly whispering
advice
(in your quiet voice
being nice)
having a cool beer
at the bar
or Jim Beam
or Jameson
if they've got it
you sitting there
the barman unaware
you there
taking in
the whole scene
the big shows
the bright lights
neon signs
wish I
could go there
with you
walk at your side
sharing a beer
or whiskey
a soft conversation
or that special silence
we often shared
when words
weren't needed
where the bond
was strong
go to Vegas my son
go to Las Vegas Ole
take in
the whole scene
of Vegas fun
my departed son.
Feb 14, 2014
Feb 14, 2014 at 1:40 AM UTC
hand me a whiskey
Mr Barman
hand me a whiskey
as quick as you can
all the answers
to my life's somersaults
will be found
in its soothing malt
hand me a whiskey
it'll fix everything
hand me a whiskey
it'll fill my bruised skin
I'll be numbed
but that's okay
a shot of whiskey
helps me through the day
hand me a whiskey
Mr Barman
hand me a whiskey
as quick as you can
all the answers
to my life's somersaults
can be found
in its soothing malt
the mountains of worries
I've had will fade
with a glass of whiskey
as my aid
so don't keep me waiting
for that drink
Mr Barman you can
iron out all my chinks
my world is collapsing
in on me
all I want is a taste
of whiskey
I can't face the day
without a drop
it is my most important
prop
hand me a whiskey
Mr Barman
hand me a whiskey
as quick as you can
Aug 23, 2014
Aug 23, 2014 at 9:00 AM UTC
In the dream Ginsberg tells me I am beautiful,
he moves his stool a little closer to mine
to see me in the dull glow of the bar.
I sip at my cocktail as he takes Howl from his briefcase,
tells me Jack loves my baby-blue eyes.
Somewhere at the back of the bar
I can hear the jazz men munching sandwiches,
chatting to the girls who bring them empty beer glasses
for coins to be dropped into, for requests to fill.
The old poet with his Buddhist waistcoat
wants to change the world with his masturbatory atom bomb,
wants the President of the United States
to be silent, to be silent, to be
silent.
So Ginsberg calls the barman Moloch,
wants him to find himself in a wounded page
filled with Christmas catalogues that make the children sing.
It’s a bald-guy thing he tells the beer puller,
‘Look at the jazz boys **** the metal,
sweet sounds, Jimmy The Joe makes , sweet sounds.’
The barman wants the music to end
just long enough for him to miss the woman he loves.
‘So get your heart in a sonnet,’ Ginsy tells him
‘Get your heart in a ******* sonnet, gypsy caravan boy.’
I put my fingers to my temples, try to bring the poems together,
try to imagine the perfect microphone in the Kaddish hand.
Tell me another three line joke, Alan,
tell me the one about the Arabic love call you never heard
when your papyrus was just desert dust.
You know the one, Allen. You know the one.
The jazz boys find their lips as Ginsberg finds his tear ducts;
I want him to chant his evolution into the mind of the sax solo.
‘It’s just us,’ he tells me, ‘we’re saving the world, Johnny Boy,
the greatest minds of my generation were ****** up the ***
so you ungrateful rhyming ******** could put colour on your book covers;
you see Lawrence throwing his spanners into the printing press?
That’s our little revolution: cherubic haiku page numbers
just waiting for the computer evolution to do something worthwhile.’
So Alan sorts his papers and gives that little attention-seeking-cough
the barman has been waiting all night for.
He pours the drinks, cuts the lime,
lets the poets supply their own anecdotes for this one-night-stand
that’s going to set every ******* pulse racing,
every heartbeat breaking for the goatee beard going grey.
In the dream Ginsberg tells me I am beautiful.
I tell him his spotlight is shining.
Dec 29, 2011
Dec 29, 2011 at 5:47 PM UTC
Simon “Hurricane” Hudson prowls the snooker table
Like any good mixed metaphor would.
A modern day Pythagoras
He triangulates his shots.
Meanwhile his rival, lion-heart "Rocket" Richard,
Not to be confused with Lionel Richie,
Is on his mobile Googling
How to play the perfect “snooker”.
And the two Perfect Pauls
Discuss the latest football,
While “Whirlwind” Wendy sits in judgement,
Knitting the night away.
At long last Simon plays a stroke!!!
And rattles those unrelenting jaws
Of that elusive pocket yet again.
The game rolls on.
But where the hell is Simon?
The clock on the electricity is running down
But where is Simon?
Where is he?
He’s at the bar
Telling barman Nick how Rochdale
Will win The Cup one day.
Hurray, he’s back to play again.
Cascading planets collide into new orbits
As they did in the Primeval Solar System.
We play on,
Safely keeping those precious *****
Away from those black holes
They call the “pockets”.
We try to pick our shots
(At those pockets lol)
But all we keep potting
Is that white one.
Maybe we should switch to Billiards,
Or *** some plants instead.
Paul Butters
Aug 17, 2017
Aug 17, 2017 at 10:13 AM UTC
From Dover
to Zeebrugge
across on the ferry
Moira said nothing
kept herself
to herself
except moaning
at her brother
until you reached
the base camp
outside the port
and in the bar
after seeing
the caravans
instead of tents
she said
did you see the state
of those caravans?
talk about dosshouses
you studied her
as she spoke
her lips moving
ten to the dozen
her eyes blazing
like a lit up
Swan Vesta
you saw her
short frame shake
with her anger
I’ve told Billy
to have a go
but will he?
no ****
he won’t say boo
to a ghost
if it was tired
to a chair
and on she went
her words spreading
through the bar
like spilt oil
but all the time
her eyes
were on you
her hands gesturing
the thumb
pointing back
towards
the caravans
the barman
a Belgium guy
gazed at her
bemused
wiping glasses
in the background
someone put a coin
in the jukebox
and out played
loud and clear
Heartbreak Hotel
and all you
could think was
I wonder how she kisses
this wild eyed girl?
Dec 9, 2012
Dec 9, 2012 at 4:26 AM UTC
I love shopping for music online.
I always do.
I love the way they say to you.
If you like Beyonce, then you might like Pink.
Would it not be nice.
If all life did that.
After ten pints down the pub.
The Barman says to you.
If you like ten pint in this pub.
Then you might like a kebab.
Then at the kebab shop he says to you.
If you like ten pints in the pub then a kebab.
You might like a fight.
So you pop out, and beat up an innocent by stander.
Then a Policeman shouts at you.
If you like beating up an innocent by stander.
You might like to join the Police!
Mar 11, 2012
Mar 11, 2012 at 1:02 PM UTC
Blokes in the bar sure do say some weird stuff
Like "love to **** her ******* and eat her ****
Seem to have animals on their mind all the while
"I'd like to see her ***** or do her doggy style"
What does all that mean? I'd really love to know
And how does a woman have a nice Camel Toe?
If a woman comes close and she's a real **** one
One of them may say "I'd like to give the ferret a run"
A bloke went to the toilet seemed quite annoyed
Said he was gonna shake hands with the unemployed
"You mean syphon the python" asked one of the men
"Not really, just shake hands with the wives best friend"
He said he wanted a ***** to his wife late last night
"Gee mate you shoulda seen it, I had a mongrel alright"
Apparently she said "no" and he threatened to leave her
Said he wasn't hanging around if he didn't get any ******
Fred said his wife was gorgeous and he had always adored
But lately she was off *** didn't want any more pork sword
Frank's wife was the same and she hardly left the cottage
Would never let Frank touch her or play hide the sausage
Max, reckoned he'd nearly had more than a man could take
Couldn't get near the missus with his one eyed trouser snake
As for Gerard, He said "think my wife's taking me for a sucker"
"Told me to keep away with the blue veined custard chucker"
A **** dark woman walked past, Marty said "I'd give her a ride"
The barman just laughed and mumbled "they are all pink inside"
Jack joined in saying "leave it alone Marty or you'll get blisters"
"Besides, if you turn them upside down they're definitely sisters"
In the bar I heard a bloke say "I'd give her the old Wham Bam"
"Sure would like to get the old love muscle up her bearded clam"
As the bar closed Jerry joked " If the flags are up at my place"
"I'll put my ***** between her ***** give her a pearl necklace"
All these men laugh and joke as the barman says to the group
"You buggers won't get any because you'll have brewers droop"
As I finish my wine and leave someone says "on ya bike ya miser"
Do you know what they are on about? because I'm none the wiser
Jul 19, 2014
Jul 19, 2014 at 9:51 PM UTC