On this starlit night I balter
Nubivagant am I, floating as I dance
Although my faith, it shan't ever falter
I can't shake the feeling of impending doom
Daring am I, for I shall bite this fruit
Foolish might I be, from the mouth I'll shoot
Devilish smiles, the owners I know
Fiendish agendas,unkempt is their false deity
Tenebrous alleyways,they are our friends
Pine I do,to retain my sobriety
All the time flies,no progress made
Alas I fear I've lost my own identity
To desert them,woe is me, 'tis a velleity
For my throat they'll slit,leave me be
Lord knows I'm guilty,come set me free
Ludic am I, in spite of my fate
The crawling anxious thoughts await
Darkly smile I do,wearin' a brave face
Ascension 'tisn't mine,demons leave not a trace
Not a soul shall avenge me
For I am stained, a heathen indeed
Judgement Day 'tis early for me
Holy light,it shines luminous upon me
Dammnation 'tis mine; Father I have failed thee

October’s storm was brutal,
drenching rain and heavy wind.
Our little tavern by the beach
started taking water in.
Then, when the storm surge
breeched the wall,
the place lacked all defense.
Waves swept away our little bar
leaving us just the front steps.

The “Pour House” now a memory
for its scattered congregation.
Mostly Irish Catholics who enjoyed
its liberal dispensations.

Some people prefer brews to pews
for fighting off dammnation.
So many demons haunt our souls
and these demand libations.

The juke box played sad Irish songs,
the only sort it knew,
while disorderly Hibernians
enjoyed their favorite brew.

Here the patrons much preferred
Draft Guinness in a glass
while stealing furtive glances
at my waitress’ shapely ***.
Here the women started homely
but were beautiful by close-
at least to those poor drunken sots
Who’d relieve them of their clothes,


By Christmas it was apparent
that the “Pour House” had to go.
There just wasn’t FEMA money
For an old man’s bar you know.
So word swept through the beach blocks
And it reached the subway station.
Gather at the Pour House Steps
for the New Year’s celebration.

Party favors must be had
So I bought some horns and hats.
Dry eyes and throats were disallowed
So I had free beer on tap.
That New Year’s Eve was cold and drear
When we held our celebration
Our dear old timers all appeared
for our “free beer” dispensation..
At midnight we stood on the steps
And had our photo taken.
We all hugged and went our separate ways
While inside our hearts were breaking.

The Pour house is a memory now.
I’ll miss those guys and girls.
It was a sort of Paradise,
a refuge from the world.