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12 Bar Blues

Another case of being spontaneously obnoxious...

Battered trucks and broken hearts,
Lovesick cowboys and love torn apart
Are all that the jukebox sees to play.
I look around and don’t know what to say.
The man in the corner is crying in his bar,.
The woman at the bar won’t let any man near.
This cowboy bar has got the blues.
Everyone here has lost all they can lose.
I guess I’m the one that’s out of place.
I’m the only one hear with a smile on my face.
Everyone hear just scowls at my grin.
You’d thank that being happy is a serious sin.
That’s okay, I know where to go,
Where the music’s fast and thought’s are slow.
I suck down my beer and head for the car.
I steer myself towards a rock&roll bar.
 
playful sky

playful sky



music's beautiful puppet
of the PlayFool bar
will your two beer bottles
overflow with love?

topless endless boundless
infinitely high
the two black stars stare at me
from the PlayFool's sky

endless boundless hopeless
the pipe smoke of my heart
tries to be a cloud
a hammock for the stars

music's beautiful puppet
of the PlayFool bar
when your two beer bottles
overflow with love?​





wh,
1981
 
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who care?

who care?



flying flowing rolling ... glued
to the wall to the chair to the table
the light's a pain but who care
she do not cares i does not cares
nobody care what did I want to say

marijuana vodka flu glue
your chair to the floor or stroll
i talk like a king
not a word wasted
i feel simple
i feel simply great
only deep deep deeper inside
i talk nonsense
i say:

come to me
thru flu and glue and alcohol
with open arms or with a sword
and hold me tight or cut my head away
set yourself into motion
my head'll roll into the ocean​





wh,
1981/2
 
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under the hunters moon

theres Lilly Marlain
raincoat torn at the shoulder
for someone who drinks so much
she never seems to get older
Ronnos in one of his moods
feeling whiskey down
certain that all his best roads
lead him straight out of town
Mattys ulcer is acting up
he throws down tequila and milk
"owners perogative" he says
a lil sandpaper and a lil silk
up comes Chezzie
and knocks away my book
"have you seen the moon Terence"
we both take a look
the same moon you see i think to myself
the very same sky
good enough i convince myself
as we hit the door and fly.
 
trapped regulars-

hes prattling on again
"my best days behind me"
as if Craigy really listens.
and he whines about smoking too much
as he smokes
and swears he'll quit drinkin
and silently signals for another-


and im just in to hear the band
who laugh as they listen to him whine.

setting up before the crowd arrives
watching the townies moan.
 
Closing time

Eagleyez' tip of the hat to Leonard Cohen two posts up made me think...

(always a dangerous thing)

... probably the best 12 Bar Blues Poem of all time is "Closing Time"

So we’re drinking and we’re dancing
And the band is really happening
And the johnny walker wisdom running high
And my very sweet companion
She’s the angel of compassion
And she’s rubbing half the world against her thigh
Every drinker every dancer
Lifts a happy face to thank her
And the fiddler fiddles something so sublime
All the women tear their blouses off
The men they dance on the polka-dots
And it’s partner found and partner lost
And it’s hell to pay when the fiddler stops
It’s closing time

We’re lonely, we’re romantic
And the cider’s laced with acid
And the holy spirit’s crying, ’where’s the beef? ’
And the moon is swimming naked
And the summer night is fragrant
With a mighty expectation of relief
So we struggle and we stagger
Down the snakes and up the ladder
To the tower where the blessed hours chime
And I swear it happened just like this
A sigh, a cry, a hungry kiss
The gates of love they budged an inch
I can’t say much has happened since
But closing time

I loved you for your beauty
But that doesn’t make a fool of me
You were in it for your beauty too
I loved you for your body
There’s a voice that sounds like God to me
Declaring that your body’s really you
I loved you when our love was blessed
And I love you now there’s nothing left
But sorrow and a sense of overtime
And I miss you since the place got wrecked
By the winds of change and the weeds of sex
Looks like freedom but it feels like death
It something in betwen, I guess
It’s closing time

We’re drinking and we’re dancing
But there’s nothing really happening
The place is dead as heaven on a saturday night
And my very close companion
Gets me fumbling gets me laughing
She’s a hundred but she’s wearing
Something tight
I lift my glass to the awful truth
Which you can’t reveal to the ears of youth
Except to say it isn’t worth a dime
And the whole dam place goes crazy twice
And it’s once for the dvil and it’s once for christ
But the boss don’t like these dizzy heights
We’re busted in the blinding lights
Of closing time
Click to expand...


Thanks eagleyez for the poems and the memory jog.

Hope Leonard doesn't mind the company he's in. Hehe.

Respectfully as always,

darkmaas
 
Well Darkmaas, your more than welcome for the memory jog. I had been playing and singing "Famous Blue Raincoat" when i conceived that little verse found above. Cohen has always inspired me with his music and narratives. His characters, in this case Lilly Marlain, are all very real in his work. Im glad you recognized the intertextual reference. It was my intention indeed.

As one who primarily writes prose, it is an honor and a pleasure to mingle on these pages with yourself and all the other poets here. I continue to marvel at the quality and depth of so much of the poetry i read here.

Bravo to all.
:)
 
late, but inspired

P.J. Carney's

Paudy the irish drunk
hides whisky in his
coffee cup
serving liquor to us
while he tries to find
a bride

Hector the swarthy Dominican chef
orders "bre-fast"
and after we all down the royal crown
we wonder at his
beauty

The regulars, a cokehead, a drunk
and me
what was I exactly?

John, the addict
dancing with his
tall skinny body
to the tune of brickhouse
wondering how he danced
his life away

Raymond, the drunk we call froggy
in love with his best friend
and she can't see beyond
the booze herself
two broken ankles
and they hobble
back to the bar anyway

George, engaging
well, he asked me to marry him
anyway
why did I ever think to say yes?
of course I broke his heart
I had bigger plans
than a small town man
drowning

There were so many
in and out
those fingersmudged doors
on a prime street in Manhatten
I was just a girl
and one of the many
until
I traded my drinks
for smack

Thinking I was fine
having a party, a life
with these drunks
these three years
losing party pals
in a sniff
of indifference
 
Closing Time Redux

This bar
has no name as yet
likely the sort of place
you would forget
anyway

it's not the bird's nest
shining like a beacon
on the delaware
I stood outside once
there along the rail
next to the river, me
as pale as moonlight
on the water thinking
how the city to the east
looks beautiful this late
its daily grime covered
with night and houses
by the bank sparkle alight

It's not Elizabeth's
down the shore,
it's quieter, nor
is it Fekete's
full of go go sluts
where I was always
so embarrassed
when I went to see
my boyfriend play

Everyone who knows
me knows I'm not
the bar type anyway
never knew how to act
who to believe you can
believe it's true I'm likely
more naive than you more
than all the poetry I write
might make you misconstrue

but I came here
at this late date
for one more bar
for one more night
at this late hour still
it seems it's not too late
there's someone
in a booth alone
and staring out one
window staring at the moon
head full of song, of poem

and in the instant
of a passing train
a whistle blown
there's only one thing
left to do
walk to the booth
and take his hand
Cmon Terence
time to go home.
 
P.J. Carney's

Years were spent
watching the world go by
through those neon trimmed windows
every other central park carriage ride
had some guy
fingers inserted
into what we called the "cp mitten girls"
I bet they thought they were the only ones
trying to keep warm

let me tell you, honey,
exhibitionism in NYC isn't original
and we voyeurs have seen it all
while we sniff lines
the size of manhattan
off the sticky bar

using phone books to prop yourself up
so some bartender can fuck you
the way you like it
hard from behind
all this snow for free
so you sniff again
not knowing whether it's disdain
for the words in this impromptu scrabble game
or the delicious nasal drip
that makes you gag
and long for another bump

you think to judge me, don't you?
that makes me laugh at you, tourist
watching what you think is my life
or what was left of it, anyway.

waking up, or sobering up enough
to lift my head out of a pile of vomit
thinking I was hearing the best joke
laughing with chunks of life stuck in my hair
telling the drunks to fuck off
running outside to him
the guy who gives me the ticket to this wild ride
opening my mouth
because I love him
why wouldn't I
he gave me this excellent life, showed me it's beauty
enveloped me in the delightful fetal position
wait

that's just him lying on the sidewalk
his blood coating my hands
I bet if I put my finger in that hole the bleeding will stop
I'm smart, you see, college educated.
I don't think blood is supposed to be outside of your body
I have to puke
no, no, it's not that...
I need another bump
I'm just sick.
 
after closing time...

Tom Waits

Invitation to the Blues


Well she's up against the register with an apron and a spatula,
Yesterday's deliveries, tickets for the bachelors
She's a moving violation from her conk down to her shoes,
Well, it's just an invitation to the blues


And you feel just like Cagney, she looks like Rita Hayworth
At the counter of the Schwab's drugstore
You wonder if she might be single, she's a loner and likes to mingle
Got to be patient, try and pick up a clue


She said How you gonna like 'em, over medium or scrambled?,
You say Anyway's the only way, be careful not to gamble
On a guy with a suitcase and a ticket getting out of here
It's a tired bus station and an old pair of shoes
This ain't nothing but an invitation to the blues


But you can't take your eyes off her, get another cup of java,
It's just the way she pours it for you, joking with the customers
Mercy mercy, Mr. Percy, there ain't nothing back in Jersey
But a broken-down jalopy of a man I left behind
And the dream that I was chasing, and a battle with booze
And an open invitation to the blues


But she used to have a sugar daddy and a candy-apple Caddy,
And a bank account and everything, accustomed to the finer things
He probably left her for a socialite, and he didn't 'cept at night,
And then he's drunk and never even told her that her cared
So they took the registration, and the car-keys and her shoes
And left her with an invitation to the blues


Cause there's a Continental Trailways leaving local bus tonight, good evening
You can have my seat, I'm sticking round here for a while
Get me a room at the Squire, the filling station's hiring,
And I can eat here every night, what the hell have I got to lose?
Got a crazy sensation, go or stay? now I gotta choose,
And I'll accept your invitation to the blues
 
they cynical
laughing
in
memory
chairs
sighing
in
hard
booths
eye
contact
nuff
said.
 
It’s funny
When she gave that smile
That said tonight
I would gettin' lucky,
All I could think of
Was I hoped I had
Enough quarters
For the vibrating bed
At the Lonely Hearts Hotel.
 
Emperess Hotel
Bengal Room
Christmas eve

We drank
rusty nails
bracing for a day
in the old folks home

Aromas of peat and honey
will never hide the memory of
urine and industrial disinfectant

"Don't forget to tip the waiter.
Hope they find a sober Santa this year."
 
benny the merchant marine
bleats on about how lost his
life is-
but he makes the big cash
and he's ponying up for drinks
so
we pretend to listen.


the night after
thanksgiving
nobody
in
town.
 
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Benny's shippin out in 2 and a wake up
slinging cash for rounds
hes been smoking herb with anyone who will listen
and the Frenchman is down from the mountains
lost his job at the paper mill
and tints his grey mustache with
cran and stoley
feels a little vein in his worried neck tingle
and reads his adult education papers
while Brett rubs his skinny goatee
telling premature ejaculation stories again
and Craigy feeds free drinks to the sullen
greek girl with the frantic eyebrows raised
while Matty pretends to vermouth his martini
and unbuttons strangling jeans around his
Christmas gut and Furry Sings The Blues slips thru the
lamped light of the room.

Quinn looks southwest and sees
Venus hugging the crescent moon-
asks to hear some Mingus.
cuts on his hands are healing he sees.

Chezzie belts into his Sean Connery gag and
it starts to snow on the night after Chrismas
rivergleams out understars hung like pinholes
in the breathing black nite.
 
i overheard her pleading
"why so sad"
and ice jingled in tall glasses
and he leaned in and said
"we never talked'
and downed his drink like a streetdrain while
reverb harmonica crescendoed like a
tiny thunderstorm
there in the
tender
moment


the cops came in and hauled
craigy out
he lived
large
for just a
little too
long

sweet mystery
in these
lonesome
towns
and
i
finger
my
car
keys.
 
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Darkness
calling you out.
"come find me here"
afraid of silence
the T.V. roars and
no one talks.
Over there - yes -
behind you,
that man is crying
alone at his table.
Don't stare!
he might see.
he wipes his table with a napkin
as if swabbing away
his despair.
 
she showed me the top
of her new purple thong
and I said "sweetie im here for 2 for 1 burger night"
i drank rank
iced tea
and a guy in a red sox hat
said "i like that color"

and i said "do you have any dijon mustard?"


a pack of crows
watched a biblical sunset,
huffy teachers talkin smack,
wanting me
to give them all
the skinny-the lowdown-

"you never come around"

wrong i thought-comin around as we speak.

shake hands and give hugs

"nothin much to tell, hows the grindstone?"

they drank dark beer that milos had cured that day
and I found my keys.

now, where did I park?







springtime baby.

"see ya soon"
 
12 bar blues revisited

Ronno spent the Summer in Acadia working a Lobster pound, Craigy had to bail the region, on the Video beef his mad Girlfriend popped him for.

Frank's ticker is in the shop, last we heard they drained 20 pounds of fluid fron his gut. Asa just made it safe and sound from another re-fueling sorte over in Turkey, he looked good as ever as we lamented the madness, him shaking his head.

"Ronno moved into an apartment next a funeral parlor. One of those refrigerator dollies will do quite nicely down the one flight of stairs."

"You Bastard," he retorted a with blue eyed grin.

Brett came in the office. He told us that they took down the winter awnings at the Black Bear.

"Im going home lads, if you see Chezzy, have him give me a bell. '

The Hawthorne and Mountain Ash were in evening bloom. The air smelled sweet.
 
I'm here, where are you?
This buzzing smoke hides my eyes
and makes me weep.
I'm waiting, where are you?
Excuses fall like beer mats
into soggy puddles that
hold no water.
Accepting that you've stood me up,
knocked me off
my already unsteady pedestal
hurts like Hell.
I'm watched with pity
by the happy-hour crowd
who recognize the signs
of dejected rejection
and know the whole sad tale
I pay my tab and haul my sorry ass
out into the comforting night.
 
Every bar is filled with hollow laughter,
pain the backbeat clanging a refrain
of desparate cheer, hail fellows met
not well but fallen to the spell
of bared teeth, beer that's spilled
or thrown against someone
who bellied up a bit too close
for comfort. Pedestals can crash
down to the floor of night and mugs
can drip with tears, not melting ice,
and still it's all alright mate, love
remains, the end's still make
and take, just like the song.

Once I came along into a place
like this and took a hand. The moon
was full that night I made a moonstruck
stand. Dawn came, days ebbed like tides
that might have seemed to grind
my pedestal to sand, but trust is strong
and love is stronger yet. Dear friends
can drink a toast, believe that hearts
entwine alive and trials of the purest
flame cannot make ash of what survives.
 
Sitting silent
Seeing nothing
A beer glass clasped
Loosely
A single swallow remaining
Dark eyes
Show closed windows
To the soul
Expressionless face
Offers nothing
Hunched forward
On the stool
The weight of the world
Rests on elbows
A single sigh
Glass raised
Emptied
Leaving a tip
And foam
In the bottom of the glass
He walks out
To the welcoming world

With practiced ease
The bartender reaches
For the tip
For the glass
Then wipes the bar
Ready for the next customer
 
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