12 Bar Blues

Piss and cigarette mingle to make a stench
putrid, addictive
like smokes themselves that first draw, draws
a hacking cough from deep inside
fish hook sharp
the smell of the bar
it smells of home, of stumble walk
mumble-slur wordmashin talks
The worlds better filtered through that amber ambrosia
It makes sense when cents are spent and senses bent

anaesthesia dark sharp pricks numb
shot from a bottle in dry heave gulps
burps taste like unicorn shit
magic swallowed time slowed

pour me another wonder
as I solve the world's problems
but can't remember to shake my cock
when I piss, hug the toilet bowl
caress its porcelain face
flush my tears and sympathy
into sweet sewer water

Getsame a drink love
I haven't had enough
I can still feel the hole you left in my chest
 
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Well, you sure ruined my plans for tonight, tod
What? No urinal cakes cuz the taco bell closes at midnight?
The thngs we do for a broken heart
 
the robe hotel

Uni holidays are on
roll out windows down
computers off
heading up the cost to Robe
little pub on the beach front
cheap rooms balcony views
outback pub hospitality pool tables
As dance floors, let your hair down
get your tits out
beer skulling and messy shots of whatever the fuck
woooooooo, get me another blonde
with a partial degree
in blowjobology for practical course training
hangover recovery is a 9am beer
six hours of Cray fishing

Later well later it starts again
 
at the zoo

The Zoo burned down
so in the fumes of another
Phoenix fart
Zoo II arose
~the sequal
New rules
were posted on the door
then someone stole the door.
Shirts were rarely worn,
Beechnut and Copenhagen
splattered the floor
in a temperamental rain,
and the cussing reminded of
a butcher losing one more finger
to the slicer.
That's the women, the men
were worse.
"hey," I said, to the glassy eyed
bobblehead beside me.
"who's that?"
He squinted, leaned, and wobbled
like a sleepless sailor lost
in the soup.
"oh, that's Janey. Ain't she hot?"
She was, and my dick suddenly
forgot it was drunk.
Then he waved his hand like
a plague of fruitflies
had descended.
"you don't want her, pal.
I've heard stories"
"yeah, well I wouldn't mind
writing a chapter or two"
Just then, she looked my way,
hip swaggled to the pool table,
ignored the shoot half played,
dropped her pants
hopped on the corner
and sank her shot, with
perfect english.
And the entire time, she never
took her eyes off me.
"that's why they call her
The Madcrapper" my bobblehead
friend said just before hitting
the floor
leaving me alone
with the drunken monkeys
and an open table.
 
NEXT ROUNDS ON ME
shouted at the top of exhubarant lungs
the giddy glee needs to be shared
a shot of luck, a hot sip of spiced brews
round poured down in glass clinking grins

the jukebox blasts out I'm happy
we all sip down each smiling word
nod and foot tap to a beat that
is as infectious as white teeth curled cheeks

the barman claps along to match the song
between pouring drinks and slamming them back
no one leaves sober tonight so keep on picking them up
and dropping them back
 
It's always the quiet ones
Ya know?
Peoria
Second shifters,
John Deere tractors, and
a brass rail to dream
upon
Just a friday pass through
for a young innocent
skirtin the breeze
hearing the band
thirsty for beer
too weak for the tease
Her legs went to heaven
her boots down to hell
this statuesque beauty
in raven mane mystery
spurred me to swell
From the towering heights
her smile descended
I set down my beer
tackled my fear
and my hopes
were ammended.
What a lovely dance
so slow and close
she nibbled my ear
I swam in her hair
perfumed
in heavy dose
When it was over
she kissed me so sweet
I beamed like a fool
having tasted the lips
of Peoria's
elite.
The bartender nudged me
and then did divulge
"I hope you have lube,
didn't you notice the bulge?"
 
Haha I have a similar themed poem pensive only it really happened ..... :(

What makes you think this one didn't? Absolute truth from many naive days ago, but i remember it well. He/she was a great dance. I often wonder if we should've had a 2nd one.
 
Well, by the looks and giggles all around the bar, apparently i was the only one who didn't notice.
Maybe the fact that she was a good 6 inches taller than me shoulda tipped me off.
Reminded me of the scene from "bachelor party"
 
The Game

Here,
nothing is as it seems
winsome badinage
entrancing televisions
barmaids playing virtuoso smiles
and the four quarter shuffle
dealing ivory clatter
Here,
the slights in sound
Glances and posture
are not to be ignored or
taken lightly.
The old boys on the end
playing beer bottle polka
can be trusted
~ignore them
It's her at the jukebox
after his whisper,
the too chummy guy
three gins down,
and the nefarious nuance
of how that one crosses
her legs and drags
her cigarette.
Watch them
Watch your drink
Study the board
and the pawn
in slick whistle slide.
You might get out with
your wallet and life
You might get fucked
in the back of a Ford
But feel the air, sense
the electric tension
through the sleepy smoke
and know
this is no game for children
and the stakes run high
at the Broken Spoke Tavern.
 
Another Night

I really think there is no point
to blow me upstanding,
let me lie,
then you can blow me all you want
or even blow your own whistle,
I will be sleeping.
Don’t hesitate to forget me,
I wouldn't notice,
don’t hesitate to caress me,
I can't feel,
Come, come, come,
but come another night.
 
here it is what it seems
this place dances danger in anger beats
glared glances where glasses are gripped low
for high impact torque

arms crossed I watch
the tension build, wound top tight
like a trash compacters crush
the flighty dance from foot to foot
jerky movements
stark stares with wide eyed nostril flares

a radio click to alert the guys this could be just another
night of tavvy life,
muscles tighten, forearm, tricep, deltoids,
lats and traps flare tense and un tense, a brief
warm up before it all explodes shrapnel bursts of fists
and teeth, hackles raise like a sixth sense
start mapping entry points, exit points,
pick the targets the possible obstacles
who is with who
the adrenaline stream tap opens
fingers fiddle, head nods to the beat

feeling it,
digging it

oi Todski what's up, from my left
my anticipation railroads
a straight track, a finger directs
the staged scene as it unfolds its mellow drama

and like all fucking drama it ends in tears as beer
is spat and the slow motion swing is the cue I use
to release the lock on the inner beast
I float in adrenal fuel
no idea who is screaming until the silence
of the crowd
bears down
and the scream is mine, blood tickles
as it dribbles down to drip from my chin
bottle to eyebrow, spilt and swollen
still fucking standing
and you have to wonder
what it's all for
and ask simply
why
 
The Drake Hotel

I was drunk on sloe gin and metaphor
you were fueled by red bull and testosterone
I was warned that it would end in tears
and they were kinda on the mark
but you taught me
chivalry rarely stays up very late
and flesh and blood is real
 
I was drunk on sloe gin and metaphor
you were fueled by red bull and testosterone
I was warned that it would end in tears
and they were kinda on the mark
but you taught me
chivalry rarely stays up very late
and flesh and blood is real

You made me google "Drake Hotel" to make sure i'd never been there.
Whew!
 
Symbolic Cliche

dirt encrusted boots clump
weary feet to the bar
order a round of forget me
as the days labour attacks

fingers gnarl around frosted glass
two gulps and pint down
there's not enough beer in here
to slake the thirst of sun hammered skin

living on the land is dying in a slow pot roast
of tanned hide non dyed wool
shearing sheep till day break
then the ancient creak that
hobbles you bent and that hand so strong
clutches at the very thing carrying the weight of it all

another round till I can stand upright proud and tall
knowing that when the numbness dies
pain consumes
and work continues
 
Morosity

I been sittin' in a corner
watchin' mean drunks all night
and wonderin' why they're like that
'cause baby that can't be right

You know tomorrow morning
come early
and t'night grows long of tooth
I can't stay here forever
searchin' out the truth

Oh yeah the melancholy's got me
and my booze is a dangerous sin
it's sat me in this corner
and look at the mess I'm in

You don't love me baby
you don't need me anymore
if I don't get home by mornin'
you be walking out the door

The melancholy's got me
I can't go home to you like this
cryin' for my tomorrow
and all the love I'll miss

Oh yeah it's really got me
I'm really feelin' low
this gin be runnin' dry
I'll take my heart and go
I got the melancholy blues.
 
Savage love burns in idolatry
as I worship the voice
she uses to whisper and croon
the blues
her song cuts me

real and familiar
it rattles off the hollow-empty
holes in me
echoes sad rhythms
my head sways
as I sip the glass of liquid
warmth to cradle me in its
caress

I always wondered if things had been
different
would I still want to run into the flames
feel the bitter sting turn my tears
to ash

pour me one more
I ask
slurring the sounds that
slip from my poor mouth

the dark enshrouds
penetrating deep
as 10am chimes
 
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That is really good Tods--like a melancholic bluesy fugue and I love that last line, which throws the whole poem into perspective.

And thanks for helping to keep this thread alive. :heart:
 
That is really good Tods--like a melancholic bluesy fugue and I love that last line, which throws the whole poem into perspective.

And thanks for helping to keep this thread alive. :heart:

Thanks angie. It is a brilliant thread, and I know its value to you :hugs:
 
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