Posts tagged ‘beer’

July 21, 2014

Monday Morning

alerted bolt upright by a sticky sheet situation,
first hours of the day
eggs toast and hot sauce
back pains and skin stuck to the bed.

radio conveying news, noise, whatever…
life has been brought to my attention -social media-
ladies promoting sexism; life venting on things, ironically, whatever…

moving stirring sitting standing
applying lotion,
fresh tattoos peel and feel like sunburns,
still drying to some extent.

packing bags, fingering keys, opening doors,
one way to the bathroom for relief
fake leather gloss on my bike seat
read something, anything—Nietzsche.

shower, shit, don’t shave
set- stare in the mirror,
look down to feet
making way, avoiding the cat and debris,
dust filled rooms, draw shades no heat relief.

silverware drawers,
sink filled with grease,
pressures such as time, hypocrites, saboteurs, hunger, cleanliness–…  oh, and NEEDS.

hang about dizzy-clogged head
one thinks
one forgets
one waits
one bends
I should have stayed in bed
I should have stayed in bed.

July 8, 2014

Triple Double

we used to go to The Triple Rock on Tuesdays- every Tuesday;

they had 2-4-1’s:
two drinks for the price of one- natürlich,

we would stay late, dancing and sweating, and trying to get laid…

it was a spectacular spectacle, an idea with appeal; drink one-self half-silly,
amongst those of a similar age demographic,
-get lucky,
then attempt to maneuver treacherous city streets
on bike, in cars or cabs,
home.

the whole thing ended rather abruptly when a few kids couldn’t handle their liquor, words, and fists.

a fight broke out into the street,
under cigarette smoke, dim streetlamps, smell of stale beer in the air,
and the big kibosh was put on the entire coveted evening, the whole event was OVER.

the deal had turned into somewhat of a deal-breaker, and this was way before the wounds of those street-fighting kids  had healed;

egos and all.

so, what two things did we learn here?
if it sounds too good to be true, it probably is, and nothing lasts forever.

June 17, 2014

Lock and Dam No. 7

On a boat close an expansive dam
A boy accompanied an Old Man
Fishing for hours cold hands
Only to have come up few clams

The river remained rough
Water spray wet brown splash
Bubbles in the water swirling
Bottom of boat held beer cans

Farther up the boy could see birds
Up close to the tumblers brightly red
Over white-caps exchanged few words
The Old Man palmed his rod in hand

Lock and Dam 7 lent no pension
Yet many prospered in its wake
The Old Man and the boy lay patient
They trolled up and down, but had to wait

Ice coated concrete walls
With rope or hook they fastened tight
Daylight lasted only so long in afternoons
The highway lights suggested night

Untying they came undone
River smell and worms in hand
The fish on the stringer were meager
Pushing off they went towards land

They passed others by and by
Anglers that were mastered
Coming closer to the landing point
Lights on avoiding disaster

Trailing wake in full gait
An out-board went ‘bout 20 knots
Blackness and bugs flew by about them
As they came closer to the docks

Lamplight held empty parking lot
Shown just below the river’s edge
The flat-bottom came parallel the wooden structure
The boy managed at his sea legs

With a hard bump from running in fast
A rope was fastened—quick, and down
The boat made way with the water
The boy made feet with wooden ground

Cold rushed from the river valley out
Nothing held the boy more in life
Than to be out near the Mighty Mississippi
In the dwindling hours of night

As children we are exposed to habits which prove a tradition
As adults we revisit those events to see what lessons were given.

April 28, 2014

Hipster Trivia at the 331 Club

Traffic lights outside
Squared off streets we ride
Orange glow comes to eyes
Promoting fun inside

Progression riding electric tracks
Now new Prius mounted bike racks
To tires, to gas; of metal and glass
Varying vehicles pass; blurred mass

Two Towns as one; this Twin Cities
Biked them apart in nights- winds against me

Horseshoes hit pavement in the mist of flown pigeons
Spanned bricks and mortar, riverfronts lain nigh bridges

Talking loudly with crass; assumed trite little facts
Old times we tell ourselves not to look back

At great heights we don’t look for cracks
At the bottom we look up and react

A smile;
Could be the start
Of a beautiful frown,
Or vise versa.
….  Or really dumb words…

To the street to the beach
To the liquor store first
On two feet in the sleet
Bright-sunned winters; make hurt

Not like sun burn
Pinked enough to learn
Thrown thoughts of concern to the birds
Know the fish by the worms, in other words

On the bar with “local celebrities”
I have to ask, “Where are they at?”
So many people who are dead to me
The meaningful discussions they attract

Flash those few a fat front row
Wait for a single beer, find seats for the show
She said she writes for Revolver, things like that
She said just put “hipster” in the title for hits, fact.

You learn something new every day.

March 20, 2014

Sunday Sales MN.

Sunday Sales Minn.

 

Money for laws

Committed to economic treason

Artisans are hurt

While they are in full season

 

For Sunday Sales

Legislators and Mark Dayton

Minnesota Municipal Beverage Association

Citizens lacking choice; frustration

 

Remove hired heads

That won’t change the situation

Hands tied fruitless lines

Paid off by Corporations

 

Now I ask you one thing

In this democratic nation

Who makes calls on freedoms

The aristocratic alliances or the faithful patron?

 

Prove me wrong

Make this right.

March 14, 2014

On the Balcony with Love (at the Kitty Cat Club)

On the Balcony with Love

By Terry Scott Niebeling

 

Outside of the house

Watching droplets all

They bounce up in the sun

Lit sparkling they fall

 

Sunlight how nice

Made an ass of self

For getting after my girl

On account of my fault

 

Amber transparency

Whiskey glass fixed

In a cold dark corner

Full beer can of tricks

 

Bikers sit in the light

Talking weather and trash

They deliver their product

They careen as they pass

 

Balcony noise raindrops loud

Cars go by, and up, and around

Melt snow liquid moves splashing through

University sign scrawled illuminated blue

 

Machine gun fire streams

They fall from above

Perspiring from the heavens

Yellow orb showing love

 

Sit sip this splendid thought

Read and ponder this springtime hot.

March 10, 2014

(Now) The Land of 10,000,000 Lakes/ Relatively Obscure

(Now) The Land of 10,000,000 Lakes

By Terry Scott Niebeling

 

Relatively Obscure;

But Only Now,

This year

 

(Must’ve been the Weather)

 

Thoughts at present

Winter resentment

 

(Had to’ve been a Tasteless Pleasure)

 

Summertime

And

Rhymed lines

 

Blank verse

And

Mini-skirts

 

Beer on a deck

And

Sunburns that hurt

 

Been stuck-inside-life

And

There’s nothing worse

 

Darkest before the light

And

Patience makes all the worth

 

(Blinded by the light-eyesight)

 

Times in the Midwest

With the new season we’ll wear less for dress:

 

Abandon bundles…

Step through Puddles…

 

Avoid Potholes and Passive Aggressive Mumbles.

 

We still (always) look forward to the warm days ahead,

Sunlight makes it easier to leave the bed.  

February 26, 2014

Falling Through Ice (Estes Park, CO)

“Stupidity is a comical art.”

-Anonymous 

 

There was a mountain high,

Of which I climbed the side,

 

There was a lake deep below,

Of which I fell inside,

 

There was a parking lot where I stood, naked for all eyes,

Of which travelers laughed as they drove by- what a sight.

 

February 24, 2014

Just One Person

Front and Center,

Grotesque Smile walking out and towards me, those thoughts in my head.  Nearing Walter, thinking of Lind, walking to Magrath, the evening begins.  I saw and registered just this one person

I was:

Front of the class with Scott Stapp.  The lead singer of Creed, and I, and we stand.  AKA a TA.  This is life at the bus stop waiting in the cold, thinking of thoughts old.  Bold people wearing exposed flesh standing apart.  Ice crusted sidewalk, I look across the street to see a mirror; people just like me.  The worst song on my iPod, shuffles in my ears-God.

I come to.

Probing my audience:  making an obvious point (to some).  Those who aren’t dumb, at least, some.  Thumbs down, this is me, this is how I believe.  Aught’ to be, Show you how I see.  A “U” and “X”- unstressed and stressed-not a stretch.  Not far off, lines and rhymes aloft.  FACT.

We make a somewhat apprehensive white board dance in tight pants.  Look at the sad crowd, relax.

Scansion of poetry: iambic, prosody, diction, expansion; an explanation of situations, objective subjection, an aggressive reaction, which could lay wastage.  Justified.  I fold at the masses, scoff at this interaction.  I feel defeated, but undamaged.  I feel this comedy is tragic.

That’s just Shakespeare talking though.  He might have been one person.

Someone yells from the back of the class, “You are just one person!”  I am apparently one person… Can you believe that?  I can’t.

Then I thought about it-

Other examples of “just one person”:

The President

God

You

Me

Everyone-

You see?

 

Get it?  Said just one person.

February 3, 2014

At the Rail

At the Rail,

 

At the best spot in the bar

Everyone crowds ‘round me

 

I’ve come so far

Can’t they just let me be?

 

Much work all week

Fleeting warmth with the breeze

 

Free will amidst free drinks

Many fucks not given

Then

We begin

To think…

 

Like-

Fuck me

Fuck you

Another drink

Or new shoes

 

We must make choices too

For the future tried and true

 

I’ve got loans bemoaned only später

Thoughts crowd um der Platz im meine Haar.

 

I don’t know

I’m right there

I ask though

But I don’t care

 

This is life at the rail

 

Happy-got drinks, no fail

More next week, in attempt to prevail.

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