Posts tagged ‘dive bar’

September 20, 2014

Situation ( how I talk ): drinks after class

Situations ( how I talk ): drinks after class

So,
I’m at a convenient store on West Bank
Dust blowing in the wind
on a partially torn up sidewalk,
At a convenient store on West Bank

Right?
That’s where-
Okay,

So,
I’m in line to get cigarettes,
With a friend,
And my contact falls to the floor
Blurry and shit,

-This pain.

I can’t see…
It’s on the ground,
Patting my shirt, do you see?

I gleam the phosphorescence of it in the dim florescent light,
On the dirty floor,
What those had tracked in,
Just before.

You know,
I pick it up.

Ali’s behind the counter selling cigarettes
Big bright smile
Looks at me

Hey, do you have any…

He doesn’t have solution;
But he can help,
Standing there, palming the lens

I tell him to give me some Visine

I unbox it
Reluctantly-
I pop the top
With the ease of expertise

Sit at a table
Some people are eating,
Watching,
They get up and leave

I’m putting my eyeballs in.

Wetted the crumby table,
then I could see.

I wiped up what I had spilt.
And put the bottle in my bag to leave.

Thank you sir rang aloud as bells on the door-

Happily no longer in discomfort,
Then I walked across the street to Palmer’s.

Advertisements
August 12, 2014

Man Man at Triple Rock

Observant trend scene,
Heavy tattoo engrained,
Faux-tough and minor mean,
Façade, true, is claimed.

Street: Riverside, easy ride:
Perspective existing local,
Patched bags for small fries;
Real hipsters for yokels.

Through Cultures and Vultures,
Much Music and Trash-
Relative status shown vouchers,
Can’t see; bright lights we lack.

Stand in short lines outside.
Killing self with thin cigarettes;
Realize these lies through eyes,
One puff at a time, we forget-

Dive into undulating pool of people
Scuffed tennis shoes tied loose,
Sweat smell we breathe through-
Sip expensive cheap rail booze.

Catch the Route 2 Bus to be,
This night-life part of the city.
***
Motto: seen you there before, but never met, as in meet.
Standing dirty wet floor below feet until it’s time to leave.

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.

May 14, 2014

Fear Faith

Levity of ponderance
Crushed sand in place
Calculated words of elegance
Make hay or make haste—

She said she was afraid
Though there is nay to fear
She said this in so many ways
Speech fell upon delicate ears

Now,
I am afraid
That people are afraid
That they have something to be afraid of,
But why worry?

February 9, 2013

It Ain’t The Prettiest (Midwest In General)

A bunch of much of the same; Midwest-mold ubiquitous like the plague.

Break the routine like sinking into a grave.

 

I hear it on the radio, I see it in print.

 

Seen it, done it, heard it before.

I wonder, how long of a stint?

 

How much more, how much more?

 

Shit-sound galore.

Shit-material, what’s the score?

 

As if underground hip-hop is Amateur Hour Club at the dive, or just horribly inarticulate karaoke.

Something to be, don’t be.

Are you doing this jokingly?

 

Coffee from place to place.

The good stuff.

State your case, case your state.

 

Jumping on trend like an almost missed bus.

Jumping on love like lust.

Then bust.

 

As if Portland is Minneapolis.

Getting coal in exchange for your Christmas Wish List.

 

As if vise versa, or versa vice.

Who gives a shit, right?

 

As if La Crosse is cultured.

All progress has been haltered.

 

I’ll drink a beer on it.

 

The holidays are over, winter should be gone.

The year 2012 is over, you should be gone.

Why not go to the nearest local Coffee Shop and write an inspiring song?

 

Too much on my plate to save space, save time, save face.

 

Back to earth without a trace.

Cool beans, I love you too.

 

I am all right.

 

Passive aggressive, throwing it up like it’s the flu.

Done with the mundane typical spew.

 

Amy Winehouse is dead.

The Current is begging for money.

The government is still funny.

 

I’d rather talk same sex marriage and control of guns.

I’d rather talk homeless people on the streets and my lack of funds.

 

How about you?

 

Bowie came out and did it again.

Came out and did something boring, my friend.

 

Prince is talking about sex, breakfast, and an orange juice and vodka drink, and what do people think?

Such a genius, he is on the brink.

 

We came for the Atmosphere and left when we heard of The Chalice.

Breaking through the sacred palace of this fruitful scene, thinking:  I will literally burn this motherfucker down, I promise you, I mean this.  P.O.S. can throw as many

Molotov cocktails as possible, Tyler Durden is on my side.

 

Freddie Mercury called, he wants all of his ideas, sounds, moves, and lyrics back.

 

I have something to be excited about:  Something different, something advanced, something true.

 

You just got Ninja Mind Fucked.