Sunday, August 13, 2023

August El Bar Poems

 There was a place called El Bar

Where PBR was the star

I fucked up this poem

Put a slug in my dome

I could have ended with PBR


Blustery Bullshit

and fabricated facts

each truth welcomed

with a flurry of smacks

There's no profit in honesty

Money flies toward lies

If we end up surviving

It'll be a surprise


Sam tending 

Sam slinging

Sam pouring

What we're drinking

Sam slamming

Sam in sable

Sam unjamming

That damn pool table


Amy coming in clutch

A black pen in hand

Jamming & drawing

to her favorite bands.

I needed some color

outside of my blue

A simple black pen

my creativity renewed.


Spider eggs

amongst the kegs

hunters hunting

with all eight legs.

Stealth and steal

to find a meal

hunters hunting

with arachnid zeal.


Buy'em & drain'em

Each drink a deferral

of responsibility

and the real world.

I should go home

clean and cook and improve

but that takes effort

I don't want to move.

So one more, bartender!

Then one after that.

Don't judge me too harshly

as I grow old and fat.

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