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by Yabyum

Posted to Poetry on 2004-01-13 20:10:00

what is displayed through the smoke haze of bar room ciggerettes
is humanity in its rawest beatest form
the same souls are always inside
round the wood grain (initial stained)
counter top for ashtrays and pitchers and mugs
ciggerette packs and lighters and elbows
there they are talking silly poetics, politics, religion
past lives and past experiences
the hustler, the old wise man, the slut,
the devious bastard, the pimp, the child,
the husband, the wife, the dreamer
all ecompassing this great whirlwind of schemes
pool tables, personal musical preference
and going shot for shot
great holy sober bartender never without a smile commands respect
with every tip back
and pull from the tap
THESE are the real humanity
the ones you’ll never see on teevee
the ones who silently go their own way
through this labrinyth of lies and truth called life with a aching back, calloused hands and empty pockets
secretly making the world go round
these are the real humanity
the ones who worry bout taxes, child support,
alimony and whats to eat for dinner
the ones who wanted to be more
and the ones who’r happy sitting right there
where they are
tipping back the frothy ale of repression
inspiration
or boredom
the bar room is a congregation
for the groups of people who nurse the world along night by night
laugh by laugh
sip by sip
song by song