Best In The Club Poems
Do people think you are sleazy and bad,
since the day you replied to that want ad?
The words were in black and white, and plain.
“No Experience Necessary, We Train”.
This job is not what most women would like to get,
However, it pays the bills and keeps you out of debt.
You live in a nice house, and drive a Corvette.
Of all the occupations anyone can seek,
there are not too many paying two grand a week.
They hired you for what came naturally.
Men easily discover your great beauty.
You have the looks of a centerfold in a magazine.
Your dancing in the club makes quite a scene.
A fight with your old man made him pack and go away.
He left you and your child unexpectedly one day.
You were desperate and needed a job right away.
It seems nobody was impressed with your resume.
Other employers apparently could not be convinced.
So many places only wanted experienced.
When you are dancing in the club each night,
men from all over think you are a delight.
Scantily clad, you erotically tease.
This is how you gather your gratuities.
Some men get obnoxious, and a bit out of hand.
Enforcers appear to take a stand.
A small team of bouncers comes out to greet.
The mashers land in the middle of the street.
Never mind what people think is wrong or right.
Many men like me will be seeing you tonight.
She slipped into the single’s club,
where an assortment
of horny guys and lonely hearts had assembled.
Some were there hoping to find that "special" someone
and some had come to chase away the blues,
tinkling ice in cocktail glasses soon to be refilled.
Others, who might be labeled commitment phobic,
had simply come to case the place for an easy lay.
Swinging svelte, mini-skirted hips lasciviously,
she strutted over to the counter
on legs that looked their longest and most shapely
from being hoisted on high red heels.
Every pair of eyes was trained on her.
Some in the club gawked
with eyes that hid beneath mascara-painted lashes, flitting envy.
Others leered with pupils dilating lust
from ogling the two soft protrusions in her tight white turtleneck.
Then with pink champagne in hand,
the goddess turned and surveyed her audience,
most of whom by now had looked away.
One remained, mesmerized, with eyes riveted on her.
He quivered when she caught his gaze
and strolled over to where he sat.
As she approached, he marveled at her face -
the chiseled cheekbones strong and high,
the dark eyes, luminescent and immense,
and curiously, an upturned nose so delicate
it seemed almost too perfect,
like one acquired from a sculptor’s hands.
He gulped when she asked him for a dance,
and as he asked this intriguing lady’s name,
he wondered at the timbre of her voice,
so provocative and low as she tossed dark brown locks
and said seductively,
“My name is Lola. L-O-L-A , Lola.”
Inspired by an old song from the 70's and
used now for Skat's the Premiere Contest number 10 Poetry Contest
He was small and portly but their leader
didn't want anyone in the club being a cheater
with everyones full attention while seated
he reiterated his drastic thoughts and feelings,
Explaining to his buddies to steer clear
of the feminine gender some held dear
saying they were just a pain in the neck
so just to ignore them he told them was best,
The meeting was adjourned and Spanky closed the door
straightening his "Women Haters Club" sign once more
with Alfalfa feeling confident he wouldn't cave in
till Darla started flirting with him once again….
5-16-17
I started to miss you as soon as I played his music
Marvin's room came on
It reminded me, our relationship is similar to the lyrics in that song
I didn't want to message you, But Drake made me do it
You don't need to reply, just hear me out
Thought I'd cried enough, but once again the tears are out
I don't even know your whereabouts
have you found happiness? What are you scared about?
Do you think about me?, do you miss us?
If I call you, will you pick up?
Do you have a new man? Does he kiss enough?
Damn, this is my fault, I never did enough
Are you in a committed relationship with life plans?
Are you in the club weekly, having one night stands?
I hope you know that you deserve better
We met at the wrong time, but right now we could work together
I've grown a lot, even got help for my depression
I know it's too late, but losing you was the lesson
I had to lose you, in order to find myself
If you ever need me, you know you can find my help
I started to miss you as soon as I played his music
You're probably happy with another guy, by now
I'm sorry but this was something I had to write down
I didn't want to start missing you, but Drake made me do it
I couldn't suppress
How music makes me feel if I tried
It comforts me
It spirits me away
From stressors of the day
It's almost like magic
How it buoys my spirit
From song to song on my playlist
Bobbing my head front and back
Grooving side-to-side
It gets my fingers snappin'
And my hands clappin'
And my feet tappin'
It makes me dance
Like nobody's watchin'
A good beat keeps my body movin'
When I'm in the club, whooping it up
When I'm at the gym, sweating it out
When I'm at home, relaxin'. I love music...
It doesn't matter the genre or language
Submitted for...
Strand Select Y,Any Form,Any Theme Poetry Contest (Winner: 1st Place)
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
Date: 02/22/2020
Date written and posted: 05/26/2019
As he stood paper cup in hand by the drinking fountain on a train
somewhere south of Kankakee, miles from Chicago,
a quiet, pensive, older man was getting harangued by a loudmouthed,
blowsy, beer drinking, inconsiderate, disheveled and overweight woman.
Aka, his wife.
She finally shut her mouth after he exploded with,
“get your face out of mine, yo breath smells like
you been eatin camel dookey for a week!”
The laughter from the old men in the club car was deafening,
so she just sat down and cried all the way to New Orleans.
This narrative for the comma contest is a childhood memory I observed riding the Illinois Central’s “City of New Orleans.” Circa 1955.
This is just something short and sweet
So lets share this moment, and synchronize our bodies to our soul's melodic beat
Holding your hips, anticipating your movement...
doing my duty far as taking control
Deep down you feel comfort from my body,
creating a feeling that
you never want to be let go
The words catering to our moment is perfect,
don't you agree
And though we are two strangers caught within the same situation,
In this moment!! I forever want you to be apart of me
As the time ticks, and i loosen my grip on your hips
I whisper those sweet nothing in your ears just to make my way closer to your lips
The moment falls into slow-motion
and everyone's presence in the club becomes obsolete....
and now I'm caught into the anticipating the moments of when our fruitful lips meet
but instead of letting my emotions out on this dance floor...
take my hand and come with me
and turn this short moment of forever
into something more delightful than bitter sweet
©Brandon Neal?
Was lonely like a man who sits on a throne,
Who has never felt a kiss on a collar bone.
Feeling departed I found myself at a party
Exploring a girl like she was an African Safari.
She got me writing novels
With a lustful theme,
And taking entire naps without a single dream.
Now when I write poems
I don’t have to steal,
Because the words I can feel
And what I say is real.
She even has me talking to myself
On public transportation.
Driver thinks I’m crazy,
He asks me for registration.
We go through the peaches and cream
As though it was rehearsed.
In the past it fell apart
As though the peaches were cursed.
After a couple years
The peaches became sour;
Tried to spend time together,
But we counted the hours.
My success came from a fear
Of being nobody,
Coupled with a fear
Of seeing her with somebody.
Now I write against time
And to the tune of two clocks.
The words are so important
That I need a soap box.
You light up the darkness
That I could not handle.
In my depression
you were my candle.
I want to end this poem,
But I know your friend is not your friend.
I still struggle with a hope
That you and I will make amends.
Now in a state of mind
Where I’m doing things
On the edge of scary.
The pain you put me through
Inspired me to be revolutionary.
Pain made my words flow smooth,
They seem more Veteran.
It makes me smoke so much weed,
My diet seems more vegetarian.
Must forget about you,
And all the pain you put me through.
I want to revolutionize peace,
So people have to hear me speak;
Ideas permeating slow
Like the broken window theory.
Still thoughts of you make me speculate
On where my mind was at
When your words carried so much weight.
My life is at the age
Where I can truly understand
That love is women’s revenge on man.
Love became a game so cut throat,
It often had me sweating
In a desert with a coat.
It had me in the club,
With a soar throat and singing the blues.
I sung about how reality
Is often the bearer of bad news.
Like a chore
I would often schedule time to ignore you.
Like a child I had to grow up
To realize how much I adored you.
Death wore a glamorous mask,
death wore a beautiful dress
Death gave him one night of pleasure,
death gave him an empty sex life full of regret
When he met her, she was the life of the party
Promiscuous and bewitchingly fly
Had men and women flocking all around her,
but those pretty birds weren't on the menu that night
She was a tigress in the club jungle,
feline with one painted striped eye
He didn't know he was her prey,
that death on high heels had chosen him to die
She stalked him, then caught him on the dance floor
Whispered seductive things in his ear
She said her name was Chimera,
and she offered carnal desires most men couldn't ignore
He got swept up in the heat of passion,
then led away to her private hotel lair
She urged him to come inside her,
and coaxed him to scream her name
She said she wanted him to remember that night,
because he would never see her again
Death wore a deadly disguise that night,
death came in the form of a femme fatale
Death brought him a lifetime of pain,
once he laid down on that bed straight from hell
Are we people seeking answers to our lives, hopes and dreams?
From beginnings of our youth, we're taught to plot and scheme
In life we learn to make our place and to maximize our dreams
We work to pay our way, or are we paying for others schemes?
To respect all of the people, who seek prominence and wealth
Learn from leaders of this world, and stack the hand you're dealt
Your worth and happiness are found by seeking wealth in coin
only a few can take but, all must pay, it's all in the club you join
You sell your smile's for a dollar, and your freedom for your joy
Fact is your still building monuments for coin collectors to enjoy
Leaders use people in this world, for labor as a remote control toy
push a button, pull the stick, to control each women, man and boy
Is their similarity, of life and history we've learned from all our books?
This life you've led, was it the plan to leave our children on the hook?
It's said we can learn from our past, to avoid making the same mistake
less intelligence then the ape man, as we teach mistakes not to make
Having the same ideas, of our worth, as when Jesus walked this earth
Do you think the value of our life, is the number of coins we are worth?
Think you've missed the meaning of this journey, ever since your birth?
Our journey is to learn and teach, all the children, not to take the mirth.
In his words, the circle of life is to be followed by heaven, as we all know
with an eternal peace, happiness and joy, without pain, suffering or woe
Instead of chasing coin and following false leaders like herds of sheep
spread destruction and defile the air, sea and land for more coins to heap
Shouldn't we prepare to enter Heavens gate, if this is what we seek?
Her Cheekbones, smooth as pebbles
Grasped tightly in his sexed up hand, sweating indelicately
Resembling that night the thoughts between the sheets were conceived
Weighing like soaked white carpets
Beneath flea market stands
She Is Beautiful, she is beautiful
Belladonna, noxious
Dusty eyes and wavy hair
Neruda book shoveled away somewhere deep
Inside her closet full of chewed up bones
Illumination, dying in Latin never seemed like
A juxtaposition before the closing of the soul
At least his eyes are a Cambridge blue
Jazz muted in Mortality sings on dangling participles leaking out
From the saxophone
What is that worth?
Thick waist, hourglass coke-a-cola
Mama-sita, mira mira
Lolita-like N.Y.M.P.H.O.ed up eyelashes
Coating tears with manufactured glob
Somebody put in a bottle
The higher your skirt the more your face value
Goes up, up, up pass the mystery between monogyny and the thighs
Right between the slit ice
Like Mmmm, and he slides past the first three bases
Oooh Girl you look so good in those Six Inch Heels
What is it worth,
to throw away your
Worth
For a toaster oven and a washed up guy sitting on your back porch
Scratching his head waiting to be given a pardon for his misdeeds
While American Media stole him away
And blamed it on the graffiti on the Church Walls when it was really
Hipshot for the Hip-Hop , This shameless act of cytotoxicity
when it was really
The Devil trying to slow dance with the pretty girl behind the stage
Eyes that lie time after time and are almond shaped but see no further
Then 6 feet deep and a saxe blue sky
Baby girl, on auction in the club
(Going once, going twice, it’s okay we’ll sell her half price!)
Like a slave, a sycophant child to some sick twisted game
Dancing in the Matrix style of killing the clock
Biting off the hands, to chew them up, spit them out
To pretend like the world isn’t ending over our heads
Seven kids, bloated waist, waitress fingers and lips
Smile, Misfortune dotes on you, Lucky One
What are you going to do when your looks run out?
Heyyy girl, what’s your face value?
There was an old man named Andy Cap
who was a golf loving kind of chap
forgot to tee off
his partner did scoff
when the bar maid remained on his lap.
© Harry J Horsman 2013
I was not a drinker, I must confess.
Well, once in a while I would transgress.
A studying student perched on the stool
Avoided eye contact and men's lusty drool.
One quiet afternoon visiting the barmaid,
No one was in the club to cause a tirade.
Three drunks came in for a mid-day drink.
They put up cash; their coins made a clink.
I started to leave, but she asked me to stay.
New comers to the bar, first time, that day.
Partially smashed, they started to glare.
I could hardly bear their shameless stare.
I sat at the counter drinking my water.
Before too long, those three became brasher.
Buy her a drink; No, thank you, I said.
If eyes could kill, I would have been dead.
A bit unruly, they became quite insistent.
I ordered my usual; they happily gave payment.
Three glasses of water I drank that day.
We played pool when they went on their way.
© October 30, 2011
Written for Poetry Soup Member Contest: Confessions to a Bartender
Sponsored by: Natalie :) The Rogue Rhymer
To the gallant ‘remain’ I direct this refrain; to the hearts and great souls I see there; and maintain.
That we are not so much different that not all is estranged;
We both yearn betterment in so much we are same!
I hate not my neighbour; I hate neither you
In my heart I am sure it is good you would do!
Our wants are quite similar throughout this Brit-ian.
To your hearts and great souls, I direct this refrain.
To the gallant; to the worthy; resolute, brave, ‘remain’ do we not both;
Want better? Do we both not contain respect; and value this country the same?
This land welcomed many; Huguenot through to Jew,
It stood out for freedom under wings of the few.
This all before the time of the present E. U.
Look out on your land, on the homeless that call, for better; for direction,
Do we not have compassion? I say yes one and all!
To the gallant ‘remain’ do we want the same? better for children; for our daughters And sons? Can we do, think and plan?
How to be at our best? For I believe that we can.
We have seen three depressions whilst still in the ‘club’
Seem lost in a virtual reality; that to many is the rub,
When we left the E.R.M. this country did well, it’s all part of your history,
That some never tell. Have we not been subject to rumour and spin?
Yet it's well known by science in debate; majority knowledge does win.
To the gallant to the worthy, resolute, brave ‘remain’. I don't think
You unworthy I just put it plain. I don't think that you caved in to fear,
Rather that the politics; was rather not clear.
You love your own country that’s what I see.
I share much of your values, maybe more than you believe
So then to you, I state; that for me, it’s so plain
Let the UK ‘remain’ undivided by rumour, anger, lies and pain.
© Joe Maverick 2-2-2019
I met a man with scars in New Orleans
He worked a hustler bar in New Orleans
He went to The Double Play bar by bus
He did not own a car in New Orleans
He offered his body to hungry men
In sex, he would go far in New Orleans
He protected me from men on the street
Yet he had battle scars in New Orleans
War had taken a toll on his psyche
His actions were bizarre in New Orleans
I controlled his behavior but sometimes
I loved him from afar in New Orleans
If someone insulted me in the club
With that man he would spar in New Orleans
He watched over me and looked after me
My heart was left ajar in New Orleans
I grew to care for his six foot four frame
Hard to say au revoir in New Orleans
He always called me Mr. Ethington
Caring far above par in New Orleans.