Long Liquor store Poems
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That goofball husband of hers brought her to this joint to see her get drunk for the very first time. She actually plugged her nose trying to sip her first glass of beer. Good grief. 20 minutes and she barely finished it. She walked to the restroom and I felt her teetering just a little bit. She likes the feeling though, I can tell! I sure liked it when she started boogying to the beat of the band on her way back to the table. Too bad Mr. dingbat won’t ever dance with her. She keeps tapping her hands on the table to the rhythm of the music. That’s why I have to write so slow. . . .
Now she’s tryin ta drink another beer but she can hardly stand it an her husband sez come on don’t ya wanna know how it fills ta be drunk? She says well at list I fill buzzd now. . .
The nice buzz wore off. It’s at least an hour later. She and hubbie got this idea to go to the liquor store. First time she ever went to one. She thought maybe brandy would taste better so then she could drink something stronger and know how it felt to be drunk. Brandy sounded sweet and fruity to her. Boy was she wrong. She took a little taste and it burned going down. That stuff sucks just like the beer. . . .
Wow she jus finisht tha hole boddle rily fast lik mebbie ten minuts ago so she kud fil drunk an she put me down ta finnish tha boddle in one shot now she kant evin kip her eyez opun UH ohhhhhhh
Epilogue: The preceding narration was based on actual fact. Upon consuming an entire bottle of brandy in less than ten minutes, "she" immediately passed out, and I recall she awoke in the morning having forgotten everything that transpired once she fell asleep. Furthermore, when she went into the bathroom the next morning and saw some flecks of vomit on the walls, she was quite amazed. Why? Because she had no recollection of throwing up, and she realized her goofball husband had actually attempted to clean up a mess in their house for the first time in their young married life!!!
By the way, Jenny, if you happen to be reading this, Shhhh. Please do not tell her other sisters. It would surely get back to you guys’ mother, and your poor upstanding church-loving mom might have a heart attack to hear of her daughter’s one transgression with the devil’s brew! Sincerely, Her Sober (albeit sometimes fanciful) Pen
T'was the night before Christmas and through the beer store
folks were procuring Christmas cheer by the score.
They came from near and far to get bottles of rum
to make yummy eggnog and to its pleasures succumb.
Our Ukrainian friends, Vlodymir and Prianka,
decided to load up with bottles of vodka,
and together with their generous friend Ebenezer
celebrated the season by consuming Bloody Caesars.
My Newfoundland friends made it abundantly clear that they planned to consume mass quantities of beer. These would include several stouts, ales and lagers all from local breweries – not exactly a shocker!
Some friends braved the weather that was wet, cold and brisky, in order to purchase forty-ouncers of whiskey; and they all thought it was very good and responsible to consider drinking and driving completely unacceptable.
When the liquor store closed at a quarter to nine, the latecomers decided to purchase moonshine; and, admittedly, they all got a vicarious pleasure from surreptitiously buying from a local bootlegger.
On that Christmas Eve, several ladies did dine to a holiday feast that included bottles of wine. They sipped several glasses of sparkling, red and white toasting Happy Holidays to all and to all a good night!
“Thank God the Weekend’s Over”
©2021 Jerry Brotherton
It’s time to get up and go to work, that old alarm clock said.
It’s Monday and I still have her, rolling around in my head.
It’s six o’clock in the morning, and I’m feeling half past dead.
Thank God the weekend’s over, if I can just get out of bed.
Chorus:
There’s something about the weekend,
that can make me lose my mind.
Only when I drink tequila,
chased with a salted lime.
Sometimes it’s hard to remember,
the good times they say I had.
But if I wake up on Monday,
it couldn’t have been that bad.
Friday at the watering hole, I was drinking Bud and gin.
When the door swung open, and a golden light cascaded in.
If she was not heaven’s angel, she sure as hell should have been.
Just watching her assets swaying gave me goosebumps on my skin.
She strolled over to my table, said, “I hate to drink alone.”
“Have a seat”, I tried to say, but all that came out was a moan.
Electricity flashed, like a hurricane hit’n a cyclone.
And before the night was over, my paycheck was all but gone.
(Repeat Chorus)
We danced until my feet hurt, then we would drink and dance some more.
She floated like a feather, across the sawdust-covered floor.
We closed down that tavern, then we found an all-night liquor store.
She said let’s go back to my place, what are we standing here for.
We went to her apartment, my mind was in a little haze.
But I know one thing for sure, we set the morning sun ablaze.
It was a glorious encounter, that filled the next two days.
Didn’t know two people could be together, in so many ways.
(Repeat Chorus)
When Sunday’s sun went down, she said, “Cowboy, it’s been fun for sure.”
You’re the best one so far, it’s a shame we don’t have time for more.
She said this is a one-time thing, and she led me across the floor.
She shoved me out the window, as her husband walked in the door.
It’s time to get up and go to work, that old alarm clock said.
It’s Monday and I still have her, rolling around in my head.
It’s six o’clock in the morning, and I’m feeling half past dead.
Thank God the weekend’s over, but I don’t think I can get out of bed.
Yea, thank God the weekend’s over, and I’m still alive today.
THE CHECKOUT LINE
I made the phone call
he's holdin got the work.
We gotta have the "ins" this time,
said he wouldn't front me dirt.
What we got between us
still ain't enough to score
Let's hit some jerk at an ATM
Or take out a liquor store
Warrants out for writin' bad checks.
Pawned everything we stole or had.
I'm tired of doing small time crime,
rolling whores and fags.
Haven't seen any gumball machines,
Just Dominos on the road.
Pull the piece from under the seat
I gotta feed this Jones
She turns to me grabs my hand
and she calmly says,
"Gotta feeling we're goin' down, goin' down We're on the road to ruin
can't find a place to turn around.
There's no need to test the water
when ya know you're gonna drown.
I gotta a feeling we're goin down.
Goin' down, goin' down".
We've shared a couple years together,
Still don't know your real name.
The only thing we have in common
is this disease and it's pain.
Dope makes magnetic friendships
Until the poles get turned around.
Look up ahead there's a Mini Mart.
We score then leave this town.
We only need enough,
to feed the monkey twice.
I'll take the clerk you hit the till.
Now listen to my advice.
Don't turn your back to the rear door.
Don't worry about the safe.
Lift and check under the drawer insert.
Grab the cash and we're outta the place!
She forces a smile and says to me.
"Gotta feeling we're goin' down, goin' down We're on the road to ruin
can't find a place to turn around.
There's no need to test the water
when ya know you're gonna drown.
I gotta a feeling we're goin' down".
I never saw the second guy
behind the office door.
Only heard the shots
And watched her drop
laying motionless on the floor..
I emptied my gatt
not one found home.
Used every hot rock in my clip.
Pulled the trigger on my 3x3
and only heard a click,
I knelt down put my hands in the air.
He knew I was his *****.
I called out to her,
there was no response.
Why did it go down like this?
It wasn't all a lost cause.
Someone had to pay the price.
Emily Maxwell traded this world
For a better life.
Window Teacher
by Odin Roark
As teacher
She was petite
Unassuming
Framed in layered paint
No make-up on her
Save occasional steam facials
Winter cold
Apartment hot
Patiently she granted access
Permitting learning through her
Worn but faithful eyes
Rectangular lenses
Forever dilated for 24/7 study
Across the street
Other windows
Same opportunity
Different lessons
Pulled blinds
Hiding fear
Glass with cracks
Glass turned cardboard
Innocent children
Faces of confusion
Above the street
Pigeon-lined roofs
Poised like sentinels
Destiny marking time
Standing guard
Here yesterday
Today
Tomorrow
Below the street
Tunnel-sounds of motion
Fathers
Mothers
Singles
Junkies
Suits
All riding to anywhere
But here
Down on the street
Few pedestrians
Some exploring a dumpster’s overflow
Dollar Store breakage
Bodega fast-food wrappings
Liquor store sadness
Nighttime festivities of the block
Broken bottles as glitter
Wet and dry
Dead or alive
Kicked
Smashed
Stacked
Bagged
Forgotten garbage
A growing city’s collateral damage
Beneath my building
Express train speeding
Rattling eyes of my teacher
Time for school
Real school
The kind only un-papered immigrants know
Learning what textbooks cannot teach
For you have to be blessed
With a window like mine
The glassed portal to what harsh reality
Bestows on many
Here where there is no graduation
No cap and gown celebration
Or Mom and dad accolades
No sweetheart promises forever
Only survival
And for the window-school drop outs…
A future of smaller classrooms
The kind with no willing and generous
Window teachers
The kind with bars to the outside
Where all the garbage walks the yard
Where subway vibrations become
Steel Sliding
Locking doors
Torturous echoes
Before lights out
Memories become dreams
In these dark classrooms
Where fear laden eyes
Once behind windows to the outside
Now reside in solitary regret
To return to condensation on glass
As the only obstacle to learning
To be free of eyes forever moist and blurry
Clouding remembrances
Of the petite unassuming window
Framed in glorious layers of paint
Oh…if only to return
Mama and Daddy was always Love-Dovey
She is His Sweetheart – He is Her Honey
First Love… Real Love - Forever True
Pa… I Pray to find A Man Like You…
Daddy Laughed and Put His Arm Round My Shoulder
And Said, “I’ll Tell You Somethin’, Now You’re Older
It’s got to do with Your Mother’s Fame
And Why I gave Her, The Nickname…
… Boot-Legged Mama
Boot-Legged Mama
Blue-jean Shorts and Vintage Tony Lama
Walked thru the Door… of A Liquor Store
… Packaged so Pretty… Pa Just had to Pour
… Boot-Legged Mama
Ma… Was there, to get 6-packs for A Party…
Pa… Was there, ‘cause of a Taste for Bacardi
He took One Look and Knew He Couldn’t Waste Her
Pa… Gave-up ‘Drank’… Just so He Could Chase her !
Dad, Said, ‘He’d Drowned in Dark-Eyes and Sweet-Aroma
Fine-Wine, Crystal… But Tuff’ Nuff’ to Down-Drama
Pa Claims, Mama’s Labeled by the F.D.A.
And Listed on Her Driver’s License is, A.K.A. …
… Boot-Legged Mama
Boot-Legged Mama
Genuine Woman, Who Made Him Wanna’
Take Her to be His Lawful Moonshine
… Married at Midnight – ‘cross The County-Line
… Boot-Legged Mama
Alcohol’s in Trauma; and Prohibition Told Her:
"Boot-Legged Mama… Done Drove Pa Sober !"
Now, Homemade-Hooch… is His Acquired Taste
180 Proof… Kicked All Over His Case !
Right Then, Mama Flowed into The Room
Pa, Teased and Said, “Still Full-Bodied and Perfumed !
Ma Hugged Us, then Handed Me – Old Boots and A Dress…
(and good advice)… “Go Git’ My Elliot Ness…
… and be a Boot-Legged Mama!
( Hey !... Did I Hear Somebody, In A Country Drawl ….
Order Up A Bottle of Kicking Alcohol !
Well, Here She Is… Y'all ! ...
Boot-Legged Mama ….
Well John (Moses) Freeman... You Said You Needed
Somethin' :) to Read tonight, before kicking up your
heels... Well, Here It Is (Have Fun - Son)
MoonBee
(Thank You For All Your Wonderful Comments
Now, I Can't Get Thru The Door for My Ego.. (Smile)
A young man, barely twenty-one,
On the town in search of fun.
The wrong side of the railroad track
And somehow never made it back.
A pickup truck, a black guitar…
I thought that they would take me far.
But music with no solid plan
Meant nothing when I met Suzanne.
Used to think that I was strong.
Those days are forever gone.
Want to know what led me wrong?
Blame the whiskey, women, and song.
Another seedy barroom stage.
Drinks and tips, our only wage.
But we had such sweet harmonies,
Ecstasies and agonies.
So, coast to coast, that highway song.
I thought we were where we belong.
But life moves like an old cliché
And Becky stole my heart away.
Used to think that I was strong.
Those days are forever gone.
Want to know what led me wrong?
Blame the whiskey, women, and song.
Our dreams will always let us down…
We were camped just out of town.
Me and Becky on the street
I sang my songs, she tapped her feet.
The liquor store was dark that night.
Truly locked up good and tight.
Breaking in was kind of fun
But then we had to cut and run.
Used to think that I was strong.
Those days are forever gone.
Want to know what led me wrong?
Blame the whiskey, women, and song.
The next week Becky said goodbye.
So I gave Annie Sue a try.
She stayed with me until the Spring
But couldn’t live without a ring.
A one man show once again.
Just me alone until the end.
A bottle of my favorite brew
I guess will somehow get me through.
Used to think that I was strong.
Those days are forever gone.
Want to know what led me wrong?
Blame the whiskey, women, and song.
An old man now, so many years
Same old dreams, the same old fears.
Still on the wrong side of the track
Too late now, no going back…
Used to think that I was strong.
Those days are forever gone.
Want to know what led me wrong?
Blame the whiskey, women, and song.
A man walks by in a gray polyester suit
He tells another man to call him Juice
The other man in bright orange hunter's clothes, he looks bold and brash
He tells Juice to call him Cold Hard Cash
They sit at the bus bench to discuss a new business they want to start
It all begins tomorrow around the corner at the local trailer park
Cold Hard Cash tells Juice, this is my last 500 bucks, but what the heck
It all started when the Master Pimp met with the Ultimate Red Neck
Cold Hard Cash tells Juice, follow me, I will give you the grand tour
Starting at my trailer on lot number four
As they enter Cold Hard Cash's place, it smells like rotting potatoes
Juice enters and slips on some cherry tomatoes
Cold Hard Cash says here and hands Juice a plate of sauerkraut and dogs
He tells Juice, if you stick around for supper, I will roast us some frogs
Juice asks Cold Hard Cash, after we eat, can I be given the golden key to the
park
Cold Hard Cash, says let's go next door we will begin at Judy Starks
Juice goes with Cold Hard Cash to interview their first employee in their line of
money makers
After the interview, Judy says yes, Juice comments, she's a real shaker
At the next interview, the girl shows them why her picture used to be on Breck
This all transpired when the Pimp Master hooked up with the Ultimate Red Neck
Juice says we need one more so we can rotate them around the clock
We will put them to work outside the laundry mat and liquor store, which are on
the same block
Cold Hard Cash asks what if one calls in sick
Juice answers in a business voice, then one of the others will pull a double shift
Juice points and asks what about this place
Cold Hard Cash says you don't want to see her face to face
Cold Hard Cash says she's the one they used to design Shrek
Good luck with your business, Master Pimp and the Ultimate Red Neck
I love to read Charles Bukowski
My Brother, Bill could have written like him
Sitting at a rust-leg old table in that fractured rectangle
above a liquor store
in downtown Littleton, Colorado
This Littleton (I don't know how it is now) was one of those towns where
every other store downtown was a liquor store
where buildings were so 1880s you damn well better have a rope ladder
out your window
So this poem really isn't about C.B.
It is about my strange Brother, Bill
I wrote another poem about him once when he was a child
I say he was strange but
only in retrospect I suspect
Before Martin Luther King
Before bussing
Before NAACP
Before gay lib
was Bill
self-proclaimed champion of the underdog
and as a product of the depression
champion of the down-and-out
He tried to act tough - actually he WAS tough -
talk hard as a diamond in the rough
But way down deep - no one ever plumbed the depth -
was a sensitive artist lover of fine music portrait photographer
quietly alive to all the world's beauty as well as ills
If you happened to hit that unplumbed depth of vein depth of energy
with a subject dear or by depression day standards controversial
Bill's eyes would lose focus
like turned around searching his brain
his whole red meat being welling up to the tip of his tongue
And any moment you expected some outburst
his body fairly shaking.....
But all you got generally was a click of the tongue
a well thought out grunt.....
"Awww HELL Dave!"
Mines the wonder
Living is an act of aggression. Every time I go out of the house it upsets the balance of the universe. Today I had someone tell me that things were coming undone, old news I replied. They said they were searching for the lost glory but I swear the only thing down that block is a liquor store, a gas station, and an industrial supply house whose rolling door looks so old it amazes me every time I walk by that it doesn’t fall off and crush me. I still bear that burden once a week, it’s the shortest route to the liquor store, I try to be stoic about it. Sometimes when I am sitting on the couch I think a profound thought such as ‘’what if these fleas were not meant for me, what if they were meant for someone else what have I gone and done?’’ In the final judgment, true virtue is going to be thin on the ground. Am I redeemed in the fact that they are fruitfully multiplying, held in surety, or is it usury, for the true and worthy recipient? Another mark in the book of deeds I tell you, and not the good kind. The postman is a really nice guy, I see him out there right now installing some brand new zip-tie on the mailbox to hold on the door that fell off last month, the birds nesting in the back won’t like that. Oh well, I will have to cut it off again, and this time I will have to bring the door in till the birds move on. When they do I will take it back out there and clean out the nest. Then he can zip-tie it back on for good. These timely maintenance tasks are all about scale, I say better luck next time. One little round spot of light in the world, that shines through the barn roof where a nail worked loose is that there is no point in changing, that would only make things worse. As to the hows and the whys, all I can say is the less I know the better, but ain’t the view grand.