Searching for work can take its toll
hoping this world won’t break your soul
somehow, we ought to spend some time
parking our thoughts and our behinds
longing for those long wooden seats
we turn towards Ashburner Street
One For The Road, what do you say?
the market bar, will be okay
straight glass talk, it’s my shout
here’s to porter, bitter or stout
Working will always take its toll
hoping this world don’t claim your soul
somehow, we ought to spend more time
free from the thought of the daily grind
longing for those long wooden seats
we turn into Ashburner Street
One For The Road, what do you say?
The market bar, will be okay
straight glass talk, it’s your shout
here’s to porter, bitter or stout
Giving up work, retired from toll
hoping this world will save its soul
now we ought to spend, our hard-earned time
refreshing our thoughts, refreshing our minds
longing for those long wooden seats
we return to Ashburner Street
One For The Road, what do you say?
the market bar, will be okay
straight glass talk, one more shout
here’s to porter, bitter or stout.
End of therapy...
recovering drunk requests
one for the road
lorna applebee is the name
this tale recurs always same
a phlebotomist and i
after twelve mai tai
elope a real bloody shame.
my mind's eye torment
inconceivable losses
one drink too many
Senryu on Mind Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Jenish Somadas
This evening hurts
I've grown rusty
quick wits groan
as curtains hide footlight
that makes its way
to stage
That voice - is it mine? -
grumpy, in need of... what....
and the audience standing around
stares confused...
fake popcorn smiles
in hot buttered nervousness
Wish they would give me one
to ease into fog
make them all go away
Wish I could play my violin
so no one would hear my
smoky rasp in the microphone
I burn up concessions
create wistful sunsets
at the very break of day
Fix me a strong one
for tonight and
one stronger for the morning
One For The Road
In the circus I mastered some arts.
Butt the unicycle - sad farce
its seat tightly wedged
when I hit a low hedge
needed help to pull it from me ****.
John G. Lawless
©2/5/2018
What would eat me were I road kill?
Not a thing, not a thing;
I'd be scooped by the neon men,
stowed inside a ziplock bag,
secreted in the sterile belly,
of another steel wheeled killer.
What would watch my empty vessel?
Not a thing, not a thing;
I'd be stuffed inside a metal draw,
a tag upon my toe,
no moon or sunlight seeing there,
the name and number death assigned.
What flowers would grow where my
blood spilt? Not a thing, not a thing;
I'd be dressed in suit's expensive noire,
hands folded on my chest,
finally compliant,
as they box me one more time.
6/4/17
All Rights Reserved By The Author
David Nickle Read
If there is anything worse than the banality of evil, it is the banality of maturity.
I thought of posting one in dedication to Lenny a soouper who was very kind to me,
in my infatious behaviors on a foorum I used to be on, but I was like naah, I'll give it
to him later on facebook. He doesn't need that validation, not the diddy man! :)
smile Leonard, I love ya! :) are you sure your're not interested in me baby, can we
talk about, life, baseball, vegetable gardens but foor heavens sake not LOVE! haha
Remember Me*
Remember me
The colors of my life
Paint a visual picture
~
Capture me
Then set it f r e e ~
~
One for the road?
That's nuts,
Give it to me!!
Pavement don't drink wine,
But sometimes just it's blood feast
When wine has deemed to feed it,
The souless hungry beast,
Oh, ya ought'a be careful,
Don't drive when you drink,
That seems ludicrous,
Just what do they really think?
That I can afford wine, and
a cab, too?
Get real, my friend, here's
what I propose to do,
Sleep among the trees,
Hopefully not to freeze,
But just to regroup my mind,
Cause I've become the confused kind.
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