Saturday, September 8, 2018

The Night After the 2016 Presidential Election I Tried to Find a Bar Playing Billy Joel’s Piano Man. by J.B. Stone




I know he hated
to play this song live,
I know if he heard this song
played in a bar
he would cover his ears
press his palms tightly
and plead to the bartender
to turn this song off,
but nothing sings the ghosts
of old sailor shanties
quite like a 20th century rendition
these were the songs one toasts hope to
in the darkest of times
where the coastlines
and the fresh harbor air
no longer invoke
the same moment
and in a new era
where propaganda
swallows its nation whole
the populous is in need
of a new national anthem
we hold our mugs and pints
and sing to a muffled chorus
drunk like it’s our last night on earth
trying to find gospel in the draft dispensers,
holy water in the tap reserves
almighty Billy Joel!
distill these broken hearts
and try to pump them with the will to live
regardless of a world that is constantly burning





J.B. Stone is a neurodiverse fiction writer/poet from Brooklyn, now residing in Buffalo, NY. Stone is the author of the Micro-Chap, A Place Between Expired Dreams And Renewed Nightmares (Ghost City Press 2018). He has work featured and/or forthcoming in over a dozen publications including Cadaverous MagazineGhost City ReviewAnti-Heroin ChicIn Between Hangovers,OcculumCrack the SpineRiggwelter PressBreadcrumbs Magazine,BlazeVOX, among others.

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