We're the Ezine dedicated to all things barroom. We are slightly off what others consider the norm and always the last to close the bar. If you prefer the local dive bar to the glitz of some overpriced club then you're our kind of people. So welcome grab a drink and enjoy.
Friday, September 30, 2022
New York memoir by Stephen House
Thursday, September 29, 2022
Hoping for Rain By Beverly Hennessy Summa
Wednesday, September 28, 2022
Taking The Dogs Out By Jake St. John
Tuesday, September 27, 2022
The man on the hot Prague Roof by Nick Gerrard
Today what about you talk to your wife? You take a day off from the heat of the roof; take a day off and talk to your wife. Instead of shouting at her because you’re frustrated at how things turned out.
You are fucked off with working on hot roves for rich fuckers whilst you sit in your box miles away from any historical part of the city. Far away from the barber shops and the taco bars. Far away from the street food place by the river, far away from the quiz nights in English and the bookshops with writer’s groups. What if you could be nearer. What if you could look out of a nice apartment and see guys sweating on roves. Guys with overalls rolled down to their middle tarmacking the road, re-laying the tram tracks. What if you lounged in a beer garden with a view.
‘I’ll get to the fuckin bathroom when I have five minutes.,’ You say to her.
‘You said that last week and the week before.’
You look at her and wonder if she fucking even knows you.
‘Look! I’m fucking knackered after six days a week hard graft, and on my one day off you moan cuss I don’t re-tile the fucking bathroom!’ You look at her and screw up your face and open your hands and plead for some acknowledgment.
‘I work my fucking socks off for this family, don’t you know that?’ You shake your head.
She walks off with no answer.
You follow her.
‘Never mind, forget about it!’
You swear and shake your head and grab your jacket and head out the door, slamming it.
You walk around the estate. You watch the mothers gossiping as they hang the washing up on the hot roves of the block. You know they are moaning about their men, you just know it. You kick a ball back to the gang of happy kids, the young ones. You bow your head as you pass the bigger kids some on bikes others sitting on the wall of the little shop. Others are stood around smoking and shouting at their phones. You walk past and hear their swearing and anger. They sing along to some rap song on a phone. Every other word is you cunt…I’m gonna mess you up!...Fuck the police! You can’t hum along to their songs anymore, there’s no tunes coming from their teenage mouths.
You go into the pub, the usual crowd is there. A pivo is plonked on the table In front of you before you even ask. You raise your glass and nod and wait for the complaining to start.
Monday, September 26, 2022
Ghost Rider By Kevin M. Hibshman
See me spin in a cloud of dust.
I'll be back if and when you've got something to steal.
I got to keep my seat warm.
I live for free.
No chains round my heart.
No guilt hanging round my head.
Back to some portal where dimensions shift almost indiscriminately.
I gun it.
I'm gone like a daisy in the midst of a mine field.
All you see is a wisp of smoke.
Pale honey sunset.
I must taste it with all that grit clinging to my teeth.
I've been waiting all my life to collect big time on
the wages of sin.
Part man, part myth.
Don't miss me.
I could never belong in your world.
Sunday, September 25, 2022
Delayed Teenage Angst by Scott Simmons
Saturday, September 24, 2022
Rogue Wave by John Patrick Robbins
Friday, September 23, 2022
Loukaniko At Tom’s Tavern by John Harold Olson
Thursday, September 22, 2022
Arielle by Cord Moreski
Tuesday, September 20, 2022
tornado in Vern’s Place by Preacher Allgood
Monday, September 19, 2022
Prayer for the Excommunicated by Lauren Scharhag
Saturday, September 17, 2022
Japanese Horses by Paul Ilechko
Friday, September 16, 2022
medicine by Scott Ferry
Thursday, September 15, 2022
emma daydreams by Tom Blessing
wrapped in shawls
of rice paper
on her stool
of the past
the great eraser
Wednesday, September 14, 2022
Tableware by C.S. Mathews
Tuesday, September 13, 2022
Void by Skaja Evens
Monday, September 12, 2022
Everybody Wants to Own Me by Rocío Iglesias
Sunday, September 11, 2022
Assault and Battery by Charlie Brice
Saturday, September 10, 2022
National Park by Jonathan Butcher
Friday, September 9, 2022
Feds in Pork Pie Hats Running Round Like Headless Chickens by John Doyle
Thursday, September 8, 2022
The Two Lovers by Becky Parker
Chaotic voices swarm in her head.
Claustrophobia squeezes her wisps of breath.
In her stark apartment, she frantically searches, without success, behind the couch, underneath a velvet art poster of Elvis, in the panel behind the porcelain pot, and finally, in the pockets of her late husband’s Army jacket, which she tearfully clutches.
Old habits die hard:
She once knew Jack Daniels as an intimate lover,
who arrived at midnight and stayed until dawn,
until he changed his mailing address to match hers.
She had reveled in his amber color; how he helped her forget.
Familiarity breeds contempt:
One fateful night; the face in the mirror showed
and a soul like a locust shell, hard and cracked.
The fog inside hear began to clear:
Soon, his wooing sonnets outside her window sounded
and out of tune.
He had preyed on her vulnerability, provided false hope, isolation, and cold comfort.
Courage sparked and blazed within her to kick him out.
She now collapsed on the bed, suddenly weary but resolved.
She walked into the kitchen and stared into the steady, loving eyes of her new lover, Earl Gray. His hot steamy embrace provided comfort and distraction. She feels stronger, able to inhale.
For now, it is enough.
Wednesday, September 7, 2022
The Map by Gloria Mindock
You Can Run By Alec Solomita
The blues quotes Joe Louis as I take a hit of weed. The blues says to me, “You can run but you can’t hide.” Been running pretty well until t...
She was a secret sharer of intimate joys Was the mistress to one man and the wife of another Loved that sick feeling that one ...
Outdoorsman standing beside a mountain stream cracks open a can of BUSCHHHHH . . . Catchy marketing campaign, an attempt to revitalize th...
That night, a broken axle, sticks inside me, sweet burnt odor of bourbon & Marlboros. Drunk on Wild Turkey, Mama cussed Daddy out, my si...