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.
Tuesday, January 31, 2023
Sacrifice by Daniel S. Irwin
Saturday, January 28, 2023
Standard Issue Guy-Drinking-All- Alone-at-the-Bar Poem by Jason Ryberg
Friday, January 27, 2023
Turned Down Service by Matt Amott
in the lobby
while checking in
to the hotel,
long red hair
and bright blues eyes.
He was a bit cocky
thinking he might be able
to get her into his room
but she turned him down
and added that
she was maid staff,
so the only time
she would ruffle his sheets
is after he checked out.
Thursday, January 26, 2023
How to Run Work for Poets & Morons 101 by Scott Simmons
Wednesday, January 25, 2023
Unexpectedly by Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal
Tuesday, January 24, 2023
we pray angels met you on the shore by Jason Baldinger
Monday, January 23, 2023
Me and My Motherfucking Dick: A Love Story by Jimmy Broccoli
So I’m standing at the urinal
with my dick…
while the skinny boys cut the cocaine on top of the restroom sink
I piss - then zip up my pants (after I securely put my dick away)
and return to the area furthest from the dance floor (I don’t dance)
I’m at the after-hours club in the shady part of town…
the lights are colorful and neon…
and even the less attractive look like movie stars in the dimness…
I’m feeling the buzz of my fourth vodka cranberry
“Bartender, another”, I shout over the thumping music –
he knows I tip well and he gets my drinks quickly
As I stand at a solo table in the corner –
“I’m too old for this shit”, I think to myself
A young guy in a shirt two sizes too small walks up to me
“Yo, I’m Damien”, “Yo (a word I never use) Damien, I’m Jimmy”, I respond…
He takes a nervous sip of his drink through a cocktail straw (a red one)
“I saw your dick while I was doin’ coke and I’m high as fuck. Nice dick, by the way”.
“Thanks”, I respond.
There are drugged-out, drunk, and shirtless boys in all directions –
among the celebration of pulsing, multi-colored, and fast-moving lights
– it’s all a bit much, to tell you the truth…
The young guy has lost interest and has disappeared into the dimness and into the lingering cigarette smoke…
“This one is on the house”, the handsome bartender yells
as he approaches me with a fresh beverage –
“Thanks”, I tell him – and he grabs my dick (through my pants)
for a few seconds longer than most do –
then he smiles broadly at me – and returns to the bar…
I think his name might be Scott - my alcoholic memory failing me again
I stay another hour and I’m fairly drunk at this point –
I return to the restroom and take my dick out at the urinal –
The skinny boys (different from the ones earlier) are at the sink cutting lines of cocaine –
The best-looking and (obviously) most fucked up of the group looks at me – and then stares at my dick –
I’ve finished, but keep it out several seconds longer because he continues to stare
“Hey Bro, I’m Zebulon”. With my dick still in my hand I say, “Hey Bro (I word I never use), I’m Jimmy – is your name really Zebulon?”, I ask
“It is tonight, handsome” he replies with a smirk only the conceited young guys can pull off convincingly
“Why don’t I get you a drink” Zeb states –
So I (carefully) put my dick away and zip up my pants –
Zeb and I exit the restroom together…
My generation still writes phone numbers on cocktail napkins…
so that is what I do
“Tomorrow night – my place?”, he asks
“Yeah, I’ll be there” I respond
“Bro, I’ll call you tomorrow to give you the address”.
“Alright Bro (that’s twice now), I’ll talk to you then”.
His smirk (as he looks at me kind of sideways) becomes a genuine smile and I suspect I’ll hear from him tomorrow…
“Nice fucking dick, by the way” he says before walking towards the exit sign
“Thanks”, I reply
It’s 3:30 in the morning and I’m a good deal messed up and sloppy –
My generation still hails a cab when one is available –
and tonight one is…
“1612 Havenhurst Drive”, I slur – as stale incense fills the small space…
My pants are too tight and uncomfortable and it’s been a long night
I overtip the driver and stumble up the walkway to my apartment door –
“I’m too old for this shit” I repeat to myself as I remove my pants and lay drunkenly across my bed
And – at least at this moment – my dick agrees.
Jimmy Broccoli lives in Atlanta, Georgia, where he enjoys hiking, playing the washboard, and playing with puppies.
Sunday, January 22, 2023
Losing Nights by George Gad Economou
another night lost to
bad pace, to poor concentration. failing to
capture the essence of
the rhythm, again; once, I knew how
to work the
system, had an excellent rhythm innately
written in my drunken genes. now, it’s
gone, I’m fighting to
regain the lost paradise. sinful endeavors and
misdirected thoughts guide me away from
the glorious path and I’m sharpening my
blade, crying to the gods, wailing at
the flaming sparrows, ready to bring
the war back where it
belongs; home.Saturday, January 21, 2023
Consent Forms by Tammy Smith
it means I won’t tell you why I did it
Not in the middle of a crowded emergency room.
Not while you’re hugging a clipboard.
I refuse to fill out any of your forms.
Stop staring at my scars.
I haven’t given you consent to trespass on memories.
When I say I can't remember,
it means I don’t trust you.
Not in the middle of a crowded bar.
Not while you’re holding an empty glass.
I won’t fill your needs.
Stop staring at my full bosom.
I haven’t given you consent to suck from my bottle.
Why not isn’t the answer you're looking for,
but it’s fun to curl my lips around the tight t
at the end of the sentence and sneer.
Maybe we just want different shots.
You can’t sip from my cup and refuse to tip the bartender.
Never assume soft drinks are free.
When I say I can’t remember,
it means I feel uncomfortable sharing my story with you.
Admissions become part of discharges.
Seeking consent to release information is sacred work.
Did that even happen is the worst way you ask why.
Friday, January 20, 2023
The Old Man and the Siesta by Renee Williams
Thursday, January 19, 2023
At Least I'm Laughing by Ian Lewis Copestick
2:30 a.m.
My T.V. is
playing old
comedy
episodes.
I fell asleep
before turning
it off.
Radio ones
I've never
heard before.
I don't really
want to be
awake half way
through the night.
But at least
I'm laughing.
Wednesday, January 18, 2023
Tuesday, January 17, 2023
A Time Before by David Painter
his eyes looking past the children at play;
past the couples hurrying to some romantic place.
He looks past the millions of city lights and
rushing cars
He looks past to a time when he was young
when white tee shirts
with cigarette packs rolled in the sleeves
were cool
when his hair was black and slicked back.
Men were coming home
wearing silk jackets with the map of Korea on the back
He had been there
fighting that war.
Now chopped mercury’s with 4 on the floor
Cruising looking to score
Bobby socked girls looking for the same
Cherry cokes, soda jerks, Car hops
this summer was made
for B bop
The fifties were overrun by the sixties
The jacket now frayed, hair streaked with grey.
soon Vietnam was all the rage.
Tour, just one tour, the army said sure.
A different kind of war
just a piece of jungle on the map
A lot of boys went and didn’t come back.
My father sits on a park bench most days.
I hold his hand and don’t know what to say.
Monday, January 16, 2023
trash removal by Ben Newell
I am tasked with trash removal,
a duty I perform twice daily
and this morning
after hurling the big black sack
into the dumpster
I hear a faint mumbling/scuffling
which turns out to be
a homeless man
hiding behind the steel bin;
scavenging for scraps
I imagine
or seeking shelter from
the stabbing wind
as I return to the dish pit,
a little less pissed
about my lot in life,
a little less angry
about my shitty job.
Sunday, January 15, 2023
Songs Sung to a False God by Ann Christine Tabaka
Saturday, January 14, 2023
Birdsong by Lauren Scharhag
Friday, January 13, 2023
They Say by B. Lynne Zika
Thursday, January 12, 2023
The Bear by Keith Pearson
Wednesday, January 11, 2023
Vaguely Human by Kevin M. Hibshman
Tuesday, January 10, 2023
Angelic autopsy by Mike Zone
Monday, January 9, 2023
Most Poems By Michael Lee Johnson
Sunday, January 8, 2023
Great Consideration by Randall Rogers
Generations till the end
gorge
debauch
hang breathlessly
as embedded flesh
learning
Vishnu destroys
and creates
on the way to the pub.
Them Voices.. By Michael E. Duckwall
I tried talking to myself, they say ten different voices in one head means “Schizophrenia?” or however you spell it. The voices say “My sp...
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near the on-ramp of I-10 in Crowley, Louisiana we unload our band equipment into the back of Gozzlebeck’s not the real name of the bar but a...
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Diamond hair Bathe in bourbon and butter You are my Sunday prayer You are everything You are all You are life Rita S. Spalding has had poem...
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there is a woman who is sometimes at my local café sitting outside with a glass of white wine and that’s not too unusual but i always notice...