dead barfly

dead barfly

 

they spoke with reverence

of you

as you lay on your cold slab

eyes bloodshot from drink

 

the stories you used to tell

could keep a bar standing 

on the rim of beer glasses

without spilling a drop of insight

 

dry coaster

dry humor

dry tears

 

you were fun once

but the laughter

is now as cold

as your slab

 

just another body for the underground camp

sleep overs

an eternity brings

the only permission needed

is a few bucks for the tip.

 

 

 

 

erin-cilberto

4/23/23

Reviews

[W. Barrett Munn]

You had me at title on this one, Jacob, and it kept getting better and better.

Winston

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you, Winston.
j.

[red93]

The demon drink. 1 in 4 in-patients at our local Super-Hospital are alcohol-related cases. The figures speak for themselves.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you, red,
j.

[FGFRANKLIN]

Bars are such strange places. People go there to meet other people who are as desperate as they are or so drunk they'll be willing to lower their standards for the evening. It that context it doesn't seem like the apex of excitement.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

I could see the prince in Romeo and Juliet yelling at the people, saying "All are desperate!" instead of "All are punished"---
they are strange places...
j.

[Coyote Poetry]

Yes Jacob. I did like this poem.
"dry coaster
dry humor
dry tears"
I tell people, easy to be a drunk. Sometime harder, not to drink. Thank you my friend for sharing the amazing poetry.
Coyote

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you, Coyote,
j.

[Coyote Poetry]

You are welcome Jacob.

[Chris Shaw]

This piece resonated J. I have known several characters, larger than life who have entertained others while drinking themselves into illness and a subsequent early death. My brother was one of them. Three hundred attended his funeral and there were many many tears. Touched my heart you did, with this poem.

Chris

[jacob erin-cilberto]

My friend Sue was one of them as well...I am so sorry about your brother...
300 is well loved...I would be grateful for three.
j.

[Chris Shaw]

Both sadly missed. Well loved, as you are too J.

[Julie McCarthy (juliesp..]

This was a moving poem about a character a regular who probably frequently frequented the pub or bar or inn depending on which country he hails from
Bar for usa pub aust inn uk or all three for them all I’m not sure of the regular names for where they lay their glasses in each country

Pub usually aust

Anyway I can imagine his cronies his mates his drinking buddies at his wake or funeral and raising a glass and remembering his numerous jokes and stories and wishing him back

They will-most likely set aside a stool and coaster for him at the bar for a few years to come I’d say

I like your poem and the way it made me think of these things

[jacob erin-cilberto]

Yes, they would raise a glass...maybe two...
thank you for sharing these thoughts, Julie,
read moreYes, they would raise a glass...maybe two...
thank you for sharing these thoughts, Julie,
j.

[duff]

Tears represented on both sides of the spectrum. So many stories and emotions. Temperature control. Guard down. I like it Jacob.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you, duff,
j.

[Lorry]

The life and soul of the party, until both life and soul are redeemed in the hope they have a deposit return on them, but by the time you get to that point, there's not much funny left and they've heard it all before anyway.
This one is kind of familiar in that I gave up smoking about 6 years ago and thought to myself "is this when I get lung cancer or a heart attack now? And then covid came along and its friend long covid and between them they've ruined my left lung. So looks like I dodged a bullet there then, eh?

[jacob erin-cilberto]

Quite glad you did dodged that bullet.

[Perdition]

Hey, like I told you J. “No one worth a damn could ever write in a golden cage!” I wonder where Linda is now? and by God, “the right, the first thing I ever noticed about her was her legs, as well!! ….But I I’ll even open the door for you. Hope you find a live one.” Lol. It’s like he said J. And what is written on his marker as well, “ Don’t try” …. it’s still there.” I’d have to say “To all my friends!!”. Sylvester Stallone‘s brother was even the bartender…. sorry to say, but that is one of my most favorite of all time favorite movies. Maybe it’s the way he lived or maybe it’s the way he died, the way he loved and the way he was around surrounded even until the end, something about our disagreement sets ever so right with me., When he was younger, without a doubt he had a way of finding beauty even in a man who had pimples worse than his own, and when they asked him what he learned from his fathers beatings, and he responded “how to type“ he was just something that held a part of me. From the opera music to the sounds of the man alone until the last sound of that, bullet that put that lonely man exactly where he needed to be in his pain, and still he survived. We part ways on this, but I think that a wonderful part of us. We can agree to disagree, and still have the appreciation for a man that stabbed another in the stomach…“but hey…. that counts to“
Wonderful movie and wonderful book! Thanks, J.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you, Perdition!

[Soren]

Wow! this one contains some bars itself "the stories you used to tell could keep a bar standing on the rim of beer glasses without spilling a drop of insight" what a stanza. "just another body for the underground camp
sleep overs" another great line. This one spoke loudly from the grave.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you, Soren...I try.
j.