Your Poetry Dot Com - Poem on a Bar Napkin

Array ( [sid] => 132288 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => Poem on a Bar Napkin [time] => 2007-03-02 04:37:28 [hometext] => Something I thought about while I was at the bar the other night. I guess inspiration can come from anywhere. [bodytext] => Sitting in the dimmed and neon light
at the place to be, at the perfect time,
I watch the crowds wave in and out,
up and down, high on cheap rum
and pheromones, and I think aloud
“This isn’t my scene.”

So I scrawl across a bar napkin
words about who I am, and what I like,
about God and Death and Time,
and the crowd begins to thin
as the music slows and the lights come up.

And it occurs to me that I’ve missed the point,
That these syphilitic drones, unable to walk,
or drive, or operate a condom
are the ones getting laid tonight,
and that in the race to overpopulate the planet,
this poet is losing ground.

And in the heated passion
of a parking lot brawl,
a resolution is made, to cease tending my mortal elements
and take a chance, a pill, a bride,
or anything else that might reinstate my humanity,
as I fall asleep in the bed of a truck. [comments] => 5 [counter] => 228 [topic] => 21 [informant] => Butterat_Zool [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 14 [ratings] => 3 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => Lifepoems ) Your Poetry Dot Com - Poem on a Bar Napkin

Poem on a Bar Napkin
Date: Friday, 2nd March 2007 @ 04:37:28 AM AEST
Topic: Sad Poetry

Contributed By: Butterat_Zool

Sitting in the dimmed and neon light
at the place to be, at the perfect time,
I watch the crowds wave in and out,
up and down, high on cheap rum
and pheromones, and I think aloud
“This isn’t my scene.”

So I scrawl across a bar napkin
words about who I am, and what I like,
about God and Death and Time,
and the crowd begins to thin
as the music slows and the lights come up.

And it occurs to me that I’ve missed the point,
That these syphilitic drones, unable to walk,
or drive, or operate a condom
are the ones getting laid tonight,
and that in the race to overpopulate the planet,
this poet is losing ground.

And in the heated passion
of a parking lot brawl,
a resolution is made, to cease tending my mortal elements
and take a chance, a pill, a bride,
or anything else that might reinstate my humanity,
as I fall asleep in the bed of a truck.

This poem is Copyright ยฉ Butterat_Zool

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