Tuesday, January 22, 2008

I Love This Bar (The Beerhall Epic, Part 2) Eric Bachman and Singleton

This moment
This Margarita
This Tia Maria
spin me on the floor
is everything
and more
wrapped up
in cellophane,
zip lock
bags
to go.....

Too many people,
too many fraidy cats,
too many fools,
worried about the two step
the swing me up and
swing me low,
"dont drop me on the floor",
won't know this moment
like we know it,
teetering on the edge,
barefoot toes on the drumroll,
making boombox
outa nothin'.....

And the show goes on.....

because this is the day,
the time of our lives,
our chariot swings low
swings so very sweet
and heavy with
the swamp beat
rhythm and blues,
sticky with sweat
and high on the
drug of living each moment
to meet and make love
to the next one to come...

This is the time
this is the place
and we are inheritors
of the long night ahead

"I won't let you fall"

And I never will--

But somethings just happen
and we can never control
the whys or the hows

Some people fall forever
through the blue sky of love
and the hazy clouds of doubt

And sometimes we land
in the arms of the one
we dreamed would catch us

Today is that day--
a brand new day
never before known

name it
and it's yours

name it
and let's take our time
coming home for the night.

58 comments:

WILSONART said...

Hi,
I come here often to study your beautiful word paintings, the colors of which have no bounds.

May I add a link to my blog?
~Babs

singleton said...

Of course! And we need to update ours, too! Things have been cuckoo here lately with Eric off on dial-up in ten foot snow and me off in never~ever land! Thank you so much for the compliments, friend....I'm gonna update our sidebar drumroll this evening!

Clink!

singleton said...

time stopped
hands suspended
rusted
raised in salutation
broken
frozen
midstream
halfway there
and half way gone
teetering back and
forth
between
last night and
tomorrow
and I watched it
going nowhere.....

midnight
in a scrap book....

tonight I turned the page,
winding up,
winding down,
crossing the dotted lines....

singleton said...

"Quarter til one"
she said
as a matter of fact,
"Quarter til one"
and your clock
reads three
and mine
nine thirty
and we're lost in between....

"Quarter til one"
I whispered back,
sweet sister on the line,
"peace~love"
and I could talk forever
a thousand
remember~me stories
and
how~to~do's
and
how~about~you's
and I
would'ves
if I
could'ves...

"Quarter of one"
and
I love you....

singleton said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
singleton said...

"Don't give up on me" he said
before I cheered him on,
thought him out,
gave him
half past ten,
and I would've done just that,
if he
hadn't said
he loved the blues...

And now I understand...

singleton said...

she's sidewalk jumping
barefoot
and paisley dressed
all of six
legs like sticks
in make believe
on a one block long world....
and she's safe...

How dare you
change that oil?

singleton said...

I rolled down the windows
and let the music
slurp
slide
oooze
past me,
fluid
smokey
lost in traffic,
love bugs splattered on the
windowshield of
the car behind me,
mud splashed on
the fenderwells
of the four wheel drive
humming
in seven o'clock sync,
tires thu-thudding
to mine purring.
I rolled the window down,
flicked an ash,
two fingers,
and threw a kiss....
Good-bye,
and gunned it....

DeLi said...

oh, just so lovcely blurs...and teh words........*sigh***

singleton said...

deli...
Clink! my friend! We've been wandering, dawdling,
off
chasing
rainbows and
things that go bump in the night,
missed your hello!

Peace, friend

singleton said...

I waited
for magic,
black and mooned,
to come crawling,
revvving,
creeping
up my drive-way,
find me here
dancing to the
blues
and good ole rock and roll
and X's on
a dollar general
calendar....

I waited.

And then I put my boots on....

singleton said...

It's empty at the bar.
Neon lights flashing,
Red candles in spiderweb cups
melting,
wicks swimming
in pools of
dirty wax,
shadows
taunt
the walls,
the
chalky lines
of other worlds,
other words,
scribbled over,
on top of
by strangers....
The mahogony bar shines,
bottle free,
coasterless,
a bowling alley
for the one Mich light cap
I plunk down,
bouncing,
rolling,
hoola hooping
over
the ghosted
planks of
fingerprints
and
elbows resting...

I take a deep swig
of the only sweet cider
that warms me....

And
dance.......

Maithri said...

This is so beautiful Singleton....

Looking forward to hearing you guys duet again soon,

Love, M

singleton said...

Maithri....
I don't know where Eric is off to, but I hope wherever to, for whatever reasons, it's good to him, good for his soul and that sometime soon, we'll all hear he's OK....

Peace~love my friend...
Wishing you week-end with just that!

WILSONART said...

Kinda lonesome in here without
Mr. Eric,,,,,I keep sticking my head in to see if he's back.

karoline said...

your words alight on my mind like fields of butterflys on blooms...

hugs to you both...

k:))

singleton said...

Babs....It's an empty bar....And I know that soon, I'll have to just start scribblin' on the walls....
talkin' to myself....
plunkin' quarters in the juke box....


Karoline...Muah! It's so wonderful to see you! Like "butterflys on blooms".......

Peace~love friends
It makes the world
Round......

eric1313 said...

The key still fit through the rust
the cobwebs
the wet dust glue--
through tears and a smile
old lighting and fresh water
mixing as always in the storm

The door opened
the air was still
music weaved its path
and I could see myself
where I left myself
at the back corner table
with sweet lady baby blue
drawing the faces
that she has loved forever
in a notebook covered
with butterflies
and the luckiest numbers,
napkins scattered like leaves
with lazy, borrowed words
passed back and fourth,
secrets meant-to-be told
loves meant-to-be felt
delicate impossiblities
on soft white clouds
under the blue and black lights

"Lemondrop?" she asks
finishing the lips of another sister set free to fly
on will-o-the-wisp wings
another spirit to float beside her

And I know I never left--
or at least my friend,
the creator of butterfly dreams,
never left the hollow in my heart

She looks up
as another one flies free
and her smile tells me I'm home
and for once
in all the bl;ue moons I've known
I feel like I'm there

She knows

And now
so do I

WILSONART said...

Aaah, beautiful!
He's home,,,,safe and sound.
Under the Butterfly wings, and on top of the world,,,at that back corner table.
So good seeing you here.
Waiting for the duets.

~Babs

eric1313 said...

Babs, is it?

Thank you so much on behalf od the two of us.

This little private space here is something I really have missed in my absence. I'm glad you keep the blue lady company. She's the best. What a poetic soul! What an artist! Etc, etc, etc...

eric1313 said...

Singleton...

I'm reading these poems you wrote and it breaks my heart.

I'm the only person I know who actually cherishes a broken heart!

It feels so good to be alive and here and writing.

Clink!


Temporal Pages
Sing, E1313

time stood still
hands suspended
rusted to the spot
raised in salutation
broken
frozen
midstream
halfway there
and halfway gone
forever
a second
teetering back and
forth
between
last night and
tomorrow
and I watched it
going nowhere.....

midnight
in a scrap book....

tonight I turned the page,
winding up,
winding down,
crossing the dotted lines....

tonight I turned the page,
and I wonder
what one sublime day
what moment
what picture
do I want to see

to be

next

eric1313 said...

Little Rainbow
Sing, E1313

she's sidewalk jumping
barefoot
a sun goddess
paisley moon dressed
all of six
legs like sticks
in make believe
on a one block long world....
only the sun follows her,
golden face of god
from the blue...

she's safe...

How dare you
change that oil?

Time deigns to spare us
only a few moments
like this.

eric1313 said...
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eric1313 said...

12 Steps to Heaven's Last Call
Sing, E1313

I waited for magic
black and mooned,
to come crawling,
revvving,
creeping
up my drive-way,
find me here
dancing to the blues
and good ole rock and roll...

X's on
a dollar general
calendar....

I waited.

and then I put my boots on....

hear that?

the magic...

in my boots,
or in the way I walk

either way you want to see it...

there's no need for secrecy
between true old friends
or new nightlife faces

eric1313 said...

Happy Birthday, Singleton!

Mine was back on march 5th--it's nice to get back to the old piscean connection we share.

Hope you like what I did with the words scratched on the walls. They were beautifull to begin with. Many of them didn't need me to bother them.

I'm so glad you kept the storm candle lit for me to find my way home.

My thoughts are with you and all of those who you love.

p&l

eric1313 said...

how's that for a midnight scrapbook?

singleton said...

And I was hitchhiking,
riding on Flatbed Cadillacs
and
listening to AM radio....

smoking out the windows....

Watching midnight
crossing dotted lines,
state lines,
and lines I've never heard before...

I was just hitchhiking....

eric1313 said...

All I could hope for
was an easy ride
that might be going
my way for once...

And here it is--
like a warm
southern wind
blowing at my back

the ocean
is only a day's ride
from here

I'll meet you there
or on another road,
somewhere beyond
the wild winds
of the south sea

WILSONART said...

Aaah yes,,,,,they're back.
Sweet music floating on the night,,,it's once again the season of the Butterfly Bar.
Life is good.

singleton said...

Babs....scooch over, I need a seat at the bar....order me a tall one...and we'll run a tab......
Clink!

He leaned over
breathless
and whispy
and Heineken eyed,
one up,
one scrunched
to see me the better with....
and whispered sweet
nothings,
sweet "Are you kidding me?s"
in the crook of my neck
and I laughed
at his posture,
bent and posed for the chase,
at his wallet,
open and splayed,
a fish filet,

at his gall.....

And I sat that dance out,
twirling my hair,
snubbing my cigarette in circles,
tapping my broken foot
on the rung....
smiling at freedom....

peace~love

singleton said...

He drums.
Bangs the heart.
Slams
the song into
sign language,
lost language,
close~your~eyes language.

He growls.
Spits the words out,
drags them through the house,
steak bones for a stud,
a rabid rat,
a hungary cat....

He drums.....
And in the shadows,
the secets they'll never tell,
he's
the
fix....
the accidental addiction...
the story
with the
hand~me~down ending....

He drums....
And I'm listening....

eric1313 said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
eric1313 said...

Oh my god--is that ever the best poem.

I don't know who's drumming but you have my attention. I'm riveted right here.

And of course I'm sad to have missed you last night. What a party that might have been...

Oh well, to the next time...

eric1313 said...
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eric1313 said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
eric1313 said...

She has curves~
that must be said
first,
middle
and last...

She has curves~
and a penchant
for the dramatic

"Tell me your fondest wish
and I'll make it happen
tonight"

She has curves~
the body of a seraphim,
the powers to match.

Her touch heals
the deepest wound

Her voice calms
the maelstrom

She has curves~
a roadmap to desire,
a city of divine sin
rising from the desert,
our monument to time
spent rolling
through satin, lace,
and the too-small hours
of soft laughter,
slow hands taking in
majestic scenery...

Her roads wind onward
hot to my touch,
I'm melting--
melting
drifting
floating

and she's flying...

To walk her promised land
for ten thousand years,
I have a lovelorn lust.

And sweet lady she...
She holds my key.

She has curves~

singleton said...

It's hot now,
kids slamming,
clanking,
screeching
in and out the screen door,
lettin' flies in,
and draggin'
in dirt,
their sweaty faces
round
and naive,
beaded upper lips yacking...
pale white flesh,
winterized,
pink now
from the heat
and the
suddeness of sun...

It's hot now,
and she sit's barefooted
on the steps,
drinking ice cold beer like
lemonade in a long tall glass
rimmed in sugar,
basking
in their
make~believe.....

swatting flies....

eric1313 said...

A world away from
the tropical dream scene
boogie woogie southern beach
he walks against the biting wind
ice crunching under foot
in two-step whispers of thunder
the snow falls one more time
the last time.

Freebird playing in his head
his mind a world away
with a wonderful friend
an ocean of good times
wild night lives...

on a back porch,

swatting flies...

the wind cried a thousand names
but none are equall to the one
he is thinking of
right now

singleton said...

It snowed here,too
white noise falling
in a blanket,
a heavy flannel
rain.
And I danced under
the meteor shower,
silver confetti,
a thousand little mirrors
cascading in a river...

And
did you know
it thunders
just before it snows?
A rambling rumbling thousand mile long train
barreling down
rickety
blue tracks....

Just before the sky cries....

eric1313 said...

And when the sky weeps
down onto our tin roofs
onto the green tree tops
onto the heads of lovers
running through the mists

The thunder
is its own statement
a heavenly echo
of racing hearts

So let the heavens cry
glory!
plastering hair
to our faces

Let the thunder rumble--
under it's heavy rolls
let us not fear a fall
but exult in being free

In the hands of our love
we are free
to let our innermost thunder
tell the story
mouth to mouth
chest to chest

one moment to the next

the hot rain falls

but
it's our blood
on hottest blood
that make the mists thick,
our own blanket
as we ride out
a gentle storm
of the spring dawning

eric1313 said...

I'm on my way down to see the familly, Sing.

I wish we could party sometime soon.

I miss you so much!

singleton said...

Eric....
Wishing you Enjoy!
And ham!
and taters!
Hugs,
and the circle.....

eric1313 said...

Oh, yeah. I felt the love and ate the taters and ham and chocolate bunnies and everything else.

The circle is complete
and yet
will never be completed.

It just keeps growing,
one love link
clinked around the
love of the next,
never ever knowing
when another one
will join up
for the wild
daisy chain
journey
made easier
hand in hand

Love beads
around a leather thong
each new one adding
to the meaning
of the rest

The birds flock before
they take the skies
under wing

And your words wrap me up
like a comforter on a winter
night

Your heart makes the circle
complete

My friend.

singleton said...

She held you,
wrapped you,
caterpiller onto
caterpiller,
zipped you into
a woolen
boyscout sleeping bag,
rain beating on the tent

And the morning
reaked of cold wet earth,
damp and red clayed...
sudden
pottery on a wheel
spinning,
muddy ash in her fingertips,
under her nails,
forming,
shaping,
making you....

But not into this.
What you've become.
Never this.

The glaze drips,
sour,
green apple smoke
running,
pooling,
caterpiller ghosts....

singleton said...

lost child...

singleton said...

He folds paper
endless little crinkles
wrinkles
tye dyed lines
that add up
to elephants
and airplanes
and imaginary hearts,
creases,
and crumps,
from newspapers,
tabloids,
"I can't pay you now" bills...

And she draws peace signs....

"they're crazy" the lady with the shopping bag said....

But she was only watching.....

eric1313 said...
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eric1313 said...

She knows the story--
half the story
half the glass

but that's enough
to know
and she breathes it in
like mist
on a to-soon-to-tell
midspring morning

Starshine falling away
from an emboldened
yellow sun

He knows the score--
half the score
half the picture

And that's enough
to know
so he goes all in
pocket aces
against the flush draw
--inevitable

Star-eyes falling;
the firey tears of a
dying god

The difference is the same

One world rises
as another world falls

"Good morning, sunshine..."
she says
in the morning after glow
rolling in so close
he can taste her love
for days without end...

Eden's garden must be
the small sweaty space
between two worlds
before the dawn

two halfs of the story
the picture
the score

the glass...

singleton said...

I clink my glass,
dusty on the edges
from making ring art upside down
in an empty bar,
and listen
to the sound
of boom boxes
with no noise,
less little creatures climbing the walls,
scratching at the screen,
waiting to be seen...

And I twirl for a moment,
swirl on the
naugahyde seat...
before I plunk my quarters on
the counter....

juke box dreams for
the
next
fanny on my barstool....

I already tipped the waitress....

singleton said...

He asked her if she
had ever been
here in the morning
after,
without the crowds,
the cowboy boots
and wallets splayed,
tiparillas in the ashtray...
seen the dance floor naked...

And she laughed.

Who would want to
see
the
dance floor
naked?

singleton said...

"I have two left feet"
he cliched into the ashtray,
and I swayed,
"You're lucky"
I whispered....
"You could have none"

"I don't have any rhythm"
he whined and
I laughed....
and held out my hand...

Two fingers touching,
I whispered
"Close your eyes" and
he listened...

Peace....

Lyrically speaking said...

Didn't know about this blog, wow, this truly makes me want to run home and write...

Lyrically speaking said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
singleton said...

Lyrically.....
Ah, the bread crumbs brought you to the bar:)
And you write so beautifully, girl,
pull up a chair
and clink! with us!

singleton said...

White washed night,
sheer panels of make~believe, make~it~up~as~you go,
ballet backdrops
blanketing the floor...
And I stopped for a moment
and wondered
where was this thing going?
and
then
decided
it was best not to wonder.

Better to curtsy at the curtain call....

eric1313 said...

The door swung open

and the living breath
of a hurricane

named Fate

flaunced in that door

like the own the shot

"The next round is on you"
said the bartender

as Fate blows right by
while you were waiting

on something less dramatic

singleton said...

She was a drama queen
all wind and woe,
pleated skirt
umbrella~ed upside down,
and she stood on stilted legs,
braced
for the storm,
knee high in mud and
backyard rumors...

and held her breathe
for the five o'clock news

Hurricanes are like that....

eric1313 said...

all wind a wet and weather

but with a heart....

pure love and pure power
were the same in her hands
eyes
a heart like that

is wroth a million crawling steps
in the mud
through the mire
the rain riding the wind
between the delicate dance
of lightning in the night

hurricanes are like that

and it looks like Fate
has just blown in
to crash this
beach ball
shin dig

the door swings on a hinge...

Hurricanes
are just like that.