Thursday, 16 July 2009


I lurk on the left at a bar vibrating

(the beat-box is loud alright):

my drink is drained, throat like a campfire

with a barmaid busy on the right


but, in between, an invisible force-field

is clamped in a column to the bar

unseen, unstable because, as she approaches,

the waitress fades away.


I burn and blether inside a bubble

when she lurches back to the light:

I swear she desires to slop me a glassful

but the obstacle won’t let her loose.


The band is booming, the funk is fierce,

I sizzle in personal space

unbeknown because of a barrier

of tension that pushes her back.


I shake and shout and waggle my wallet

but the barmaid won’t force through the fence

when up bowls a boy with a smile like a sunset

and smashes resistance, busts up the ban


on the Smashed.


  1. This reads like a delightful tongue-twister. I thoroughly enjoyed the imagery.

  2. Been there and done that...Great.

    Regards j.

  3. wonderful as always, I find that I am always shocked at the amount of wisdom and inspiration your son can bestow within you, you are truely lucky..
    @abeer61aj from twitter, I always mention you, so I though you might know me!

  4. This is a great ol' piece. Makes me miss England. Going to gave to blitz through your massive collection here.

  5. Great imagery John.. I could see it all in the blink of an eye! I am a Dj's wife and have spent many nights behind the turn tables observing what goes on around me :) Thanks 4 sharing!