Bar Scrap in Small Town Heaven

It is the dusk drink flash night in small town bar heaven Whiskey shooters and stale draft beer Blurred and stirred the night becomes crazy Waltzing in a drunken meld of bodies we move slowly but at a quick pace Shoulders cross and stares begin to take control The bouncers look like a fun challenge And then it happens. The next day light shines brighter and the day seems ever so gray and hard Checking the body for possible fresh scars and light medical attention This was a bad one. Then the terrified heartbeat reacting to the slow motion ring of the phone The best friend talks in a muzzled tone like the mean voice of madhouse serial killers from cheap horror flicks The dissapointment of loss is covered by cool conversation and friendship's comforting assurance Recap. Shoulder to shoulder and fury of fists Outside Raging human beasts scream for death One quick minute and the fury calms itself to a logical stop Bar scrap night in small town Not for money Not for fame Release and forgive and nothing else It may be hard to understand but when it is your turn will you turn it down? Do you wanna go?This is simply a reflection of the madness that occured in my own personal experiences. In no way does it endorse fighting. I once fell deep into the world of violence and I did do the time and this poem is a small portion of my twisted thoughts and ideals during that time. However, on the other hand I can also say that in any situation that I had ever been in I always had willing participants and almost nothing ever got completely out of control. Some of the times were actually fun but most were terrible. This is not a lecture. It is just my story. Written April 15th, 2002 © on Apr 16 2002 10:15 AM PST   10 • 0 • 9