Monday, March 5, 2012


I feel sorry for them.
I really do.

As I walk through the bar to my seat with my
drink. I feel sorry for them all.

Maggie, the over weight happy go-lucky
clown that puts a smile on everyone's face.

Martin, the loudest one in the pub, you
always know when he's not there because
the place would be missing it's roar.

Hank, who's always up for a game of pool.

Shirley Nose, who alway's know everyone's

Jan the bartender, who's always tired, and who
always miss her kids.

Bob the owner, who always love a party.
He never wants to be alone.

I feel sorry for them, indeed.

Always is their master.

They will live and die here.
Without really living.
They will live and die here.
Without really giving.

As Big Ron strike up the karaoke machine,
I can't help but wonder what dreams died
in this place.
What agents of fear haunt this place, and
how many other souls call this home.

I sat my drink down.
I do my karaoke turn,
and as I leave, I wave goodbye.