Motel…the Morning After
you wake up again in a cheap motel in a morning after daze
and you walk out into the parking lot in the early morning haze
there’s a guy over by the dumpster trying to make that cigarette last
well, we all don’t get to pick and choose the role in which we’re cast
This is in response to Dora’s prompt over at https://dversepoets.com/2024/06/11/poetry-in-liminal-spaces/ to write about liminal spaces
The Ghost Of Hangovers Past
Your cell phone rings
but you’re not listening
because you left it
in The Fox and Vixen
behind the cistern
in the last stall on the left
next to the condom machine
and now it’s 4 am
your wife sleeps soundly beside you,
in the corner of the room
your hangover squats
sorting a tray of instruments.
It all began with a few beers,
some Christmas Cheer
so how did it get
from there to here?
Slowly you remember or think you remember….
Did you really poke your boss in the chest
and tell him that you know better
that you know best?
Did you really down three shots of scotch
grab Mark from marketing by the shoulders
and proclaim “I love you bro”
over and over ‘till he begged you to stop
to let go?
And why, why, why
did you call that shy Dutch girl from accounting
“sad-eyed lady of the lowlands”
again, over and over?
You groan inwardly
you groan outwardly
and just when you think
it could not get worse
your hangover stands up
and crosses the room
carrying what appears to be
a small mallet
Zooooosh,
he enters your head
and proceeds to knock on the inside of your skull
with that same mallet
all the time chanting this manic mantra
“deck the halls with human folly
Fa la la la la, la la la la”.
Four hours later your wife is shaking you
Up you get, she chimes
It’s time to do some Christmas shopping!
Joe Fresh opens at 9!
This poem turns up every Christmas, taking part in Christmas Blues over at Desperate Poets.
Limbo Blues
today I remembered limbo
you can’t stand too far from the tracks
today I remembered limbo
you can’t stand too far from the tracks
some days you’re moving forward
some days you’re hanging back
Bob Dylan mentions Rimbaud
Van Morrison does too
Bob Dylan, mentions Rimbaud
Van Morrison does too
today I remembered limbo
Jean Paul Sartre, Albert Camus
existential boogie
do that existential thing
existential boogie
do that existential thing
you can do it in your armchair
summer, autumn, winter, spring
and if you’re looking for an answer
don’t ask Albert Camus
if you’re looking for an answer
don’t ask Albert Camus
that dude’s been dead a long time
he can’t tell you what to do
existential boogie
do that existential thing
existential boogie
do that existential thing
well, you can do it in your armchair
summer, autumn, winter, spring.
I was at a concert last night at the York Theatre on Commercial Drive in Vancouver . Walter Trout and his band were playing with David Gogo opening. Walter is a virtuoso electric blues guitarist, he’s played with pretty much everyone starting with Canned Heat and on through John Mayall. One of the best shows I’ve been to in a while, electric blues at its best. But not just blues, Walter is an excellent songwriter and his insights between songs into his professional and personal life were fascinating. Rock solid band too. Made me revisit the above effort at writing a blues song! If Walter is in your area , be sure to check him out!
1
I just popped that pill I got
from a guy who called me ‘dude’
now the signs along the highway
are leaking semiotic fluid
2
and the cacti look psychotic
lizards parse the desert floor
far off in the clint-eyed distance
I see a slowly revolving door
3
and I’m feeling, demotic, neurotic, anecdotal, overused
I’m looking for a sanctuary, the fisherman and the shoes
I’ve got those hallucination highway peripatetic blues.
I’ve been writing/ rewriting this poem verse by verse this week, posting a new verse each day. I think I may have come to the end of the poem, but I may take it up again.
Either way, there is a fascinating prompt from Bjorn over at dverse on the subject of conceit: To quote Bjorn:
“A conceit is defined as an extended and complex metaphor”
From Wikipedia:
“In literature, a conceit is an extended metaphor with complex logic that governs a poetic passage or entire poem. By juxtaposing, usurping and manipulating images and ideas in surprising ways, a conceit invites the reader into a more sophisticated understanding of an object of comparison.”
Also from Anna in a previous dverse post:
“Conceits, on the other hand, surprise and shock the readers by making farfetched comparisons.”
Somewhere in there I think my poem fits…….maybe.
1
I just popped that pill I got
from a guy who called me ‘dude’
now the signs along the highway
are leaking semiotic fluid
2
and the cacti look psychotic
lizards parse the desert floor
far off in the clint-eyed distance
I see a slowly revolving door
Conclusion, if I can think of one will appear tomorrow
1
I just popped that pill I got
from a guy who called me ‘dude’
now the signs along the highway
are leaking semiotic fluid
Verse 2 will appear tomorrow.
Why, in blues songs,
is there always
a second sister
who is willing
to go to the country
if the first sister
does not want to go?
Peripatetic Blues
The signs along the highway
are leaking semiotic fluid
psychotic cacti strike a calculated pose
linguistic lizards parse the parched desert floor
Slim’s feeling demotic,
neurotic, anecdotal, over-used
he’s looking for a sanctuary
the fisherman and the shoes
he’s got those
needle in a haystack
peripatetic blues.
This is a response to Brendan’s challenge over at earthweal ……..The Perilous Chapel
“This week’s challenge is about finding that Chapel and a way through it. Where have you found it, what perils did you endure, how is it linked to the Grail you seek? What is that poetry? And what initiation is required to transform modernity into Earthdom?”
The poem above is an edit of a previous post, it’s more about the journey than the arrival…..here’s another take
The Road (re-mix)
the sun beats down like judgement
on the armor-plated road
you just called out God and the Devil
and neither of them showed
there’s a sour smell of whiskey sweat
on the air-conditioned air
sometimes you think you care too much
and sometimes you just don’t care
in a dream you see an angel
an angel with a gun
you’re five miles outside of nowhere
and you’re stuck inside a song.
Limbo Blues
today I remembered limbo
you can’t stand too far from the track
today I remembered limbo
you can’t stand too far from the track
the first line is about memory
the second is a disconnected fact
Bob Dylan mentions Rimbaud
Van Morrison does too
Bob Dylan mentions Rimbaud
Van Morrison does too
today I remembered limbo
Jean Paul Sartre, Albert Camus
existential boogie
do that existential thing
existential boogie
do that existential thing
you can do it in your armchair
summer, autumn, winter, spring.
Taking part in Open Link Night over at dVerse.
Peripatetic Blues
The signs along the highway
are leaking semiotic fluid
psychotic cacti strike a calculated pose
linguistic lizards parse the parched desert floor
Slim’s feeling demotic,
neurotic, anecdotal, over-used
he’s looking for a sanctuary
the fisherman and the shoes
he’s got those my way is the highway
peripatetic blues.
Taking part in Open Link Night over at dverse.
Good Song Blues
there’s a distance between a good song
and one that’s just okay
there’s a distance between a good song
and one that’s just okay
you can travel that distance in a minute
you can travel that distance in a day
but sometimes it takes forever
sometimes you can’t find the way
there’s a distance between a good song
and one that’s just okay.
and while I’m here i’d like to give a shout-out to one of my favourite music blogs – Zoolon Hub. Zoolon is George Blamey-Steeden, a very talented singer, songwriter, guitar player, composer and a witty and engaging blogger. Check out his blog ( for all you guitar players out there, he offers backing tracks to jam to, and for you poets, he will put your poems to music for a very reasonable sum).
Stopdraggingthepanda 