I’m a barfly.

In bars I fly.

I slap tenners

On the wet 

Bar top.

People stand clear

Waiting for me to flop.

But I don’t drop.

“Whiskey, double”,

“Erm Jamisons please”.




“NO” and “no bloody ice”

“You’ll kill it”.

“Unless it kills me first”

Wish I had a tab

Just in case.


I don’t fight.

I can.

But sometimes

I glare, at those

Those with ego’s

Bigger than their ability.

I lack civility.

I’m told.

As from my wad I unfold.

And money has turned into plastic.

I hate it.

And I hate waving more plastic

At more plastic which steals

My life of reality.

And an algorithm reads my life.


That’s strife and should burn.

As I stare around looking,

Waiting for something.

But there really is nothing.

I’d sing with the music,

But I can’t sing.

It all spins like a vicious ring

“Another double.”







© Mentalelf 2023
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critique and comments welcome.
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That is a great plate!

The poem has a life of its own. I just let it wash over me, and now I’m standing at the doors to to the garden raising a glass of laphroaig. Cheers.

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