liquored mire
- Sebastian Jack
- Oct 28
- 2 min read
DIRTY SONG that makes you worm
who crawls and leaves its slime-like phlegm
is you that SWEATS on dancefloor, learning
joy of ooze, is one with them
who LOSE their shirts in piles, smoking
lips and hips in greedy flows
that grind amid their pelvis, SOAKING
jeans and pits in knowing knows..
---
I never left the bar that night
when saw him ROLL in bourbon poses
jiggerfuls of fingers light
upon my face, were RENDING ROSES
petals falling ‘bout the parts
where BUTTONS FAIL if denim fitting
far too snug, was end and start
of SNAKE, with seams of trousers splitting
---
open, laid the bass and drum
when singer softly slithered FRONT
and CENTER, blowing bubbles, scum
from speakers throbbing, FORAGE, HUNT
for others wanting LOOSENED hollows
mouths to feed if necks to suck
the BLOOD IN SIPS, polite their swallows
vodka laden, drunken muck..
---
wine from stemware, tipping neatly
PINKIES UP as other things
are POINTED ALSO skyward, sweetly
beckon us to toast the wings
we lost the night the angels fell
on vermin, serpents HOLDING SWAY
o’er tenders at the bar who sell
LIBATIONS HONEYED, let us pray
---
for all who came to move their limbs
and found the what BETWEEN said legs
were far the MORE important brimful..
beer can wait as foamy dregs
will add the slip we slide upon
as music moves the BEAST WITHIN
our DANCING FEET to kneel, are gone
all fears of sinking, drinking gin
---
a worm that CRAWLS and finds its niche
below the mirrored ball and strobe
we plunge and press in pleasant QUICHE
a pie we drill and cheese we probe..
tequila drank, I pen a verse
about a night in DEMON’S LAIR
where CHERUBS WEPT, an ev’ning cursed
a Saturday for me, unrare...