welcome to the lost highway bar and grill. we've got barely live entertainment blowing up the spot with igneous rock concerts. our halfway house band plays behind voodoo chicken wire to avoid barfights with personal demons. here the bills are paid in full throttle with johnny cash or static charge cards. our beer is flatter and warmer than ohio in july and we dip bullets in whiskey just in case you want a shot. our martinis are not just shaken, they're traumatized. we've hired a messiah as barkeep to cut down on wine costs. (he should not be crossed.) be sure to tip your molotov cocktail waitress and make sure that insecurity stamps your hand at the door. our clientele consists of working class clowns beer nursing students menstrual cyclists and you on your worst day. this is where buddha bellies up to the bar. where angels fear to tread. we serve soda pop idols in coke bottles as thick as glasses. our burgers are served somewhere between rare and endangered. this is the place where sitting in the corner are our irregular customers playing a game of bones without dominoes. two bit hustlers run games of three card monte on one-time and that's when we make a clean break in the action to watch her debut in through the swinging doors. the kind of woman to make a caveman go back to all fours she made mount rushmore turn their collective heads had darwin rethinking that theory of evolution thing. she was cool and laid back like country time you might call her patsy recline except she's nobody's patsy so we'll just call her devil in a red dress or the one that got away for everyone else. ready to play reindeer games like "on cupid on vixen", she was an untamed heart specialist and she kept it together while all the king's men fell to pieces in her wake. so flash forth to present tense she sidles up to the bar lights a camel because she's out of cigarettes and orders a shirley temple of doom with a hemlock chaser. she puts a quarter in the jukebox and plays the saddest song you've ever heard. the flies out back by the dumpster stop buzzing to listen. grooms everywhere are instantly left at the altar and lucifer gets on the pay phone and drunkenly tells God that he misses him. that's the kind of song this is. the kind of tune in the key of let it all out heroin hears it and injects billie holiday in to his arm to ease the pain. this melody makes tears cry. and Hey-Zeus the bartender stops wiping down the bar for a minute cocks his head like a pistol and inquires as to the nature of the crime that would inspire a desert flower to act like cactus to drink with drive he pours two fingers of jack and listens to how her hand was dealt. by now all the hard rocks in the place have been reduced to gravel. so she swaps stories with her server the one who seems to relate to her prison tales because he's been behind bars before. now watch the hands on the clock twirl around triple time until big hand's straight up like no chaser little hand's leaning slightly to the right like our girl. her eyes are matching her dress now. she whispers something in his ear and he tells her she's a cab. she doesn't get it and won't until hours later after she's been poured into bed by sheer instinct. she doesn't remember how she got there but today the load seems lighter because someone leaned over and listened without playing ann landers. and if there's one lesson learned on this stretch of the lost highway it's that opinions are like saviours and everybody's got one.
----- "You Sensitive Bastard", Rob Sturma's latest book of poems, is available directly from the author. It's a pretty book with a real ISBN number and everything.
1. "RE: the lost highway bar and grill" In response to Reply # 0
I WANT MORE...LOL Aww man this had me, just waiting for the next line. The word play and the way you were able to stick to the story and keep it going were Extraordinary...grreat piece
******SiG*************** "my crisis stems where love used to bloom"-BarTek
2. "RE: the lost highway bar and grill" In response to Reply # 0 Wed Jul-14-04 03:07 AM
The visuals in this flow are locked into a "bizarro" flip~sided scenario that sits on another planet that just happens to LOOK like earth! -- *giggles*
But I've been to this lost highway bar & grill B~4! -- Sippin' my shame while playing a game of booty backgammon -- Backin' that thang up to the bar more times than I care to remember -- *smiles* -- But enuff about me --
This joint had my eyes jumpin' -- My heart thumpin' -- My head bumpin' to a surreal melody of madness -- wrapped up in individual packages of genius.
You're too damn good for your own good -- And prolly should be writing scripts for movies or summm shit! -- (((Fuck A Book)))
MENTAL NOTE: EMAIL THIS PCE TO SELF
I think I'm in love! -- ;^)
P.S. I recommend an ARCHIVE on this.
NO!
I DEMAND AN ARCHIVE ON THIS!!! -- *heheh*
A guitar string vibrating, a measure of my soul, a breech in the silence -- I've always felt like words come through me & I write them down... they have no master --- gsquared ♥
5. "RE: the lost highway bar and grill" In response to Reply # 2
I guess photo said it all Your talent is just incredible...it seems strange to read your pieces on the freestyle board, you're just too damn good!!Somebody please publish your work, because the injustice of this world is already driving me insane, more need not be added.
I enjoyed every single line, but this one stood out: >heroin hears it and injects billie holiday in to his arm to ease the pain. eventhough I hate quoting lines from your work...I would have to post the whole piece, because there's usually a couple things about every line that I enjoy!
3. "RE: the lost highway bar and grill" In response to Reply # 0
it seems that your wordplay gives your writings such a fantasy feel to them. These lines were crazy:
the flies out back by the dumpster stop buzzing to listen. grooms everywhere are instantly left at the altar and lucifer gets on the pay phone and drunkenly tells God that he misses him. that's the kind of song this is. the kind of tune in the key of let it all out heroin hears it and injects billie holiday in to his arm to ease the pain. this melody makes tears cry.
i think i'm gonna save this poem. It's a joy to read!
i have been away from the computer for a few rocking out at the Western Regional Poetry Slam with my team (2nd place, baby!), and this kind of response is a wonderful gift to come back to.
i'm all in slam mode right now, so my already ghostly presence may diminish even more. but please know, photo, black, soul and alla y'all...i am humbled.
thanks a trillion times. now go read another post. quickly.
slim
----- "You Sensitive Bastard", Rob Sturma's latest book of poems, is available directly from the author. It's a pretty book with a real ISBN number and everything.
12. "i fourth that motion." In response to Reply # 11
i really enjoyed reading this out loud. it's the lucifer missing God part and the fact that the red dress, though seemingly perfect when she walks in, is just as flawed as everyone else. damn, slim's done it again! when am i getting my book, btw?????????????? *hugs*
peace,
n.
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"I'm a curbside prophet with my hand in my pocket and I'm waiting for my rocket to come." - Jason Mraz
14. "RE: the lost highway bar and grill" In response to Reply # 0
i'm gonna save this poem, read it everyday so i have something to work towards. Damn you got talent, the talent we all wish we had in ourselves. the wordplay killed me, i've been playing around with the same sort of stuff but it doesn't come out as good as this piece. it was like a bizzare movie you created.
set my watch 5 minutes fast/ cause your smile puts a pause on the past/ presently taking me by surprise
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