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Strip Joint John

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Written by Dave Bottoms

Thursday, 27 March 2008

Ode to the piss and poetry that litter these paint peeled walls. The language of tile scum talking its dirty dirt, and dark mysterious grout gashing the straight slash that underlines the scribbly smut. The curly dark hairs like guitar-string clippings laid out in hieroglyphic fashion along with the black & brown bruises that anguish an ancient bowl, and sink the unsinkable sink. The fracture of mirror, its vagueness perpetuated by neglect, reflecting more the filth it wears than the face it bares. And the faucets, those tapity-tap taps that dripity-drip drip with their barking assault and marking of territory: Piss, rust, weak & jaundice.   Let us bow to this delivery room, this place of worship and redemption, on our hands and knees; lets us pray to the gods of acceptance and salvation, and hold tightly the truth of our oneness in this subterranean Hell. For my friends, when all is said and done (and often all is said & done) we must stare down into that reflection of loneliness and forfeit everything we pretend to be true yet know to be false. So together & alone lets grab the crusted-black porcelain puppy and rejoice in that familiar whirlpool; that big white collection plate that’s seen every which way this room can spin; that confession booth with ears wide open waiting for us to spill our guts. ‘Cause face it, boys & girls, in the end we all could use a little forgiveness from time to time, a little love to keep us going is what I’m talking about. Sing out loud, let your voice be heard, repeat after me: THIS IS THE REAL THING, MAN: I AM HERE AND THIS IS NOW AND ANYTHING OUTSIDE OF THIS IS JUST WINDOW DRESSING FOR THAT! Now say it twice… just in case. And let me tell you, my friends, it matters, it all matters, every bloody detail: this shitty poem and the dirt under your fingernails; the rotation of the earth & sun and the base beat pounding from the dance floor above; and even the stench of Boilermakers on your breath and that damn cockroach crawling up the inside of your pant leg. Asamatteroffact, especially that damn cockroach crawling up the inside of your pant leg. Copyright 2008 Dave Bottoms Keyword: Poetry Report this story | Add to Favorites | Send to Friends | Author's Profile No Comments posted Comments (5) Posted by Dirkin 2008-03-27 20:05:39 .... Wow. I really felt the passion behind this, the narration had true feeling in it. I feel sorry for you if you get this inspired by a mens room covered in piss and pubes, because then how do you get ten feet out the door in the mornings with the rest of the world to inspire you? Only joking, I really liked this, an excellent poem. (I wont be getting on my hands and knees to pray in any toilet though) + Report this comment Posted by SA Dave 2008-03-28 06:02:18 .... LOL... Inspiration comes from strange place, sometimes. In actuality, it was an assignment in a poetry class I took a while back. We had to write an "Ode to..." poem about whatever we wanted. I wanted to write something different and unusual, and this was the results. Thanks for your comment. + Report this comment Posted by lorislittlesecret 2008-03-28 11:55:27 .... Ode to a disgusting public toilet huh? It was definitely clever... + Report this comment Posted by R.E.Potter 2008-03-31 16:46:04 .... Don't know whether to laugh or get a damn bucket of soap and suds. Not to clean a bathroom....me,I feel disgusting after reading that.neat idea mr. Bottoms...any relation to timithy? + Report this comment Posted by R.E.Potter 2008-03-31 16:49:46 .... Don't know whether to laugh or get a damn bucket of soap and suds. Not to clean a bathroom....me,I feel disgusting after reading that.neat idea mr. Bottoms...any relation to timithy? + Report this comment Post a comment Post a comment

Last Updated ( Friday, 28 March 2008 )

 

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