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 Feb 2013 Mike Winegar
Morgan
Sweep up the debris from the back streets in my skull
There you can see the cracks in my foundation & how they got there
Bricks that shifted under the weight of my remorse
And windows shattered under the pressure of this guilt
Shingles blowing in the cold winds of rotting grief
I scraped up metal and dug it into my arm
Just to feel the warmth of thick blood on my skin
Then I threw it back all dented and crimson stained
And it stays under the dust of my regret
Love that dug its claws into my veins
I buried it in the dirt but it never disintegrated
It comes alive in my sleep most nights
And you might find its ashes in the alleys
But I just thought, hey maybe, if you lift the mess from this place
I can feel the sun penetrating the small spaces between these wearing bones
Sweep up the debris from the back streets in my skull
I'll lay in your bed all day and we'll work on finding a place for it all
 Feb 2013 Mike Winegar
Morgan
Blue veins and Marlboro lips.
I've got open wounds from my wrists to my hips.
And we've got some left over whiskey so we're just taking sips.
Doing everything in our power not to sink these ships.

He lowered his head toward the steering wheel
And I fell silent just to let him feel.
We watched the kids we grew up with bleed from their noses.
Disappearing with their friends' prescriptions and hanging from nooses.
But he took the deepest cut and came out swinging with the least bruises.
Those dreams of pulling a trigger under your tongue haven't made you useless.
Because the longer you stand in the dark, the brighter the sun is when it diffuses.
 Feb 2013 Mike Winegar
John
I find solace
In that thoughts are imaginary
Fever dreams
Nothing much to them
Until you act

That line that exists
Between your mind's tellings
And your mouth's doings
Is a beautiful thing
It's what I hang my hat on each day

And then there's that thing

Life
It's a weird one
An old, odd friend
Who you don't know whether to kiss
Or to lure into a back alley
Intent on cutting their belly open
To see what falls out
Hate
is an inaccurate word.
I want you to *die.
10 word poem.
Speed equals distance divided by time
So the mathematician says
On paper that may be right
Reality isn't so
For when a lovers far away
Time it moves so slow

The miles seem longer still
When you drive away from them
You drive a little faster
To try and shorten them

The faster you go the more you think
The more you think the more the burning
The miles decay the time passes by
The speed a measure only of delay
It doesn't stop your yearning

So you see on paper it works just fine
For trains and planes or cars
It doesn't seem to work though for the human heart
For love has no relativity to space and time
It's all encompassing emotions exist inside the mind
No idea where this one came from. I was eating Sunday lunch and it was playing in my head.
The cigarette butts were piling up out front
Where was that steady breeze?
So she wouldn't have to get the broom out
So, they would blow off to the trees
Way back in the corner though
One man continued to smoke inside
It was a right given to him years ago
No one ever argued, no one ever tried
The bar was smelling musty
No matter how hard she tried
The owner couldn't make it fresh
That's because all the food was fried
In the window, a brown and crumpled card
Notified the world "We're Open" now
But, outside of the old man, and the crew
No one in the outside world really knew
Visitors never came here,
they stayed away from here
The regs didn't care though
To them, it meant more beer
A college game was on TV
Two crap teams from the west
No one was really watching them
The regs liked the East the best
The carpet, full of burn marks
From cigarettes long burned out
Dropped from pursed and drunken lips
Who also no longer were about
The barkeep could tell stories
Though there was few there who hadn't heard
The stories of the past long gone
The regs knew every word
The posters drab and dreary
Selling beer from years ago
From breweries long since empty
And with tag lines nobody even knew
A poster for Black Label
and one for Jolly's brew
In the back sat a piano
Out of tune and never played
It had been out of use forever
The keys were cracked and grey
The bar itself was dying
A relic inside four walls
It was dressed in papered squalor
Like an old man with no *****
The windows showed their age
Shaking when the wind did blow
Ice was always building on them
There was more inside that in the snow
A breath of life was badly needed
The bar was really already dead
They hadn't made a dime in decades
They always ran it in the red
Today though, things would change
The door opened from the past
In walked a man of substance
Another character to the cast
He sat down on a bar stool
Ordered up, and looked around
And there standing in the corner
He saw the piano...with no sound
Asking if anybody played her
The barkeep said "No, she's long since died"
"Do you mind if I go and play her"
"It's been a while since someone tried"
He rolled it out from dark in hiding
Hit a key, and hurt his ear
Lifted the lid to look inside her
And then he ordered up another beer
He hit the keys and played a little
"Let's give this thing a whirl"
The sound it made was flat and pokey
"There's lot's of life in this old girl"
"I'll tune it up and come and play her"
"If you'd like...that is of course"
"Mr. if that's what makes you happy"
"But, I think you're beating a dead horse"
"By the way, they call me Johnny"
"Johnny Fingers if you please"
"I'll tune her up and play a while"
"I'll get her clean and bang those keys"
The barkeep offered up a contract
Tune her up and play for free
"If you're good, I'll pay you extra"
"The jury's out, we'll wait and see"
Johnny laughed and said "You got it"
"I'll play whenever you decide"
"I'll play whatever's asked for"
And he had a smile ten miles wide
The barkeep said "The venture's on then"
"Let's have a talk, and grab a seat"
"There are some things I have to tell you"
"Johnny....welcome to The Street".
A new character to The Street poems. Go back and read them if you haven't already.
I'd carry on, but where would I go?
You threw my heart out with the rest of my belongings.
It's a shame how you can look at me without sincere remorse.
But I can see you're struggling,
Struggling- to find yourself and your mind..
Though all things come to an end,
I guess it's time to say goodbye.

Thank you,
for leaving me behind.
Wrote this back in December.
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