The Bar Stool

Carrier of man’s problems, pervasive and persuasive

A place of peace in the midst of insanity and noise

For a breather where none exists

To wallow in life’s problems and listen to one’s own conscience

To plan and pan, to feel alive

To stare at the barman

Or at the one woman who will serve a pint without throwing a fit

The bar Stool

Raised, higher than all other seats

A place where the lone wolf can sit and wish he had friends

Where he can make new friends and pay his own bill

Some sit on it because it makes them taller

For the first time in a whole day, they feel bigger than they really are

Because hot girls seem to sit there when they are lonely

Because unlike the noise in the background

The drugs, the ruined lives, and liver cirrhosis

The gout and throat cancer

The addictions and pervasions in the background

The happiness in the midst of ruin

Unlike the riches burnt in the background

The school fees not paid and battered spouses

The abandoned families and lost jobs

The choking and yet tempting cigarette smoke

The death and despair, the dance floor

The madness that seems like hell

Where people of different world’s can meet and meat

Where deals have been made and governments brought down

Where independence has been won and history made

Where Prohibition and taxation can do no harm

Where everyone is here to enjoy and make merry

Some to make a living

Some to steal it

Some to forget the problems that life has blessed them with

To forget if only for an hour

Sacrifice for a moment of happiness they will want to enjoy on the morrow

To meet new people

Dance away life’s problems and scream like the voice box has no knob

To kiss and love away at strangers

People life would never have brought them close to

To run away from the darkness that is their lives

And yet, a different man and woman sit on the bar stool

A man who would readily give up his high sit to be on the background with friends

A woman waiting for someone, or waiting to forget another

An old man on the prowl, for women or for amnesia

A young man waiting for his meal

An old maid staring at the barman’s abs

A little high chair, staring at the pints in their bottles

Wondering whether everyone else has a story of their own

Some sit on it to run away from the madness, to ponder, stare, glare

Some sit on the bar stool, alone, because it is the only place quiet enough

Quiet enough to read the paper, noisy enough to be in on all of it.

  • Njeri

    Mimi ni member. I cant explain it but the Bar stool is a great place to find peace and tranquility.

  • uncutminds

    couldnt have read this blog at a better time. friday afternoon bar stool moments, best moment of the week

    • Its just like driving, dangerous, but necessary… 😉

  • Brenda K

    very deep…..reflective…i like!

  • Anonymous

    very deep…..reflective…i like!