Poem: The Meeting Place
I often write when I am inside a lounge or small club with tables. The atmosphere is so charged that it becomes inspiring. This is what I came up with on Friday night at The Meeting Place here in DC. The Meeting Place Men…traveling alone Un-attached Attached to many Too many to count So many strokes that His tip lost count Creeping... Seeping into A state of less than Possibility of love Condemned No deliverance in sight Citing authorship of promise keepers Remembrance of lustful emptiness Joined by lies accompanied with afternoon brunch Menu: Doubles and Salt-Fish Beverage: Ting The sweet, pungent smell of meaningless sex Meaning less than salvation or Greater than pleasure Meanwhile, life is still in motion While his brain cells soak in a glass of Vodka splashed with cranberry