Pub

Why cook? Why would I light a fire
when I could spend a happy hour
with people that I almost know
in comfort of a fireside glow?

I’d eat a pie and share a beer
but small mind talk is drinking here,
what poison cup makes folk forget
the basic value of respect?

Community – a chance to chew
on thorny issues old and new,
a chance to learn and to debate,
But not to bully, maim and hate.

Old fireside fears are brewed so deep
and subjugate us while we sleep,
They drink our peace and keep us mean,
Let’s open minds at opening time?

Pub

In the heart of party season, on reluctant retreat from a soul freezing evening, a pub customer skirts the herd, and is driven deep into an enclave of unsociable seats.

Head dipped, the lone sheep sips lycopene laced with tons of tobasco, and window watches a few frozen smokers, summarily excluded,  kiss fire sticks with blue lips between gastronomical delights.