A Yoga Bartender Review

Before this dream,

     Mastering my profession through discipline must happen, thus a review about bartending and alcohol intake with pace: Mixology EU

I agree,

This humbly poetic ancient fool didn’t start bartending till he was 30, having been in hospitality since graduating uni, I must say that this is my career! At least until my inept social poetic commentary voice is acknowledged.

Crafting an excellent drink for someone is fantastic, I adore the tact of reading the potential client as they approach the bar, even before they engage, I’m engaged. Will they want some banter or will they desire some peace and quite as they genuinely sip an amalgamation of mixology that is their very favourite cocktail, only a frown or smile will tell.

Every day I do at least 30 minutes of yoga before and after my very long double shift of 12+ hours is over, then and only then, at the late to wee early hours of the morning do I chance a sip at my awkwardly favourite whiskey on the rocks before heading off to join my partner whose been past out for several hours.

For me, it’s all about the long sore every appendage aches game, but that’s mostly because the bar I’m at now is a restaurant service bar with cocktails, which I, as the bartender, have to solo… Which includes polishing all my own glass, hosting, running food, some Sommelier tasking at tables as well. I shan’t ever complain because the hard work has taught me to love and respect my chosen career and the practitioners who take the effort to craft skill under a guise of discipline and many many late nights!

So whatever bar you work behind, enjoy and always remember to stretch your mind and flex your body!

In earnest anticipation of,
Juton
The Yoga Bartender
Algorithymns Poet

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A Black Man's Opium Noose

From a Friend: 

Spoken Word By Opium

Waking to unsink the ship

To a slave hell we bid fair thee

The sparks of brimstone well

For in hell prejudice dwells

On sulphur oxygen!

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A Winter Sonnet

Live as a recital, 

Trapped in the shadows of December's sad amnesty song, An ode to joy! Written by the trinity concepts of fall, Months that stream malignant tears like the fading stars from the sky, Voting to bypass the bitter demise of sandcastle earth's season of dark emotion terrors contrived as demons conspire under shade of night, Proposing a vile hope toast to a forever twilight!

In earnest anticipation of,

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Poetry Isn't Just...

In union

Yet opposition

To yesterday's speech

By Sam Small

Matt Gilligan version

The parallel between how you say... 

Anything at all...
And what you say.

Whilst we,

     Can take voice coaching and acting lessons, 

who we are behind the projection doesn't wholly change,

 so what is your message?

Are you driven by conviction?

A built in white over world black moral,

Hand me nature down code of ethics?

Or

Do you simply desire...

A formidable viral status,

An achievement to adorn your mantle,

For the benefit of an insecure confidence,

Why attend the last day on earth ceremony...?

See just how big a part you couldn't have played,

If you'd lived the change the world needed,

Stopped playing at belief,

Instead...

Striving to achieve it,

In every moment,

You're livin' in!

So are there any differences,

Between the sponsored,

A Treasured Ted Talk,

And a Bedroom Poets,

Spoken words...

Spot the depths if you dare!

Between speaking to be heard

And

Speaking because the conviction inside,

Mangles your compassion empathetic imagination engine,

Pacified by... Possibly, a willingly adopted conscious sedation inside.

Create like you speak, for a reason...

Beyond achievement or reward

In earnest anticipation of,

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How to be: Articulate...

Jamila Lyiscott

A Ted Spoken Three Languages Word

Poetry that moves on behalf of...

The future of those attempting

To be articulate

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How to... Speak Truer

Julian Treasure

A Ted Talk on Speaking

Tomorrow's Poem

Poetry Isn't Just...
With Scottish Poet
Sam Small

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Loop Reviewed Poetry Theatre GOMA Take II

Part two of a Loop Theatre Performance at the GOMA review, this one written at home.

Beautifully witnessed,

     Contemporary living unshakeable dreams, too oft left single lonely stage of attention out, Beyond the mountains of stigma, portraying them as mere beautiful insecurity mannequins... Our sight is the disguise, of magnificent change your perception and heart lives.

     As if artistic wish capacity was docile, but it never was... Painting extravagant lip blossoms of budding smiles, forever blooming as happy memories, A new forever recollection portrait of hope, never to be forgotten,  Amidst the ache of our prolific social aptitude sight blemish diagnosis held over others, A test everyone's conscious heart of conviction should refuse to accept.

    Beheld in a magnificent gallery, hall of  acceptance's equality summer after the reign of a bitter December recital, how tangibly organic and beautiful is the heart's choreographed epidermis counterpart locomotion of a memory loop theatre's conscious marionettes, providing more than physical movement!

     If any eyes who witnessed had a heart, surely it  moved!

In earnest anticipation of,

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