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a hallway. offices. tinted sunlight. people who have forgotten my name. but i am here. and then a room. and a meeting. and i am unprepared. "you're up" says the leader. and my lungs fill with heaviness as they all turn towards me. my mind screams. my throat locks. and then a word fights through the scream. and i breathe. and find a voice. and then another word. and a thought. then relevance. i am moving. and eyes do not wander. but the scream fights on: they will find out. i was connected at one time. so the scream would fade. but not now. these many years later. "we could use you again," he had said. and i had relented. but why? boredom? faith? the scream of fear vs. the scream of isolation? or a familiar voice dragging me back from madness. "what have you been up to?" he had asked. and i had lied. and now my mind all scrambled between work and stupor. "what on EARTH are you talking about?!" demands the one who should have taken over for me. and the throat locks again. and the scream rises up. and he knows it. but sympathy has no place here. so i struggle with the scream. and find the words to hide the Fraud as he shakes his head in disgust. and i remember why i left. so i wade in the scream until i am done and take my seat. and the scream that never dies whispers, "what else is there?"
Help me smother this irritation ~ with lines and punctuations ~ Feed me pronouns ~ to drown incompetent sounds ~ Nouns to block inevitable frowns ~ verbs to calm nerves ~ Synonyms to perpetuate and penetrate minds ~ antonyms to reiterate in rhyme~ Give me a vocabulary of words to express my perturb ~ why must people be so absurd Lay
Another fresh year is here, I would love to banish from my life, worry doubt & fear. I would like to be joyous, true and live life each moment with zest, and give the people around me nothing but the best. I would love to talk, communicate and break mental barriers that are creations, and work hard towards mending broken relations. I would love to tell my wife to give me all her tears and fear, and take from me all my love the loving words she likes from me to hear. I would love to make an effort to be a good friend, to my elder daughter and put all petty misunderstandings to an end. I would love to stop to the people in contact ,the shoving, and spend more time in loving. I would love to stop being disadvantageous and outrageous, and speak only the truth and for that be courageous. I would love to fight my emotions all unfriendly, and cover them all with feelings that are friendly. I would love to learn to be sensitive, and towards others be open and receptive. I would love to practice not to crib about all the things life has not given me, and be greatful for the great things around me I have an opportunity to feel and see. I would love to learn to be content about all I have received, and focus now on giving and helping those, whom life has deceived. I would love to pray for world peace and plant more trees, and work to help out for carbon emission decrease. I would love to learn to be unforgiving, and be more tolerant and caring. I would love to right some of my wrongs, and be true to myself and hum joyous songs. Finally, I would love to learn to be humble and full of gratitude, and to do so spend some precious moments of my day reflecting in solitude.
Reasonings Too few Hopefully more My resentment flairs My will ebbs Still looking elsewhere I won't just leave I care too much My heart is here Have more to give Want answers to my whys Know I'll never truly know Doors of opportunity may open But I still hold hope Knowing this is my calling
I will not be late to work today I will get there on time I will brush my teeth Without singing songs Without thinking about birthdays About gymnasiums About TAKS About sound About war Republicans Democrats Independents I will get there on time I will eat my oatmeal Without thinking of Broken valentines Strewn against a wooden Fence Like dropped goblets From a robbers pillowcase I will be there before the bell rings My papers will be checked My hair will be combed My mind will be alert Ready to begin my lesson I will not wonder why My oldest son doesn't have a job I will not pray too long For my daughter who is taking the bar today At 10:30 AM in New Orleans I will not scar my knees wishing For some alternate world Where children are never neglected Or hurt Where there is no abandonment What nonsense to try and order the world Just get to work on time Put your things in the car, your projector and The white binders that you didn't look at All weekend although you were supposed to check the papers and put the grades on the computer I will leave now Before it is impossible to Be on time I will cream my ashy ankles I will not focus on the white Cat on the black pillow With the green eyes I will not water the plant I will not watch TV I will not write poetry Before work I will not write poetry Before work I will get to work on time I will be ready I will not be daydreaming about fog Wondering if I'll get Alzheimer's like my mother Or colon cancer like my dad I won't be thinking about that stuff I will be locking the front door and Closing the gate and clicking the clicker And starting the car and leaving I will not be in my living room Wondering if there is any reason to love Because I do not love for reason I love because He first loved me It is not incantations or intoxication Or imagination it is my life and The structure will come with the Clearness of Bajan water So clear you can see the fish Fly float across the Atlantic It is time This poem must end I will not be late for work This morning Not for nothing Not for nobody Not for anything Not for everything This poem is over the work day begins
Part 1 Onion the delicacy of friendship I found you in the flowers Standing tall we become one Looking down from gangly towers Squash, you burn, you pillage, son. Follow me you say in tongues Thy shallow mind reveal me tell Whisper lies clean load the guns I feel the burn I rot in hell Friend folly menacing the liar I loathe this coffin how it leaks Dear foe you raped me set on fire The onion peal itself and weeps Part 2 Traitor dear monkey boy Older eyes eat themselves, glance and kill the other Unified in the dance, they steer the musty rudder. Pained and sweeter deeper wells, poised buckets drunk with water. Singled out the one that dried, handed weights to pull him under. Wiser times capture the mind, death justifies dishonor. Knife slice neat through the devil's back, who stares blank and milks the udder. Part 3 Tempest patron saint Inside this box Goodbye tempestuous fall My puppet of steel coiled thread Smashed buttons and twisted dread, Alarm these doors, and Escape this delusive bunker bed Stamp the spiders Thief, vulture of the deflection The mocking patron of the sinners Erase this affliction Relating inward at the reflection Rise you fool Part 4 Phoenix i love you close the grip cinched hematic grip drenched, clawing seeking the sheave becoming the counterweight i absorb, now extracting the heat rise like a phoenix away to be gone to be free fix me! i have fixed me i am alive and i love you Part 5 Aye, Damager Abolish her state of disrepair Scattered, spattered drippy thoughts All around this box of soused leaves Soak, ferment in the faith of our love I can't fix this, you know I loathe this misunderstanding Of what I am speaking, projecting To me, Aye Damager, to you This devil in me turned and twisted A wrecked elevator in rejection Years locked painfully aware ...
At gray fabric offices, cubicles divide us— turn us into refuges with mock privacy, as overheard conversations drip from lips endlessly smacking. Sometimes it seems insanity squared— nothingness randomly speaking in tongues to cubicles with no one there. We thumb tack individuality loosely to coarse fabrics— arms stretched out from wall to wall, as mouths open to mirrored silences we never scream.
The Color Missing Red, black, and blue are the colors of our work pens. Red is the color of the blood we spill on other people's mistakes. Blue is the color of the songs we sing on tax forms or pay stubs- every page has a secret melody. Black is the color of the streets we fear most. Black is the color of our signature of approval. Black is the color of our death. 'But what about the Green pens?' I ask. They say 'the ink is too hard to see.'
Sometimes I admire the littlest things A simple rock. A blade of grass. They need no future goals, no tax exemptions They don't need to go anywhere or be anything They just are. Sometimes, especially when I'm reading life insurance policies, I envy the rocks and the grass And try to be like them for a moment. I sit perfectly still and give myself to the wind- And it whispers in my ear: Just be. And for that moment I don't need to go anywhere or be anything. And at the snap of my fingers, All the complex widgets and gizmos that make up my life Fold into paper airplanes and fly off in the wind. Jacob Reinhardt 10/07/13
in grade school he heard about it in high school he prepared for it in his first year he explored it in his second year he focused on it in his third year he felt part of it in his fourth year he graduated from it Now, he has a job because of it.
P aranoia permeates, etching itself into your fractured face, A cacophony of constant pressure; life remains a stressful race, N othing to hope for, no positives like promotion in the workplace, I nability to love, relationships lift anchor and set sail without chase, C hildren crushing dreams under mortgages; age grows with disgrace !!
You'll never guess whom the cat drug in; have a day where you just couldn't win? He came strutting in, smacking his gum loud, dressed to the nines Goth Punk style. Tats trailed down his left arm, with my notice, he said, saving up for the other arm. When ask about drugs, his answer to me was: "Yes, I'll share" most invitingly… Metal adornments on ears, nose, and lips, didn't want to know, the all of it, at this. As I noticed, he smiled most cattily, asking: 'Want to see where else they might be?' Hair a Mohawk with a trail down his back, colors of the rainbow, left nothing to lack. Steel studs on a black leather butt, said, 'Bite Me!' with each and every staged strut. What are you kidding?… Do my eyes me deceive, or did he just make a pass, at ME? No Way! I'd rather drop kick him from my office fast, didn't he have any real class? The application, a Sales Manager Job. Who would try to send me over the deep end? Bet it had been a practical joke, beginning to end, so I simply held on, my friend. He must've read my face, forhe smirked, I continued to ask for his list of experience. His experience was none, but he said he managed his I-tune collection, very well. Of course, he was the Leader of his 'Chat Room'. I wondered, 'Who could tell?' GEE! Also an impressive set up on his Facebook page, for his innumerable video games. I ask how he was qualified for ANY job? Said, Dad 'THE CEO' wanted him employed. I verified this with a call, was told not to be too Harsh, he had Potential, after all... Ask what job he wanted to give his son? 'Let him chose himself', came the real clue! Ask him, what job he really wanted to do, 'VP in charge of Recreation' was imbued. Said he'd check out all the great places, in his Dad's fancy Porche. Honestly True! I kid you not! And he wanted his girlfriend, made into his secretary, Yah! No Doubt! Believe it or not, he got all he thought he was due. All approved by the CEO's! True! Just when I thought things couldn't get any better… I began to really reconsider… Really, who had been clueless… It hadn't been him!… Which left me in a dither… Knowing I just couldn't win! I'd be glad when this day was finally, truly, done… The kid had probably thought this a great joke on me from beginning to the end! My perfect job, had just come undone! Apparently, being in HR isn't always fun! My college degree, that took so much sacrifice, no longer sparkled, so much to me. Boy did I now WISH, I was a CEO's SON! As I simply got all the paper work done. Later, I saw the family portrait on the CEO's desk. Lucky me! One down!… Only eight more to go! Carol Eastman and Hubby
The Noose is tightening. The 5's and 10's yanked from our hands and aching backs Are spent on band-aids: A last stand effort to plug the holes in our hearts When the price of drowning is only getting higher So we turn to tiny acts of thievery Taxes prettied up, cashiers uncorrected, Stealing at the edges because we're backed into corners, Corners Glittering with promises corners Dripping with possibility, With Island resort wallpaper Sold in bulk at Wal-Mart for Profit: A trail of crumbs called America- Which has curdled our souls and we love it! And hate it and gossip about it and think obsessively about it and then We find the most expensive friends our looks can afford, Shopping for substance (50% off) Staring through the eye of a screen Light speed in pursuit of heaven on earth (Ignore the plastic)- Until pop! We die of ADHD. Never having had the chance to smell the genetically modified roses. Never having had the chance to see through this kingdom of ideas As we served out our sentence to life in cubicle. Jacob Reinhardt 10/24/2013
I Don't Care... I don't care, if you're battered black and blue, I don't care, just as long as I can drink and screw. I don't care, if you've lost your damn job, I don't care, you're just a kernel off the cob. I don't care, when I see you begging in the street, I don't care, I get to suckle on capitalism's raw teat. I don't care, about the elderly, the poor, or the weak, I don't care, if the earth will be inherited by the meek. I don't care, if the climate is warming, I'm so much cooler, I don't care, in my penthouse I'm the boss, the only ruler. I don't care, for those rolling for scraps in the muck, I don't care, I really don't care, cos' I don't give a f**k inspired by Bob Geldof's "The Great Song of Indifference"
You wish to possess me I am the embodiment of your dreams Yet I remain elusive I tease you I allow you to hold me but not for long The smell of me intoxicates you You work night and day and still I am not yours I am promised to another Others are living their dreams Why are you left in poverty? You are told I can not bring health or happiness. It feels like a lie. Wait for me I will fill your pockets one day Honest work does pay If you have patience I will not run away Do not sacrifice to much in the pursuit of me You need less of me than you imagine I am but one gift that you will receive. First attempt at personification, hopefully I got it right.
How often do you visit the Library? And what do you see? I see oceans and seas of books plus a homeless man doing zzz's.. He'd apparently been reading before, he fell deep asleep. He can stay there, they say, as long as he doesn't lie down to sleep. Sitting up is OK and of course, as long as he doesn't create a scene. He's kind and gracious and a little strange but can debate any role When he walked over, we had a talk about the devil verses mind control. Without asking, what he really wanted was someone to buy him lunch. There's a McDonalds two doors down from where we were bunched. I don't know what I expected when he woke up and looked around. But when I asked if he was homeless he wasn't fazed at all. Yes, I have been for a while, he said, but my boat will soon come in. And I realized the library is a warm, safe place to relax and to be. And the librarians seem content to just let him be. In the end, I was sorry I couldn't buy him that lunch. But recently, my abilities to do so had become a little stretched. I used to buy the books I read… now the library is more my taste. I just hope if it comes to that… he'll graciously share this place. The library even has computers from where you could write. And the people there are varied and really rather kind. I'm on the edge but whole family's once prosperous are already there. Cheap hotel rooms in even cheaper hotels, once skirted are full. The jobs don't pay for anything more. They are: Bitter, Disgruntled, Lost. Needed are better and more jobs to re-establish the American Dream. To give them some hope so they can go back there again… And don't just act toward them… like they're your library man… Give them back their American Dream as best you can. Voice of Reason Contest
Las mujeres que cruzan el rio cada dia forman una linea larga para la migra. Muestran sus permisos -- tarjetas locales -- y vacian los contenidos de sus bolsas. Cuando las preguntan sus destinos, contestan con las frases que han ensayado: quiero comprar pollo en especial, o desea mi hijo zapatos tenis de Wal-Mart -- mientras sus patronas del dia acechan, a prudente distancia, en sus camionetas guayin, con los motores en marcha. Estan fumando impacientemente. Otro Winston? (For translation, see "About This Poem")
"Are you Quill?," She asked abeam. "Yes, of course! - mostly - when the Muselle` visits oft'n'r upon, as my wont! "Well, here!, this will surely help at the Magic... And IT, Voila!, was in hand, a thrust-unmistakable! Blunt, bulbous & sleek, a slick Recife, this Turquoise and Silver stick. Is IT "Blue?" Is IT "Black?" Pray, "Blue-Black!?" Wow! - A Sole instrument for Playing in the Indigene, Soul Colors of the Earth! - I nearly crack to Self. Swirled-embedded, b'neath the haute Baekelight-Crystal like a LavaLamp-Entemp. IT's messages of ambidexsrait- Threads, Mola thru splayed fingers. O' Charitable Mage You have brought to Life!... I Write Handcrafted! H.e.m. 5.1.MMvii. Solus
Into the groove of unthinking action, file after file of manikins pack in -- beings above see the circular groove peopled with puppets, all on the move. Deeper yet they wear the groove down; manikins' footfalls forever resound. Of "outside", they now all think no more, their eyes forever fixed on the floor. Mechanical movement is all they can know; movement defines all the life that they show. The speeds of the dummies vary a bit as they wear down the floor of the pit.
Wagari Maathai, Boldness,eagerness,harmless Was for a benefit, Through melancholy, You paved in, To nail down the, Green glamor. You turned into waterworks, When the cut down Was on process. Jubilant than ever when germination flourished. Likes tots You looked after, To see none but their growth, The nourishment you fought for, Regardless of the circumstances. Down to your end, Still showed your solicitude that the woes came directly from your heart. Weeps, for our well being, wails, to ensure we received raindrops. Confidently you battled, To ensure no dry day approached. Your deeds reached accross generation, A total mother of nature, A legend never to be forgotten. We will live to remember Your wonderful work.ag
A day in the country I went to the country To see my Bro's Land I saw he had worked hard His land looked so grand For a second this envy It tapped on my soul But then I looked deeper Saw things as a whole! I looked at his features All the lines on his face Not character lines Those lines that add grace Just sad saggy lines From worry and stress There was naught in his manner That read happiness. I'm a loser to his type I have no ambition I live for today He lives for his mission But I have a smile And a generous heart While he, how I see him Is a grumpy old fart. 10 August 2013 @ 1700hrs
The Nameless Slipping through the sieve of history, the nameless rest. Not for the nameless are roads renamed, nor monuments built. Not for the nameless are songs sung, nor ink spilled. The nameless rest. Their silent sacrifice, quiet ordeal, muted trauma, remain interred, amongst their remains. The nameless rest. Not for the nameless are doctorates conferred, nor eulogies recited. Not for the nameless are honours bestowed, nor homages directed. The nameless rest. They rest within us, they walk with us, in every step that we tread. They rest within us, they walk with us, for their spirit is not dead. "Your name is unknown, your deed is immortal" - inscription at The Tomb of the Unknown Soldier WWII in Moscow Special thanks to my dearest elder sister Tasneem Nobandla Moolla, whose conversations with me about life as a non-white person growing up in pre and post-Apartheid South Africa prompted me to write this dedication to the countless, nameless South Africans of every colour, whose sacrifices and dedication in the struggle against Apartheid tyranny must never be forgotten. My sister's middle name 'Nobandla' which is an isiXhosa name and means "she who is of the people" was given by her godfather, Nelson Mandela, my father's 'best-man who could not be, as Nelson Mandela was unable to-make it to my parent's wedding as he was in jail at the time in the old Johannesburg Fort. This was the 31st December 1961.
A day's of hard work, and serious issues to handle, though some hiccups may arise, in order to erase these hiccups, we need to have some fun, and laughter is only the best medicine, to cure on these hiccups hands on, for this, we may not travel afar, just take a look at Indian politics, quite laughable as it is, wherein a number of issues, had come to the forefront, mostly related to the cap on cylinders, and the FDI in retail, wherein a number of politicians, cast a number of political ambitions, of becoming the National leader of our Motherland, but have no concern for the citizens, living in here, wherein the bridge between the poor and the rich, gets wider and wider, it is not the pursuit of political ambitions, which the citizens want in here, it is the solutions to various problems, which they want, and as such there is no politician, as fit enough for this purpose, are they really fit enough, is the question and as laughable as it is, it is time for the younger generations, to take the plunge into politics, wherein they need to cast over their fear, and political apprehensions, and save their dear Motherland India, from all troubles, and to make their Motherland into a Paradise!!
(Gail's note: This is the sequel to the Email to Subby Conscience poem.) To: firstname.lastname@example.com From: Subby Conscience Re: Communication between You and Me Date: February 14, 2012 While I sneak and scheme in your chaotic REM I am doing nothing more than being a friend. Those dream-swirls and 'mare-tugs purge your mind's eye so that your psyche can grow and won't suddenly die. While you're gripping tightly to antique feelings that won't budge I'm prying them out; giving them a strong nudge. And as you grudgingly work through a feeling or two I am working my hardest to make you feel what is true. I even may help you work out a solution or two Because during the day you are too busy to. Who else provides perks that allow you to be both young and old in the very same dream? So tell me dear, and answer me this. What would you do if many nights I missed And was sneaking around in another soul's REM What would your sanity be like then? Without my help to work out thoughts That keep you quite sane… Would you then turn around And try to cast blame? Saying Subby's absence caused you to act like a drip? Saying Subby's absence caused your tongue to Freudian slip? Instead your mind can skyrocket and cozily soar After I recede in the A.M. and work behind your mind's door.
I hear everything all too well my weary body has no place to dwell so much is told about me I often wonder what is left is it not enough to mock me in the town square do we need to gossip with family I never truly had another tear I shed, but no one truly cares I am the almighty beautiful Red in thought and none of the world I live knows me or my past what doesn't work for them they invent or add she will forgive us all they reassure Oh Dear God make me a bird, I wish to fly away but the hens all laid for the day, the hay needs to be tossed, and who will milk the cow, so the woman, Red that lives out sin stays to work this farm again Often she becomes overwhelmed by it all but not me it is my destiny in my land of fantasy and made up things how I wish I could be like she I am the scandalous one I protect all those I love, at any cost but I will never be good enough I met a man once but he has traveled on he talks of things I seem to do, but it is not my truth he pays me back in silent death I gave up everything to let him live yet it was not quite enough you see he needed my family, friends, and destiny yeah, I met a man who claimed he knew me in my land of lies and make believe but Red she is strong and always says please she is the beautiful one ever-so loving and doesn't need things such as love she has too much to do her skin is not soft yet rough and she is tougher than I will ever be I just want to fly away each day to some land I created I live in beautiful dreams in fields of wheat I long to be where I saw my children last but to Red they are forever gone passed on to seed yeah that makes my world of fantasy with made up monsters so much better ask Red she will know I am weak yet she is so strong youtube com /watch?v=N3sUpbmBYyM Gossip in the Grain inspiration Will edit later Just being silly
It wasn't so long ago, that my new wife and I had to find a place to live which we could call "Home". We found an ideal place on the northwest side of our city, easy transportation, good neighbors, and plenty of room. When we decided to take the place, we knew it would be the bright, airy, comfortable, and loving home we wanted to make for ourselves. Of course, there was work to be done before we could move in. Painting, carpets, and choice of furniture would occupy us for many weeks. I don't know if every newlywed couple is as happy as we were. Our love was enhanced by the work on that apartment, turning its rooms from bare walls and floors into livable spaces where we could be alone with each other. We would even have friends or relatives over - it made no difference in our relationship...it was home. Every relationship has its share of woes, and that apartment became a solitary point in our lives. My idea of a career did not jive with my wife's, as she so often pointed out. I don't believe it was the career, but the fact that I was trying to be someone I wasn't, work with a company that I did not really know, and do something that was inherently destructive to our marriage. I wanted to prove to her that she could be proud of me by providing for her the riches I felt she deserved. My quest for the golden ring only tarnished the ones we wore on our hands. I was just too naive to think that I was wrong. I should have taken a step back and trusted the partner to whom I had pledged my love. By the time I came to my senses, it was too late. I had driven her away by my callousness. Now, as I stand in this empty apartment, only the memories remain. The laughter of that first dinner alone...her face in the candlelight, yet I see it only in the darkened corner of the room. There were the nights of love and affection in the bedroom...now only shadows of the sweet passions left in the wake of her despair at my leaving her alone to face the mornings. Our living area was our pride and joy with the furniture we had so carefully chosen, the carpet of jade green, and the love seat where we watched our favorite programs...now, just a window to the soul mate I should have been. The apartment stands empty again, waiting for another young couple to make it their own. It was ours for a while, but now belongs only to that place in my mind where I hide my personal treasures. I loved her then...I love her still. Home no longer, but in my memory.
-------- Do You find your-self With-out a ladder And just don't know What to do? ------ Try the "Law Of Reciprocity" Fore only good thing's come Back to You! ------ Plant your-self a Seed And then You shall Have a Tree... ------ Just give it a little time And soon you will have three... ------ Then You shall be able To climb... For the very first time... Poet Author Gary Fields
The Petty Posh-Wahzee - Liberation & Ostentation The Not-So Distant Past: The fallen fighters for freedom, are unable to turn in their graves, their battered, fragmented bones, mixed with a handful of torn rags, are all that remain, a mute reminder of their selfless valiant sacrifice. They endured brutal Apartheid harassment, detentions without trial, torture in the cells, and mental anguish when loved ones disappeared, they left their homeland, to continue the struggle against racial bigotry, while countless others fought the scourge of white-minority rule at home. Nelson Mandela and many, many others, spent their lives imprisoned, on islands of stone, and on islands of the cruellest torture, yet they stood, never bowing, never scraping, they stood, firm for ideals for which they were prepared to die, and many, many comrades did die, at the hands of the callous oppressor, and many, many comrades perished in distant lands, torn from their homes, while the struggle continued, for decades, soaked in blood, in tears, in pain. The Present: 19 years have passed, since freedom was secured at the highest of prices, delivering unto us, this present, a gift of emancipation from servitude, a freedom to walk this land, head held high, no longer second-class citizens, in the land of our ancestors, whose voices we hear and need to heed today. I do not care much for fashion, Lewis-Fit-On and Sleeves unSt.-Moron, yet the ostentation that I witness baffles even my unsophisticated palate, our ancestors' plaintive whispers are being dismissed, left unheeded, as we browse the aisles for more and more, always for more and yet more. Asphyxiated by the excess of the Petty Posh-Wahzee, we find ourselves, perched precariously on the edge, of a dissolution of all that is humane, babies go hungry, wives are battered, our elders left in hospitals for hours, I cringe as I scribble these words, perhaps too sanctimonious and preachy, yet I know, deep in the marrow of my brittle bones, I know, I know, I know, this tree of freedom planted by the nameless daughters and sons of Africa, needs to be shielded, nurtured, protected from our very own baser impulses, so that the precious tree of freedom, may bear the fruit that may feed us all, for if not, then we are doomed, to tip over, and into the yawning abyss, we shall fall.
The day I met the airplane face to face Just going out to work awhile that day Never knew I could be meeting death's race Working for Census Bureau_month of May Just going out to work awhile that day Client list in hand maps to draw that's grand Working for Census Bureau__month of May Lovely drive early spring __last stand Client list in hand maps to draw that's grand Never thought that this could be last journey Lovely drive early spring blooms__last stand? Didn't know God had my life in hand_not on gurney Never thought that this could be last journey But when that airplane I met on a curve Didn't know God had my life in hand_not on gurney Pilot out window motion_already swerve But when that airplane I met on a curve Never knew that I could be meeting death's race Pilot out window motion_already swerve The day I met the airplane face to face...
A little boy and an ant became great friends one day. But how to live drew them apart, and this is how they ran astray: In the Ant's heart was strict authority and constant work each day. Why wasn't the boy following someone, collecting for the food array? The ant would always build everything in exactly the same proven way. The anthill was underground and protected them perfectly every day. Not adding to the hive was a crime, no one would ever think to display. He knew every thing would be perfect, if everyone did their job and obeyed. But the boy wanted to build bridges and trestles, just like his Dad, each day. All of them out in the open, none of them under ground or hidden away. And inventiveness came with the notice, of new and exciting things in daily play. His life was really cool, not boring, as standing in a line would convey. He'd invent, and ponder, and build in exciting, new ways, to fit each new byway. Quick minded, and resilient he'd build, many fascinating and unique causeways. The boy and the ant eventually went away, not happy with how the other lived. They thought the other shortsighted and scorned, at what the other could give. But they went away without realizing, how very similar were their lives. For each would spend their time endeavoring to help others with their drive. But understanding is a harder concept than building a bridge or storing food. It takes a true gift to see the world as others do… The moral to this story is really quite easy for all to see… You can't expect others to live their lives the way you want them to be. Here, each was adding to their different world, only they could see. While one was building for a smaller, singular hive… The other was building for the hive of mankind.
Tons more I wish to do, Much more I want to do, Before I am laid on the pyre facing the sky deep blue, Much more I wish to do………. I want to scale scary heights, I want to bungee jump without any fright. I want to travel rough terrains on bikes, I want to make it through forests and go on long hikes. I want to wander singing songs, I want to sing about how I mended my wrongs. I want to be creative again , I want to write about my joys thrills and pain. I want to pour my heart and passion in my works, I want to write verses & haikus without reactions knee jerks. I want to take many a calculated risks, I want to learn from the entire process without shortcuts or fancy tricks. I want to contribute for a good cause, I want to give without siphoning material or emotional dross. I want to untangle messed up issues, I want to wipe off tears with empathy laced tissues. I want to work on taboo subjects, I want to solve regression of y on x. I want to listen to my music loud, I want to pen my work in a place far from the madding crowd. I want to sow seeds and many a plant, I want to bask in sun rays that into my room slant. I want to drench in the rains, I want to make paper boats and sail them in the drains. I want to pick up from the ground and smell fresh wet earth, And then joyously have my speech filled with mirth. I want to boldly write about myself only for me, I want the world to know me & my mind as they will always see. I want to meet often the persons, who mean a lot to me, I want to be able to emote my passions and feelings of love and glee. I want to be happy about just any small thing, And all this I want to do before the last breath to my nostrils I bring. Facing the blue skies on my funeral pyre, I want to be on the best craft my soul can hire…. All this I want to do very soon, Before sets into me dreaded gloom. But the life I live is taking its toll, I am yet to get out of this oblivious hole. Time is just right to set aside, And take a ride Fulfill my wants and dreams that I nurtured in me to grow, And I had put away sheathed in a cocoon of time many years ago. Now I don't want a moment long, And I will do what I want and sing my own song, And do what in me I let grow, Many, many years ago. by: Sashi.Prabhu
Think you've got the workplace blues No matter what work you do These words will hopefully inspire you Yes, your job may be redundant But the paychecks are abundant Some days you will get off track But the next day know your plan of attack Bring a smile and get it back If your productivity is ever low Learn from the experience and continue to grow Remember, "You reap what you sow" Keeping a positive attitude can sometimes be rough Remembering your mission and purpose is often enough Embrace what's in your control and let go of the small stuff There's no need to be discouraged Each day someone's dreams you encourage As cliché' as it may seem You are the gateway to many dreams Recognize the value in what that means No need for the Workplace Blues Instead, work on the attitude you choose Think of the many lives enriched by you Lay
I have my Hubby's steadfast belief in me. He loves how my poems are light and airy. He'll give me an idea once in a while… Then he escapes to come back, later to read my new child. He calls these run-throughs a squirrel run. For they can take off in directions, yes, any one. Crazy thoughts become crazier still… And story time leads to god knows, where they will. My thinking is kind of like chasing around a tree. You never know where the end will be. But somewhere I eventually become truly still. And that is where my Hubby adds into the trill. Then the squirrel run begins again… Light and fluffy and full to the brim. Each day a new adventure... waits around the bend. Live it. Love it. Write it... You'll be happier in the end. Contest: Emotion: Squirrelly and fun CSEastman
Clocks in the house were all but removed I chose utter quietude over malicious ticks and tocks. Adhering to schedules was reliant on the angles of the sun, and the sandy family hourglass artifact sitting by the side of me at my station, every hour on the hour reminding, and I myself being ready to flip. This was how not to live as a farmer and still be a slave to the working of grains. The sanctity of my spinning room was also my prison for forty hours every week, and a third of my adult life. Pressing down on the pedal below to see the top half rotate and as my world turns I sometimes get approached. With significant fibers, their casual orders are mine for marching, working that spindle to the satisfaction of the customer, as was every occasion but my last one, the best one, the only one that I'll remember as special, delivering my soul from boredom. My only daughter, sweet thing, no siblings to rival with unless a naked, well tattered doll counts. She took it on adventures to the moon while I couldn't see my child, my savior expanding horizons. It was silly not to see her blowing about carefree as the wind that day without concerns over food and shelter all she desired was the deepest one of all. She was sleeping on desires with every chance to dream for her best friend a modest cape for him to fly. Deep inside I knew her spirits and that doll would ride the same breeze but I had to say no for the silk was not mine. The customer was always right until the next day when I stepped out to the corner store for the bite of a sour apple, returning to an open door the hourglass was broken and my spindle bare. The world had stopped spinning, time had stopped existing… so long comfortable rut. Mortified for a brevity, just when I thought worlds couldn't change, mine had with the crashing of an antique. The glass littered beach on the floor was proof of that. The spindle was stripped of its importance and all of a sudden it hit me fast, so fast I smiled. My daughter was no devil and yet she was the culprit stealing my heart before and a cape now but it was okay, just this once, to have a family legacy mocked for the prosperity of a child's imagination. Seeing them fly in the backyard I dripped gentle waves from tear ducts upon that glass scattered beach secretly grateful, values in my life were restored.
I've seen a picture of a book caught in a flood from the past and marveled at what the view revealed to me, the reader The book, arced and curved to its center, like a ship's bow darkened with abandonment, and white crystals grown from pages' edge Words crystalized from every line written, touchable thoughts crystallization of the author's soul the original, unreadable, unknown The wish to witness at pad and pen as soul pours ink to paper page tonguing salty thoughts may be what imprinted from the writer to me © Goode Guy 2012-03-03 http://www.smithsonianmag.com/multimedia/photos/139705383.html
The rider accepts the horse and the horse accepts the man. No man rides a horse… It's a dance in poise and symmetry as one. Thump, Thump…Thump, Thump The power is felt in the movement as the horse stretches out its gate. The muscles move beneath the man with power waiting to escape. Thump, Thump…Thump, Thump The fluidity of the gate is matched by the fluidity of the man. The nostrils flair in both… The dance has just begun… Thump, Thump…Thump, Thump If they do not work together… They will not work at all. The horses' mane like the mans' hair, is held tight in the flowing wind. Thump, Thump…Thump, Thump With each step they take… A balance must be struck. For every step they take… Their intent must be as one. Thump, Thump…Thump, Thump The spirit of the horse must merge with the spirit of the man. Together they merge in a symbiotic relationship as old as horse and man. Thump, Thump…Thump, Thump Feel the movement… Feel the power… Feel each muscle as it moves. Feel each breeze unfold… Feel their hearts and souls as they meld as one. Thump, Thump…Thump, Thump Point to counter point… The man doesn't own the horse or the horse the man. What looks so easy is not a simple thing as they travel forth as one. Thump, Thump…Thump, Thump The connection is tightly woven. This spirit of Horse and man. Thump, Thump…Thump, Thump And with each ride together they will meld again as one… Thump, Thump…Thump, Thump
Written on 7th may 2012 The three of us, I don't recall the time, when we first met I shared all secrets of mine. One of them I realized began to befriend me about an eon ago, the other one I recall was with me since puberty, constantly seeking a glow. The three of us made a pact for me to move on but now it is only me and the two of them gone………….. One was the inner me and the other was the man in my mirror I envied to be. But now it is three woven into one and it is the new me. As we draw our pact now and here Would love to banish from my life, worry doubt & fear. Would like to be joyous, true and live life each moment with zest, And give the people around me nothing but the best. Would love to talk, communicate and break mental barriers that are creations, and work hard towards mending broken relations. Would love to tell my wife to give me all her tears and fear, And take from me all my love the loving words she likes from me to hear. Would love to make an effort to be a good friend, To my elder daughter and put all petty misunderstandings to an end. Would love to stop to the people in contact ,the shoving, And spend more time in loving. Would love to stop being disadvantageous and outrageous, And speak only the truth and for that be courageous. Would love to fight my emotions all unfriendly, And cover them all with feelings that are friendly. Would love to learn to be sensitive, And towards others be open and receptive. Would love to practice not to crib about all the things life has not given me, And be greatful for the great things around me I have an opportunity to feel and see. Would love to learn to be content about all I have received, And focus now on giving and helping those, whom life has deceived. Would love to pray for world peace and plant more trees, And work to help out for carbon emission decrease. Would love to learn to be forgiving, And be more tolerant and caring. Would love to right some of my wrongs, And be true to myself and hum joyous songs. And finally, would love to learn to be humble and full of gratitude, And to do so spend some precious moments of my day reflecting in solitude.
Service; customer. Look down their nose to mud; always right; you lose. Class.
Dead to the World… I don't feel good about anything anymore Look at me; I'm dead to the world Nothing is sacred, no one is safe Just look at me, I am dead to the world… Say goodbye to a friend that has reached an abrupt end It's much more than a job when it has become a way of life You must see it in another way Realizing that it's not your life And the path ahead is clear and bright again But look at me, I don't feel good about anything anymore Face down; I'm dead to the world Nothing is sacred, no one is safe Just look at me, I am dead to the world… All good deeds die with the day and all good days just as bad will end At the end of the tunnel always bathed in light you'll stand The human contradiction in shades of light and dark The fire inside is burning but still won't give off a spark I don't feel right about anything anymore Just look at me, I'm dead to the world Nothing is sacred, no one is safe Face down; I am dead to the world… You give it all there is to give Your blood, your sweat, your tears And what rewards will be there for you After you have given so many years to the cause But a short and cold goodbye, heartless and thankless So look at me and you will see; I don't feel good about anything anymore Face down; I am dead to the world Nothing is sacred, no one is safe Look at me; I am dead to the world…
China accepted free labor from Americans to pay U.S. debt
Overwhelming stress Like a ton of bricks on her chest It lingers like a pest Much more complex than chess She has no strength left to test Her mind is drained A tense body remains Her soul is heavy with pain On the verge of going insane She's emotionless and growing numb Preparing for what's to come She's ready to run Lay
Parents are very fierce on expectations by holding the rod.... they mean well, but they crush or ignore their teens' wishes; not all are meant for professional careers, others choose trades to express themselves in the best ways they know how. My dad wanted me to be an aircraft engineer, but I rebelled and chose a writing career; I disappointed him a lot by disobeying... but as much as I love airplanes, I prefer writing. I envision those airplanes as thoughts traveling through space on floating clouds, and they are lovely indeed...like the fearless birds flying past the hazy horizon; I wonder how any pilot finds the courage to fly them without looking down... I peaked through that window: all I saw was a blue Earth with majestic mountains. Being a writer is not a guaranteed profession, or a tale from rags to riches... its the happiest one, but it's full of personal satisfaction and self esteem; there's none like it, and on that expectation, I've built my childhood long dream, but the biggest thrill of all is to see your words translated in many languages. Sadly, my dad passed away and his bitterness I recall with pain; it wasn't an act of disobedience, but a matter of choice, or even worthiness, and the choice of one's heart always seems to be the right one! Can anyone among you see my refusal as betrayal, or a desire for greatness?
She sits over her writings, a chrysalis, a solitary form. All of her adventures are tucked in her mind this morn. Her poetry is meant to half make you laugh or weep. Her stories are soulful with multiple twists to reap. Her husband peeks at her ideas before going to work… She can't wait to discuss the results back and forth. She'll revise a little, but not the main inspirational theme. This poem is the result of a days' insightful dream. She's a butterfly who may never come out from her cocoon. But she's safe, warm, and happy… with your reading a boon. There are always those admirers awaiting her final results. Like a butterfly's wings the words tarry, till they finally bust forth. She helps others understand… they're not alone…any more… With a moment of her presence and beautiful, unfurling heart. Then she'll hide away back in her cocoon till when… She'll awaken, forever beginning the cycle… anew, again.
where oh where does my passion lay? in a shoebox, under the staircase? i've been looking all day, i'm getting too tired to play. i guess it's better off this way, to be missing eternally, than to have been found and broken, a curse that bounds when spoken, these days i hardly mention your name. most dreams are fairytales, i need to pretend if i want to achieve. i'm numb, like i've had a lobotomy. i am living in honesty or i am not living at all, my passions been pressed into the page - transformed from a natural beauty into something useful.
Many speak of courage and the dragons that they meet But what of the dragon within, deep within the deep A beast so terrifying, it's made many a strong man weep No flames bursting from its maw Instead a song so captivating it lulls you to sleep All other dragons are scales in its hide One must enter its lair alone and bow at its feet You must respect its power before you draw your sword Because once you stab its heart you in turn pierce your own Mustering this kind of courage is no easy feat By killing the dragon you also kill yourself You are reborn in the womb of wombs You awake to the world humbled and renewed For it's embracing the truth of this beast That allows you the clarity to recognize peace
People work, and may work differently Temporarily or may work permanently People may work together in different positions Some have this job some have that occupations People work for so many employers Employers always look for the customers Small or big work is work all the way Earning to the living all the way Working for the money Spending all the money Or saving all the money Or spending, saving and donating Work with a mission is of complementing Everybody have the same colour blood So no one can become superior by work So work is work, neither big nor small This is the dignity of the job for all
What's Happening to Marriages Today? I was listening to someone just the other day… And I couldn't believe what he had to say! He had left his wife and children for another! She was young enough to be his daughter! Here they were, "in love" and holding hands! Hoping to soon, get their "wedding bands!" They were pretending that this was so "cool." Living now by their own "set of rules!" How sick and disgusting this is getting to be! Is this something that many can't see? God gave us Adam and Eve to become one. To bear fruit through daughters and sons! He gave us marriage as holy vows are made. Not to march in an "adulterous parade!" We are treading on very dangerous ground! Faithfulness and commitment are scarcely found! The very definition of marriage is changing! As the family unit is always rearranging! Our only hope is in Jesus! And him alone! Let's promote his love! Into our hearts and home! Let's allow his love to be our heart's glue! And bring new meaning to the words; "I love you!" May his love bind our hearts and lives together! And remain faithful to each other forever! By Jim Pemberton
late for work, but had to yield to the ambulance with flashing lights raspberry slurpee spilled on important papers as my brakes shrieked at the STOP sign ran up the stairs to beat the elevator slipped and broke my sparkling cherry nails then noticed slurpee spots on my just-perfect blouse, giving it a deeper color entered morning meeting embarassed, with flushed face and blood-vessel eyes my heart pumped excessively as I felt my source of life flow from head to toe sat down and stared at a flowing flag outside-- stripes reminded me of my eventful morning Left work, thanking God for the redemptive blood of the cross that helped me to get through another very colorful day
weary congress, on recess, while a mess still looms
THE BOW LEGGED GIRL I took all of your tank tops and your hose and your sox, and I put them all together in a little brown box. I put all of your dresses and your shoes in a sack, and I wrapped it up because I knew you're never coming back. I took your funky records and your Playgirl magazines and dropped them in the trash with all your green and purple jeans. I took the clothes I bundled up and gave them away, to the Salvation Army, it seems like yesterday. You never told me you were leaving town, you never told me you were leaving. You never told me you were leaving town, you never told me you were leaving. I met a wino on the street, she looks just like you, she wears a see through blouse and she walks bow legged, too. She sings those funky songs and plays the guitar outa sight, and she takes a bath in cheap perfume like you did every night. She still sings about Viet Nam and love we don't show, guess she doesn't know that Viet Nam was 40 years ago. She's out protesting every day and carries a sign, and bites her toenails ev'ry night just like you chewed on mine. You never told me you were leaving town, you never told me you were leaving. You never told me you were leaving town, you never told me you were leaving. She has a job but all she'll say, it ain't chopping wood. And it's funny how her money lasts, and she lives so good. She bought a brand new car one day, a green Cadillac, and it's got a bar up in the front and mattress in the back. I don't know why she thinks she has to work every day, cause I never had a job I just live on my welfare pay. She picks her nose and rolls each bugger in a sugar ball, and just like you used to do, then she eats them all. You never told me you were leaving town, you never told me you were leaving. You never told me you were leaving town, you never told me you were leaving. I married her in the park, it seems like yesterday, and I don't know what I'll do if she doesn't run away. She brought her uncle home with her from work the other night, and her uncle and my cousin all got drunk and had a fight. She got locked in the bedroom with the meter readers dad, and they had a lot of fun all night, but I felt awful bad. He took her home with him a while, but she wouldn't stay, I wish you'd come back home to me, and run her away. You never told me you were leaving town, you never told me you were leaving. You never told me you were leaving town, you never told me you were leaving.
STRESSED Sometimes when things begin to close in, I'd like to sit down and chill out, Find someplace to just get away, And refigure what life's all about. Sometimes it seems life's too full of demands, My talents are spread way too thin. There aren't enough hours to be found found in one day, My duties begin but don't end. Life cannot be just all work and no play, Our youth is gone way too soon. Think I'll start chilln' out before it's too late, Learn to sing me a brand new tune. It's good to know duty and good to know fun, And when each begins and when ends. One must learn life is filled with both duty and fun. Learn to organize so it all blends. Judy Ball If you burn the candle at both ends you run out of candle too fast.
We all wish to be rich And be the best looking to walk the street And we all hope that some where Is the perfect person waiting for us to meet? We all want to have very nice house And live a life very happy Some wish to travel the world And some wants to marry and start family And to live a comfortable life And everyday was easy as 1, 2, 3, To some it do become a reality And to others it will, remain a fantasy But no matter what we become We all need each other skills to survive For the doctor who can save a life Need a mechanic to repair his car to dive And when the president of the U, S, A, Having of eggs coffee and toast bread He needs the poor illegal farmer who harvest And work till their fingers bled And all the kings and queens of the world Needs the unknown tailors and seamstress So when they come out in public Every can see how very they are dress And we open our Christmas gifts And put the garbage out the next day We are so happy to come home and see That the garbage man has taken it away My grand mother use to say That one hand can not clap So we all can't be heading one direction We will reach no where following the same map So no matter if you are very rich Or if you are very poor We need each other to build a house Pave the roads or open a door But still some feel the need to think That they are better than others When they find their self in trouble Then they realize that no one even bothers Some may accidentally spill coffee And their new laptop Then take it to the geek Sayings please make the problem stop The man who cuts the grass To make the million's yard looks nice Or the old Indian lady cooking That mayor Bloomberg like her curry and rice We all can not be the same But we make this world work as one And the sooner we realize that Then a new direction in our life has began There are the unfortunate ones Just look around us and we will see And if we pretend that we don't notice Then its shame on you and me
I sold my soul to the bottom of the beer bottle. So what if I want to wallow around with this low self mentality . A sip here a sip there, why not sip everywhere ...you see? You see, you really don't care when you have the mentality to wallow in the hallow of a bottle. I sold my soul to the bottom of the beer bottle;burning out the aching pain that causes me to be insane with so much shame. Boy,the bottom of the beer bottle isn't where I really want to be?You see the bottom of the beer bottle did not bother me; but now ,it's really affecting me. Ican't eat sometimes I can't even sleep,because the bottom of the beer bottle is calling me.It's really beating my body.How can I ever benefit when the bottom of the beer bottle is calling me?How could this ever happen to me? When I used to win and grin, beating the bottle;what I once to beat is now beating me and my body.The bottom of the beer bottle is calling me. Idrink it waking up and drink it lying down.The bottom of the beer bottle has a tight hold on me.The bottom of the beer bottle is calling me.
The thought of doing anything else, When you have to do something particular, Is truly distracting.
Driving to work on a Sunday, Went to work yesterday, but didn't get much done, Except looking for leads for new work. It's pouring rain outside my big comfortable conversion van, Traffic is stop and go, and I was thinking of a recent girlfriend. I watch people's faces when I can, Puffing my pipe filled with a tobacco that tastes like Texas Twister but It's some flavor that I got when I was working in Oman, Still fresh in the zip-lock bag, or at least fresh enough. I let thick clouds of smoke drift out in front of me, At my foggy front wind shield, then crack the window to watch it rush out into the rain. Traffic jams don't smell so bad in the rain. I roll the window down more because it's been awhile since rain hit my hands. Saint Mark by a composer that I missed was the soundtrack down 75. Schubert played when I missed the exit to 635, but it was completely stopped anyways. So we went down a side road, in the rain smoking my pipe, Going to work on a Sunday. I don't know anyone like me, I really don't. Guess I should do some work now, I have expectations to meet. Michael F. Lewis 8/26/2012
Broken "Perfect" Blowout Preventer Billowing Petroleum Burning Profusely Bodies Paining Burning Peeling Bleeding Pleading Buried Passing Blighted Preserve Bayous Profaned Beaches Polluted Biosphere Poisoned Banned Products Boats Parked Businesses Pinched Breadwinners Penniless Beleaguered President Bluntly Proposed "Billions Promptly" BP Provided British Petroleum Blind Profiteers Bloody Pumpers BRUTAL PERFORMERS! British Petroleum Broke Permits Betrayed Public BRUTAL PERFORMANCE!
At eighty he is still a coolie toiling in paddy lea; reaping pods and heaping the seeds. His sagged muscles working in wonted harmony But his brain tired of thought; of his son who died as a sot; or of his daughter widowed at twenty past or his wife pulling weeds at another spot. He has to carry on this moil; I thought till death to retain his breath. Looking at his pitiable plight a wicked feeling swept my heart. How great we're in contrast; honourable servants of the State. We retire at sixty, in peace. Take home a lump sum of grant, apiece. Also a pension for monthly use. Last but not the least a T.V and a chair to ease. All this at what a simple price. For sleeping forty years in office! ! !
Stiff joints, Tired to the bone, For mere coins, I work all alone, Rough hewn hands, Tarnished by labor, While times slipping sands, ... Erode this old trader, Get a little ahead, Then quickly fall behind, What more can be said, Abound trudging this old grind, I give all I can, They take more away, Until left in my hand, Is less than yesterday, How can this be, How can I survive, When all I can see, Is barely staying alive, There's no promise for me, No hope of retiring, There's no future I see, Except one of perspiring, Where is the hope, When this road is endless, How can I cope, When I am left defenseless, No dreams can I see, No prayers answered today, But I work endlessly, To find a way one day, To find answers, Answers to my prayers, Where hope finally swears, To live up to my cares, And hope blooms, From the hopeless life, Which fills this room, Bringing me such strife, And should this prayer, Be answered by God, I know that I'll swear, To give him all I've got, But I know this is just, A passing dream of mine, And I will do what I must, To keep towing the line, And I know the Lord, Has others with greater needs, So he can not afford, The time to fool with me, An old salty soul, Who is truly lost and sad, But this is my role, And it really isn't all that bad... by My Gull Wheels On a.k.a. Michael Wilson
Dan Cwiak - Dedicated to *** Constance *** The Rambling Poet's work titled: Throbbing With Life In thinking of a contest poem with ~~~ RULES ~~~ Consideration must be given to them, Or the poetry written will not fit Under their *** UMBRELLA *** Lonely, the poet feels encumbered by Doing his work for such a ~~~ CONTEST ~~~ Nothing else can upset the delicate balance Of words, rhyme, and *** METER *** To enter a contest is a challenge For any poet to attempt ~~~ YET ~~~ In so far as subscribing to the rules Necessary, he must make the effort with Devotion, thought, and ***STRONG WILL *** This is the strength of the poet's Heart as a writer and wordsmith, Endeavoring to complete his ~~~ TASK ~~~ When I try to write something clever Or get on with my writing as a *** QUEST *** Rigid are the thoughts that cross my mind, Descriptive are those that only ~~~ ESCAPE ~~~ Such that I am mindful of the burden laid upon me. To some, it may come easily to their *** BEING *** Others, like me, have a more difficult task as the Disharmony of thoughts, words, and feelings Evolve into an imperfect type of ~~~ PERFECTION ~~~ Very often, the expressions are only those Of the emotional guilt I may have for the subject. Too often, however, I begin to use *** Poetic License *** Even though, I should not take that liberty. To those who can claim the poet's glib words, Or the gift that they have, often proceed to ~~~ GIVE ~~~ Yet, such is my life as poet. Such is the ~~~ CONSCIENCE ~~~ Of my soul. Oh, but to shed myself of these thoughts, Under the banner of the poetry that I *** WRITE ***
Maybe I should have bought Fort Garry Personnel for a dollar instead of letting it die. But I thought of next month's office rent. I remember having a desk to sit behind with a phone to make appointments, life sized, watching the business world tense around me. It would have been worth a dollar to play in a lonely historic place, continuing for another month to cherish small hopes, not quite well-dressed and smiling. A bottle of sugar in a glass of wine, pressing a tender, frightened heart into the body of a soldier.
Committing myself to action; I stopped to put all plans away. Determined to author my Life's book pages, I began the business of today. I did away with past and future: Losses made and profits gained; That to lose and this to gain. With the past already accounted for, And future yet to be taken account of; It's a waste for me to keep their books - My business is today
Unfortunate life and endless sorrows And Fractured dreams with gaps between Life and bestowed Wonderings of tommorow Unfortunate life! And—endless sorrows Instead of life long goals this day and morrow With lowly goals instead of dreams Unfortunate! Life! And endless – sorrows And Fractured dreams with—gaps? Between
...however as he slothfully reclined Banking himself on the cold steel bench Dilemma gripped nastily on his shoulders; The clouds pace above and as if alive Winked at him- pulling memories from behind "Oh yes, we are but a speck of a seed A granule, puny and almost trivial By how- minute as we- pull off an impact Than a lone tree in a dry sunny land And lighted cottage amidst dark forest indeed?" Resounding they truly are, his mentor's words Past and spoken, long uttered in the wind. Yet it reverberates from the turquoise skyscrapers To the bench he sat beside his proud Ford. "For the proper or for the practical thing?" An innocent query shrieking upon the silence. a galleon of betterment versus virtue; The bright clouds blots his space on the wide greenery. "Affirmative." A salmon is going upstream.
The everyday struggle of a young black man Just the thought of being broke Trying to get him to understand If you don't work You don't eat But these young black men in today's generation have their own understandin about this dog eat dog world And what it's like to survive in the streets On the block with the nicks and the dimes Like a 9 to 5 Saying they just trying to make ends meet But when those ends don't meet Than their mindset change And turn to plan B Now they scoping out the next man neighborhood Than head back to the house just to plot a B&E Hoping they don't get caught But when they get caught They sit alone in a cell Looking at their reflection as If they were looking at their own worst enemy But nobody din't get you there but yourself Young Black Man You have to ask if need a little help Young Black Man Now you having dreams Anticipating your freedom in that outside land But when you get outside You head back to the block to the trap house To grab your fie and a pound And head back out on the block Talking bout you putting in overtime Young Black Man So it's no more 9 to 5 Now it's sunrise to sunrise but when will you look over your life And finally realize you could have did something better Now you have a child on the way Do you think they care if you work at mc D's , BK Or sold water off the side of the palmetto Just to get a buck Young Black Man You can be an entrepreneauer Set forth and learn something new bruh Instead of being subjected to the streets And next thing we know we lose ya Now you got your family and friends Heading to the Flea To get that R.I.P. placed upon theor black Tee Forced to think about the old days and loved memories Cause you see "Back in the days I was young and afraid Like I was lost in a maze A creature trapped in a cage And I just wanna be free Be FREE BE FREE!!! So Its time we make a change...
while congresmmen are bickering, Americans are appealing: stop the gridlock, start producing!
How do the girls talk, of boys in the bushes and stones in their pockets How do the boys stalk, to thinking that girls are dreaming of nothing but lockets, for keeping inescapable kisses trapped in a hope And why do the ladies say, that helpless are husbands when wells run dry And why do the men cry, though tough as the night, when the daylight dims the eye till work is rest and boredom besets… Like it's given to be Just a fall, just blood blotting from a scrape on the knee So watch it go brown And watch it go down To rise like a star, a little forgotten scar in the memory I heard the lonely yell, "I once was quiet, and I had a truth, but nothing means nothing when something breaks in the laugh!" You can't change in the traffic lights, you can't change a tune or even a melody without breaking a song So I'll get it wrong and she'll see me naked as naked can be Lit by the sun in the contempt of modern antiquities Like it's given to be Just a fall, just blood blotting from a scrape on the knee So watch it go brown And watch it go down To rise like a star, a little forgotten scar in the memory Now how would you say, dappled in ideas That ruins aren't buried under buildings so tall And now how would you say, given the seas You can't wash the sin from the salt in your mouth, you call... "That's it's given to be for you and not me, to rise like a star, with little forgotten scars in your memory."
As my job and health failed me... I dreamed to someday put together a book of poetry and this will be the blessing it will begin with... As I sit here weaving my poetry Into the semblance of a book… I find that I must ask Gods' blessing… For the journey, that together we have took. I find I must bow my head in thought… Over this book that together we have wrought As my hands clasp oh so reverently and earnestly over my heart… As I believe his help brought the words together that I sought. And God set the journey that shaped what now before you begins… He helped me find the words that reached through my heart to my pen. I pray the poems will be worthy of what he showed me as my life's art. And upon this book I honestly pray that his blessing he will impart.
SOUL SNATCHING JOBS Tall Power forks pray-full tongues Chews the tender will Gnaws bones of fragile spirits
4th December, Sernabatim By Sashi.Prabhu(ZEAUOXIAN). They gasp to search and find where lie my secrets dark, I am not handsome or dashing akin some fashion model all sharp. When I start to tell them stuff they are not aware of , they think I fib, Muster they will all their will to put me down and just not crib. When I tell to them it's within my reach and I can do, All they will is to scheme and get me from it as far away as Xanadu. When I enter a room as cool as can be, They lower their voices and their scheming eyes avoid me. As I work upon my chore some error which I do, they chuckle to see, They swarm then around me like a hive of savage bee. I always tell them that it's the fire in my eye and the passion in my heart, Progressive push in my thoughts and joys to my nimble feet brought. Women have wondered what they see in me, They try so hard but my inner mystery they cannot see. When I try to show them what's inside me, They all say in unison they just cant see. Don't know if you will understand why my head is held so high above, I push and drive to get my work done and goals met anyhow. The softness in my heart and the bend of my hair, They have exploited and I all I need now is to care, …. Care I will surely from now on, My resolve to be firm is now far from gone…. I've heard that the war is not right, Because it's only broken relationships that are left. Don't choke and suffocate on holding it within you, I've learnt the universal words that are true " don't hold on to what you want" and you, let go and it comes right back and sticks like glue. Wrong choices in life by them, Get you to the places meant for the "gem". But am saddened now that their hearts now, Pass through desolate and lonely street they sow, To "resentment alley" is the place they will all go……..
got work to do feel like i have the flu but got to go in anyway cant find my keys about to sneeze at home i wish i could stay the wind is frosty just spilled my coffee this is starting out to be a bad day i cough and it hurts defrost dont work and why dont my radio play man! i got a flat and changing it hurt my back but at least i can be on my way and now the car wont crank whew ! there's no gas in the tank life is a funny game that we play trying not to cuss as i chase down the bus when i ran into a kid with a sleigh now i'm late for work and everything hurts but i have to act as if everthings ok now im really tired say what! im fired and i cant even get hazzard pay well those are the breaks i gotta keep my faith so all i can do now is pray
she slides through space clad in vestments of intention washed in moonlight nightly you have seen her heard her rave in dreams in passing telling ancient truth performing the required rituals so that the sun might set the moon might rise the wounds might heal and the old die well may they die well she knows the timeless agony that forms when wont meets scarcity and so she weeps not for herself but for you and i for our children and for the trees never for her self for she has sacred work to do sacred work to do each day you have seen her seen her sleep in grime on sidewalks and once under the sacred trees now gone the sheltering trees the trees that were the final gifts of departing gods casualties of war and ignorance and unacknowledged fear why the rituals why the holy intent why does she love us when we have no love for her she who loves our children she who prays and cries and burns each morning on the pyre of the rising sun
A cooling ev'ning eased the heat of day, Too bright the sun that withers on the skin Throughout the working day, no words can say The pain of being stuck in work within. To work all day when summer paints the sky, Unkind it seems and never truly fair; The promised cash that reasons justify, Is no salvation to a greater care. The working day will end but leave me cold, In the silence of my old, empty room, For she's not there for me to love and hold, As night begins to fall in dusky gloom. Yet with the night I feel her presence near, As whispered words softly caress my ear. Form: English Sonnet
What I meant to say was... I'm sorry, and I miss you, And I forgive you and I hate you I meant to tell you that I want to work it out between us, And it could never work between us, because There's this thing between us, Though you have my whole and soul I listen for your whisper at night, All day, I sickly dread crossing paths I promise you I meant to talk to you again, Unless I got in my way I cry to you, at you, sometimes for you But nevermore in front of you You've made me stronger than that, though I do love you I meant to tell you that you're scum What I meant to tell you was that I can still feel your love Your lies Your kiss Your sighs The quiet way you left me in the night Or the messy way I ripped you from my side Your wish to die Your guilt, my guilt, my lies Nevermore I want to cry What I meant to say is I'm drawn to you For love of danger, or neglect Not for love of myself (or is it?) What I meant to say is that I love you, But I choose me.
Time has flown by, those years I've spent in the parish; a treasure-trove of mem'ries awash with meanings and satisfactions. Ministry came out as a priority nourished and developed; a constant effort. with friends around, prayers to say; God, indeed, is so good. How my ministry has grown with the evolving deal of immersion with people that I walk with or with my prayers every day; a journey, indeed, a continuing struggle. But life has been kind to me notwithstanding my disappointments somewhere; it's with optimism to keep going, to have a positive outlook and determination. Ministry is vital, a coherent rationale for the clergy, religious or lay workers; a great commitment, a sublime calling, mindful of their people, generous to their actions.
The greatest gift I ever got, came with a year that definitely was not. Health costs and a scam had emptied everyone's pot. The tree was bare with nothing to hand out… And my son had to work thru the Christmas Holliday, we all sought. We wished him home but he had to work if he was to eat. And for several years he had not wanted, with us to be. But this year had taught him we were better than he had perceived. And he wanted to come home to hold and be hugged, you see. At the last moment he got the Christmas Day off. Our gift to him was the price of gas and food on the four-hour trip back. But his gift to us… you see was the greatest of all… For he wanted to come home and simply be with us all. Twenty-four hours minus 8 hours on the trip. Dinner wasn't much but it was all we could give. But no one noticed as everyone talked… It truly was the greatest holiday present of them all… that we ever got. Thank you God... your gift to us wasn't lost.
You bring promise to me. What had happened throughout my life I do not understand. I wondered, Is a soul's expression cut down because it is no longer functional when evil reigns? Is expression elite, select, for the pure of heart. Is it no longer at the heart of work when work is all that is left. Is it possible I can survive the loss of my mother's faith, the loss of my father's hope so many years ago' the loss of my Lucy's life, so real and fresh. Is it possible that the creative bulldozers she dreamed of are real. Is it possible that life can include shalom while destruction continues its constant rain. Is shalom not just a myth to seduce youth and age into not despairing. Having you with me is disturbing in my soul. Disturbed where there is vitality and life, mystery and still secrets, force and calm, creativity not yet released, promise and hope. It reminds me of years ago, when hope was more vivid, when my soul believed it could express itself and not become damaged. When I believed in soul and not evil. Lucy believed in soul. I believed in her. She finally did what was in her soul. It was beautiful to watch. It left me feeling soulless, but I loved her, loved her with all my heart. You bring promise to me. ~~~ To the woman who came into my life after my wife Lucy's death from cancer. ~1998
Excavation begins, chisel strikes hardened rock surface So uncompromising that not a mark is made. Another more powerful strike breaks through, a small cranny. Slowly, precisely, painfully, the work pays off. Layer upon layer lies beneath, how disconcerting, so much more work to be done to reach the core. Steadily each layer fragments, revealing yet another, hardened more by time's passage. The digging down seems endless yet, with sweat and tears and little sleep, the work is done. The journey to the center reveals the magma, the essence, the truest form, beneath all the hardened rock.
Call this a life Sat at a screen Of life. End. Attention span Still trying to make sense Shortened Still on the internet The younger generation wants to be successful.
19th april 2012 By Sashi.Prabhu(ZEAUOXIAN). I just can't win, And when i get very close to win ............ They gasp to search and find where lies my secrets dark, I am not handsome or dashing akin some fashion model all sharp. When I start to tell them stuff they are not aware of, they think I fib, Muster they will all their will to put me down and just not crib. I just can't win When I tell to them it's within my reach and I can do, All they will is to scheme and get me from it as far away as Xanadu. When I enter a room as cool as can be, They lower their voices and their scheming eyes avoid me. I just can't win As I work upon my chore some error which I do, they chuckle to see, They swarm then around me like a hive of savage bee. I always tell them that it's the fire in my eye and the passion in my heart, Progressive push in my thoughts and joys to my nimble feet brought. I just can't win I just can't win Women have wondered what they see in me, They try so hard but my inner mystery they cannot see. When I try to show them what's inside me, They all say in unison they just can't see. Don't know if you will understand why my head is held so high above, I push and drive to get my work done and goals met anyhow. But I just can't win The softness in my heart and the bend of my hair, They have exploited and I all I need now is to care, …. Care I will surely from now on, My resolve to be firm is now far from gone…. I dont care if I can't win. I've heard that the war is not right, Because it's only broken relationships that are left. Don't choke and suffocate on holding it within you, I've learnt the universal words that are true "Don't hold on to what you want" and you, Let go and it comes right back and sticks like glue. Wrong choices in life by them, Get you to the places meant for the "gem". But am saddened now that their hearts now, Pass through desolate and lonely street they sow, To "resentment alley" is the place they will all go…….. With them losing my heart would be happy because "I just can't win"
The stagnate machine planted firmly, rusted gears laboring to drudge along. It does not function properly anymore; it has become obsolete. The workers no longer need the machine to live their lives. They can design a new system, built upon self-sustaining values. It once labored greatly to support its work force. The machine now hinders the lives of the workers. The workers grew so reliant upon the machine they thought they had become part of it, cogs in the system. Now they realize more and more each day, that not only are their lives separate from the machine, without it they are more able to focus on the fundamental values of life.
somethings change and somethings stay the same walking into the basement bathroom noticing how the light reflects off of the mirror above the towel hanger now there are mermaid bones mixed in the porcelain and urine in my toilet. standing there longer than usual staring down. half of me amber siphoned out and my lips are dry, half pack of camels in my left pocket. somehow acrylic sanitary acronymns float to the surface, i stare at them, but i cant quite make them out. oh well what a waste i think, i might have needed some of those. then i remember the acid stamps i had taken a few hours earlier, i think they were called purple elephant.
Every second passes by me unseen But I can feel the weight of one minute After each hour my mind becomes keen: That these days are adding up bit by bit. Each week my personality alters A year goes by and my mind starts to twist Decades pass and it seems as time falters, My mentality gets lost in time's mist. Yet when I am with you the clock stands still If only I could exploit these feelings I could stop the sands of time at my will But I'm not capable of these dealings Time now steals what I already forgot My mind starts to fade but our love will not
Lately, I have noticed a very disturbing trend. Many people wish for their life to end! There are many circumstances that bring this about. Many feel "trapped in," and think "there's no way out!" I admit,... I have been very discouraging thoughts. Sometimes, wondering, if I was dealt "the wrong lot." But just when I feel alone and trapped within. I think about Jesus! He's always been my friend! I've called to him more than a time or two... When I didn't know "what I was going to d." When, to him, I cried out and pleaded... He's given to me the hope and direction I needed! I recommend this same Jesus to your life today! Whatever your problem... He has made a way! An abundant assurance Is what Jesusbrings! He is an awesome God! And can take care of everything! Your problems are never too big or small for him to take control. He can bring healing to you! And make your body whole! He is what's needed! In this lost and dying generation! Won't you accept his mercy and salvation??? By Jim Pemberton 2012
So finally Age's shadow throws its cast Time for some to live the past And yet I have this silly quirk I'd feel much better back at work So rather than stay home and snooze I'm back at work No time to lose And with a staged real happy face I join once more the working race Ignoring others ripe with cash Doing little with their stash Their burned out wives no longer stay With boring mates to waste their day So maybe my new life's not bad Better busy Then just sad. Use your brain It must be fed Just move ahead Get out of bed New challenges will keep you strong Don't waste these days That's just plain wrong
I imagine my mind as a factory, With hundreds of people inside of me Who work at their desks with pencils and ink, To write out my thoughts and the things that I think. They are staticians and doctors and men who suggest Answers to questions when I take a test. They are playwrights and editors who take to the screen Movies and dramas whenever I dream. They are psychologists and soldiers and comedians too, Mho write out the scripts for the things that I do. But in spite of these people, I have yet to find What place I hold in this factory-mind. What do I produce when I work at my desk? Is there something that only I can do best? Am I unneeded? A personality diminished? Perhaps I'm a half-thought, simply unfinis---
Stairs are like classes preliminary to top who reaches obtains
Spending the whole day Working so hard and striving For the wine and gold..
When disrespect is given Never expect generosity When fakeness is proven Never expect the same treat When a sorry is said but not taken in action Don't ever imagine or wait for forgiveness In this case it is never granted Cold frosty rude looks should be from the person Who got no respect? Not the other way round Life is there; don't wait for good things to come Go running after them Take each opportunity Strengthen each relationship Hard work is the key for every success Organize your life Schedule each day Live with gratefulness for being alive Live with hope for what good to come Never expect happiness is in your house Unless you open its door Cover your sadness Never show you're weak Communicate and socialize Meet new friends And never forget old ones Never rely or depend on anyone Be independent Don't beg for any needs Live and work Earn and buy If you want something Do it your self Feel some pride Ignore silly mistakes Always remind yourself Of how a greater person you would be For doing something an ordinary couldn't…
These Are Difficult Times! These are difficult times, with many frustrations. Many people in hardships and difficult situations! Many are filled with worry and concern. Not really knowing which direction to turn. As more are getting dependent on government. Many without work have lost any kind of fulfillment. While many seek what seems to be the best "plan." Cries of hopelessness ring throughout the land! I, too, have been without work in the past. Wondering how much longer it would last. The months that went by, turned into years… As I sought assurance for my worries and fears. The only true peace and security I have found. Has brought love, when life came "crashing down." I found that what really matters the most! Is Jesus! And letting him hold me close! I knew if I lost everything that was around me… God's presence and peace still surrounds me! He made it very evident and so clear. Whatever happens in life... HE IS ALWAYS HERE! He picked me up when I felt lonely and depressed! With him in my life… I felt comforted and blessed! My problems didn't disappear in just one day! But through life's trials… God made a way! Whatever difficulty or problem you may face… Won't you accept God's gift of mercy and grace? He can do more than any other power can do! And brings meaning to the words; "I LOVE YOU!" By Jim Pemberton
So you say you cannot be caught when you do things that are immoral or lawfully wrong Even when performers are on stage, ask Ashley even they get caught when they lip synch their songs So no one is really perfect in any way Every dog has it's day After they sin, the next moment they are asking for forgiveness on bended knees Fish do drown and Monkeys do fall from trees Just for example I watch a car pass me and down the road they are pulled over for speeding Companies brag about how well they manage their people, come on Cintas, that is so misleading Sometimes it is best not to say what is on your mind You may hurt someone you care about and bread that thin threaded line They say you can't please everyone, so who do you please Fish do drown and Monkeys do fall from trees Now you are at work and are hiding because you stayed out past your work curfew How selfish, the only one you care about is you You know where to go to catch some Z's Some time you will realize that Fish do drown and Monkeys do fall from trees
They gasp to search and find where lie my secrets dark, I am not handsome or dashing akin some fashion model all sharp. When I see beyond and tell them stuff they are not aware of , they think I fib, Muster they will all their will to put me down and just not crib. When I see beyond and tell them it's within my reach and I can do, All they will is to scheme and get me from it as far away as Xanadu. When I enter a room as cool as can be, They lower their voices and their scheming eyes avoid me. As I work upon my chore some error which I do, they chuckle to see, They swarm then around me like a hive of savage bee. I always tell them that it's the fire in my eye and the passion in my heart, Progressive push in my thoughts and joys to my nimble feet brought. When I see beyond me and wonder what they see in me, They try so hard but my inner mystery they cannot see. When I try to show them what's inside me, They all say in unison they just cant see. Don't know if you will understand why my head is held so high above, I see beyond and drive to get my work done and goals met anyhow. The softness in my heart and the curl of my hair, They have exploited and I all I need now is to care, …. Care I will surely, as I see beyond from now on My resolve to be firm is now far from gone…. I see beyond that the coldwar is not right, Because it's only broken relationships that are left. Don't choke and suffocate on holding it within you, I've learnt the universal words that are true " don't hold on to what you want" and you, let go and it comes right back and sticks like glue. Wrong choices in life by them, Get you to the places meant for the "gem". I see beyond and amsaddened now that their hearts now, Pass through desolate and lonely street they sow, To "resentment alley" is the place they will all go……..
"The smile then melts off her face in a frantic heat of boiling, screaming rage and trickles down into a pool of boundless sorrow...." React like you think they think you should Whether or not you really feel good The act will pass on and so will they soon enough Don't you show your pain Keep pretending you're still sane This life is a dream and it's not long now 'till we all wake up ====================== Look for the song-----coming soon! www.sorrylittlesharky.com
Each day that I go to work, I feel like I'm a zombie… The smiling faces I put on are all just an act. At the end of the day my jaw hurts from putting on these fake smiles, The smile that seemed to be permanently glued to my face…slowly fades. I'm tired of making petty conversation, when I couldn't give a damn… But I guess it could be worse… I could be that girl, the one I used to see every Thursday… The one with razor-blade scars on her arms that made my stomach coil… I'd ask her for her bonus card, casually, like everything was okay…perfectly normal… She would hand it to me…cautiously, her hands always shaking. I felt sorry for her… No…I will not show her pity… She's probably sick of hearing everybody's sympathetic nonsense… No one can really understand unless they've been through it… I can only imagine…but I too have felt like ending my own misery… Sometimes I think of how I could change it all… How I could change this ridiculous routine that I call my life… But then I think twice and remember what I have… And then I thank my lucky stars that I'm smart enough to reconsider this… Something so selfish and cowardice as suicide… Then, my smile becomes real… No more fake, happy-masks…I do give a damn… I am truly thankful for what I have… I am grateful for the job, home and loving family that I have … I am also thankful that I have enough faith in God… Enough faith that I would never take the life that was given to me… Faith is not something to be taken lightly. It's something not all people have… Something that this girl may not have had… This job…only temporary, I know I can move on…my life could be worse, but it isn't, I've taken so much for granted, its time to say "thanks."
My heart doesn't beat like yours any more It's held together with duct tape and string Balloons pump my blood and gears turn the beat Paper clips hold everything in place I've noticed no one notices Though I'm patched and stitched in places And the seams stretch and pull and tear They still feel open half the time You see, I still work just fine My limbs, they move, my mind, it thinks Yes function over form, I still work just fine Though the buzzing noise in a bit odd And the paper clips often bend and break Many pieces ought to be replaced But I just can't afford it now Good hearts cost much more than what I make And like I said, it works just fine Most of the time, when the bits don't break
Dishonor of truth images of all poses Mirror is enough
Sometimes it's far too easy to Not see the one in love with you. Gone away or right nearby To see clearly you must try To look beyond the pretty face and look for inner peace and grace Those are the things that mean much more then the physical you've been looking for. So each day when you come home Be thankful you are not alone. Someone there has chosen to Spend this day right here with you Despite all the plans they could have made Not a second of life with you they'd trade For the little things that they do for no one in the world but you Next time when you look at them Ask about their day don't just pretend Pay attention to their every word Even if all those stories you already heard For it is of those that made you two Your loving attention made them love you Just because some time has past Don't let these seconds be your last For with each second that you are blessed Share with them that happiness It means so much more when it comes From the person that you truly love Without attention love will surely die Reviving it you can try But once the damage is said and done It will take more work to make you two one. With that work comes it's reward The kind of love you've been searching for So make the time to spend together That time will result in love forever You will have done the very thing That makes love what it is supposed to be Between two people for all time Is what makes your love the special kind.
Realization of reality Harmony in yielding of Time with honoring motion..........................................
I stand at an intersection A flashing light above my head Red Yellow Green Over and over again Never ending Watching the empty roads Animals run by Never noticing its endless work Weeds and dust blow by in the breeze Floating away without stopping Am I the only one to stop? To look? To notice? I watch I have to feel admiration This machine left alone Nowhere Minutes, hours, days, years Working, waiting for someone to take notice But, does it even want to be seen? Does it care? Or is it happy in the middle of its own world?
What's the opposite of a jobless recovery? Am I recovered in my unemployment plan? Can my life's ambition be made compulsory? Can I ever be in pursuit of happiness again? Is my economic outlook feverishly rising? Can my party fix all my troubles with planks? What's the good in dour predictions surmising, a bleak future is likely in my future thanks? Do charts and graphs shovel down in the ditches? Can talking heads turn sound-bites into a meal? Can legislators bind citizens strife with stitches? Do they even realize that our struggle's a big deal? Do the waifish children known as Ignorance and Want clinging under the ghost of Christmas present's robe have no earthly refuge or resources, to flaunt? Are there no prisons, no workhouses to provide hope? A man's measured by more than the job that he works Best accept the fact now that we're brother's keeper Day after day without a job, life's a struggle without perks and the price of peace and contentment is made steeper © Goode Guy 2012-03-13 http://www.npr.org/blogs/money/2012/03/12/148450194/whats-the-opposite-of-a-jobless-recovery
Gender prejudice is a hoot, Who gives another the right to determine femininity or masculinity? Haven't they ever heard of men who act very feminine, Yet, they are not gay, Metrosexuals, that's just their way, Then, there are women who relish being Tom-Boys, because the thrill of kicking aces brings them joy, They can beat the old boys' network at their own games, doing it effectively and without shame, However, closed minds feel better off trying to ostracize, because an Amazon woman can cut anyone down to size.....
Let, the finest senses be flown in to the hearts of 'The World' Let, the dirty, from every stairs, angles and spheres, be clean Let, the Children be grown up with such mentallity for better future Let, the politics of selfishness be closed forever to pave all the ways of good Constructions Let, the peace, prosperity and happiness live in every one's home Let, me be there with all again in this World with all generations Being an utmost beggar, Oh! GOD, I pray you, give me begs as I pray for
We may fool ourselves but not our Lord and Savior Will we meet his eyes at peace with our own behavior? The little lie, the hidden truth might be written in the sky Each little act of deception, will it be reflection in his eye? Can we see others faults yet close the door to our own When we reach the end can we show we have truly grown? Will we be ready to accept responsibility for our action? Will things said and done to others be a sobering distraction? If I have power do I use it for helping others succeed? Do we take advantage of others to satisfy our own need?
Self destructive, even writing on pages without lines feels chaotic and liberating even though I know the frustration I will feel as my words slope downwards, down words. They angle, pitching against my embedded need for order and yet I fight them I struggle to keep the line-to see the line-I'll walk that line-can't stay in line- always last in line-do not cross this line-that line-THE FINE LINE!!! Obsessed with the line which makes perfect sense yet none at all and the shortest distance between two points is a straight line and I always thought I loved straight lines. But I combat that translucent self declaration by my blatant deviance from that line. Don't get out of line-will I lose my place what am I waiting for? Don't get out of line - am I misbehaving inflicting my own consequences? Self destructive, seeing if I can break, take a break, break in time, break it off, breaking down, braking fast, failing brakes, I drive too fast, in such a rush, I need the rush, I need to breathe, can't catch my breath, I am breathless, and now I'm weight less, weight on my shoulders, bear the weight, can I bare the wait, wait for me, wait one cotton picking moment, in this moment, momentary lapse, memory lapse, running laps, running in place, where is my place, I've been misplaced. Self destructive, too reluctant to restore order, may I take your order, don't give me orders, I like disorder, I love misconduct, code of conduct, code of honor, in your honor, I'll honor you. Self destructive, seep into the wall, against the wall, behind the wall, behind the scenes, the scenery green, envious green, green like greed, greed is need with no hope for survival no Savior, revival. Self destructive, psychologically damaged, damaged goods, previously owned, needs a good home, welcome home, no place like home, run away from home, homeless, helpless, hopeless, more or less, better or worse, it looks worse than it is. Self destructive, but progressing, work in progress, needs some work, work on me, work with me, piece of work, work for peace. I am at piece piecing together the things I have broken when I had no brakes to take a break to find my peace. Self destructive, my nature is to conclude the inconclusive, wrap it up neatly, nice little package, suspicious brown package, but I can't, I refuse to this time, what time is it, out of time, some other time, stop wasting time, no not this time, need to make the time. Still self destructive, the scars don't show, not all the time.
Have you ever seen The portrait of a dog Painted on the road, Not in the great tradition Of living colours as you'd Expect, but in all the Terror and detail of An untimely death? Have you ever seen The sketch of an imposing house Rendered not in vibrant charcoal But the coal of shattered Hopes and burnt out hulks- The work of the Great Artist above Or the mean imitation of an earthly forger? Have you ever seen The picture of an ocean beach With dark waters lapping The fish-laid shore, Not the magnum opus of A master in oils; but The work of an oil slick? Have you ever seen These great Works of Art? And have you ever wondered why You had to be The great portrait Of a Master Caricaturist?
I am bewildered as to how to carry on my write ups! With my eyes all time into the bookish stuffs; Teachers and proffessors praise me for my talents- But still they scold me for studies making me silent. I am bewildered as to how to think positive! With all men in power stressingupon negatives; They say us to be optimists- But neither thet act nor allow us to be good artists. I am bewildered as to how to invent new in life! With mind in tension where I thrive; They tell me you will do great- But the same warns me perform or fret. So much contradicts in this world of mine- To write and find new please give me some time!!
we crimp we stamp all bang bang day putting parts to bang bang gether thinking only of our bang bang coffee break
A man's man, He'd been in the war, saw many places not seen before. Liked to work with His hands, smoked a pipe and came from France. Raced His horse on Sunday, and used it to plow on Monday. Liked to wear suits and hats, but didn't like the neighbors cats. He had built the first bus, so school wouldn't be missed. Made Me a toy barn when I was 3, came to all My birthdays, just for Me ! Taught Me to work very hard, didn't like people who turned to lard. Stuck up for Me when I was a kid, cared a lot when nobody did ! Had worked for the railroad, up in Ashland where it's very cold. Showed Me how to work with wood and told Me how to dance with girls good. Kept his car shiny and bright, at 20 years old, it was a beautiful site. He showed Me respect... and told my studies not to neglect. Loved Grace his wife, and was with Her for life. Helped to make Me a man, and to be all that I can ! By Perri R. Voge for My GrandPa Voge, I miss him.
Walmart by Steven Pineda There is a place that I work at that is called Walmart. I get ready everyday just to go to work for the evil corporation of slave drivers. The managers there are like giants holding whips slashing you and telling you to do there bidding. You do get a break ever two hrs but the water they give you is gasoline and is nasty and they shackle you to the store so you will not try to escape and run for your life. I stand at the register which is an evil machine that sticks its claws into you and doesn't allow you to move till you feed it money. And the thing you should be scared of is the almighty customer which you have to bow down to and do what ever they say. As I stand there waiting for them to come with all there nasty goodies their going to buy I tremble because I can hear the sound of their foot steps which is like nails on a chalk bored screeching towards you. If they choose you and go to your line beware for there are not forgiving and will throw you to the fire at a given chance. The first customers comes towards me and with whips starts hitting me and telling me to move faster to ring up there items so they can go home and dwell in they cave they came from. Hands hurting, Fingers bleeding this is the life of a cashier. At the end of the day I reach the doors and something magical happens I grow my wings back and fly home to enjoy myself. Then in return I become the customer and make another cashier bow down to me.
Poet's eyes Closed by reality Hands bound by housework Insanity prolonged by repetition Exit door locked Key lost in yesterday Can it be found? A copy of a life once lived may be But is it reality for you? Conformity, the angel of death to a free spirit Raising its head to modern day life Fairytale dreams of revolution cloud dreams As life soars on the clouds of the future We take another step into tomorrow Nothing more to conclude Nothing more to imagine Nothing more to give Society has won One more tally on the score sheet One more person driven insane
Many moons ago in autumn I often sucked my thumb Cuddled up in my little crib I couldn't even see my ribs I would say gaga moomoo While looking at the moon That was so much fun then Oh my, time is on the go Now I am paddling my canoe Wondering what info is new With chap sticks on my lips Taking this multitasking trip Looking forward to the day When I can with honesty say Time to kick back and relax Without swinging this axe © Joseph, 11/2/07 © All Rights Reserved Oh well, you know what I mean. Keep scratching your head. It's figurative! Got you~lol...hehe!!!
he stands amid the dusted rays of beams from smudged, windowed days casting light on the words below pressed flat upon papered page he's been here since before sun up stained and smelling of turpentine surveying the thoughts he's pressed quickly he hangs the page to dry then re-inks the typeset laid to table and inserts another piece to press pulling at the screw-pressed platen repeating process his labors express his desire to enlighten the world not just his neighbors informed to tell ideas and thoughts carried on back ancestors haunched with ink and quill before them criers cried the street events be known upon lips aloud spreading ideas throughout the land difficult to speak beyond the crowd and unbeknownst to him and kind someday in future ideas are spread with something called electricity through wires and waves on into head to reach to you my heartfelt soul ideas with emotions and feelings said until now, thoughts sweetest aspirations words spread like jam on slice of bread words, like feelings toil quietly carry your touch and feeling along to distant lands and distant times to give life's meaning, therefore prolong what the publisher and writer wish to convey to all able to read or hear that thought, like life, is precious held close at hand, the mind made clear © Goode Guy 2011-08-09 http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ink http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Printing_press http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Publishing
If what you're doing now is not worth finishing and you keep starting it for the sake of going through the motion, no emotion, then that's a lot of aimless, brainless life-wasting.
Fame? how can you claim? when you lack an aim! no aim means no name. As streets without names, indescribable to a damsel, so your work becomes endless, when at work you're aimless. Even a lame with an aim, quickly came and earned a name, while many were maimed, for daring life unarmed! They thought of claiming fame, but life got them tamed, for not living with an aim, in their struggle for fame!
Throwaway child abandoned by father rejected by mother No place to call home no food, no safety, no shelter just work to be done. Minding the store, paying the bills, taking care of mother and little brother. Child promised her mother, "I won't let you loose the house." Sent to school often tired and hungry, Classmates showed no mercy. "Say you're a boy! Cry!" Taunted, battered, tortured; the child refused to cry. She sucked all the emotion in, Vowed to defeat all enemies, to protect, provide and serve her family no matter the cost. Young girl called upon to be a man always felt male inside.
I have been challenged To everyday Just WRITE SOMETHING You'd think that'd be a simple task Since I call myself a writer Just WRITE SOMETHING Isn't as easy as it seems. What am I supposed to write When all I'm trying to do is Just WRITE SOMETHING? Maybe I should WRITE SOMETHING About how I woke up feeling great, ready to take on the day Until I turned on the news heard the snow storm hit earlier than expected Making the commute to and from work a complete disaster Maybe I should WRITE SOMETHING About how for once The CTA was running on time And I actually made it to work early As opposed to my standard 5 – 10 minutes late Maybe I should WRITE SOMETHING About how long my workday seems to drag when I'm in the office And how fast times flies when I'm not Maybe I should WRITE SOMETHING About how I'm grateful that I have a job But really feel like I'm just spinning my wheels coming here everyday Maybe I should WRITE SOMETHING About the homeless woman I saw during lunch And how I wondered where she'd go tonight when the 'deep freeze' hits Maybe I should WRITE SOMETHING About never finding the time to myself to write Instead settling on jotting lines down On whatever piece of paper is handy Whenever something comes to mind Maybe I should WRITE SOMETHING About how at the end of the day I look in my notebook and all I see written is I WISH I COULD'VE THOUGHT OF SOMETHING TO WRITE
It's 5am, and the alarm clock screams As I reluctantly open my eyes Starting my day with a regimented routine Before the sun even begins to rise. As I dawn my vest and uniform of blue And pin the silver badge upon my chest, I pray that I return home safely to you And yes, I promise I will do my best. Some call me a hero, others call me a pain Because I've sworn to protect and serve, They think that I do it for some kind of gain Not realizing that it takes a lot of nerve. To stare into the face of a person with a gun Praying you don't have to pull the trigger, I can certainly tell you that it isn't fun And there's a lot of emotional rigor. Sometimes I feel like I can't do it anymore As I kiss my wife and walk out the door, But then I realize that I've given my pledge; To face all hardships and walk that razor edge. It's 5am, and the alarm clock screams As I reluctantly open my eyes Starting my day with a regimented routine Before the sun even begins to rise.
Today is the Dreaded Day That many will be put out on the street And others won't have any power And others won't have any food to eat. And other's children won't have a Christmas They won't have any presents by a tree They won't even have a tree at all They'll feel lucky if they get to eat. This is American reality today People are living on the streets People who could never have imagined That this is where that they would be. They look at themselves in the mirror And wonder where did they go wrong They live in this great country How long can this go on? These are highly educated people With their Masters and Phds Why is there no work for them? There is no place for them to work How is it that this can be? And then there are the other ones Who just want to work for an honest wage And there is no work for them as well No chance of employment at any place. The weeks and months have been turned into years by now They've long since lost track of how many days. There has to be a solution For our country to get back to where it's been Something is going to have to give For all Americans to live as men. We didn't ask to live like a bunch of animals To be begging for food on the streets We deserve to have some dignity We should be able to work for what we need. So damn all those who have caused this financial mess Those who have injured all those of us with pride Let them live with the devil until eternity ends It'll be a fitting punishment for what they've done to others in this life. God bless all of those who are fighting every day just to survive Who now don't even have enough to eat God bless their defenseless children Who continue to struggle and live in need. One has to continue to believe in goodness That those who do the right thing will somehow win And that American Prosperity and Industry Will return to our country once again. Today is the Dreaded Day That many will be put on the street And others won't have any power And others won't have any food to eat. (December 22, 2010 Wausau, Wisconsin) (c) Copyright 2010 by Christine A Kysely, All Rights Reserved,
A poem comes in disguise like a beggar in the mall. Some sit and look pitiful and can not meet your eyes. Others have a story, "My sister's fatally sick in Ukiah, please help us we've run out of gas." Some poems work subliminally, you wonder if they might be from another world. They stand in busy walkways and chant "spare change", under their rancid breath, seemingly oblivious of you. Some wear their sign that tells their life, a life that might be yours. Others affect an air of casualness as if they were your best friend, "Say, you got a quarter?". And then there's the one in whom you sense such doom and menace that you have to cross the street. You drop your metaphor in the cups, because you never know whether any of them will work for food, whether any will really work
at times a man is driven to better himself and make big ching to flex what his brain has to offer so he can provide the wife with all the bling sometimes a man grows frustrated for it seems no matter how he tries the cheeseburger in his life always comes with cold french fries yet a true man learns to recognize that there is more to satisfaction than big ching recognition for ones' best efforts is what makes a man's heart truly sing so when he brings home the bacon the wife will make his bread doe rise and if things aren't perfect for his lady she proceeds to simply nuke those cold french fries
perfection is known up to up to date
Going Through A Layoff??? Are you one who watches the nightly news? And hear of the many jobs people will lose? Does this news bring to your life much uncertainty? Knowing that very soon… This could be a reality? Are you one who's filled with fear and apprehension? Feeling the burden of stress and a lot of tension? Perhaps you feel very discouraged and "distraught." Here's a "lesson" that needs to be taught! Don't allow yourself to worry about "how things are going." There's a God in heaven that you need to be knowing! He knows all about your layoff and every situation! The love and peace he gives needs no explanation! Everything that you need... Jesus does provide! Worry? Or Trust HIM? That's for you to decide! By Jim Pemberton
Give to me the good land sweet earth and soil the sun the shade and her toil Put me back in natures hand the cycle of things that I understand Stand beneath the light of the stars and my face to warm in the sun pick herbs in summer showers and hold you firmly in my hand the joining of woman and man Feel the crisp breeze of the bay and accomplish the work of the day lay by your side every night without a struggle or fight Let the warmth of my soul dispell your fear and your anger quell Trust my soul to work for your good and all between us is understood Let us run the river beside and in the woods play seek and hide Sing to the children our song that we should all get along To the cycle we all understand Belonging to woman and man COPYRIGHT © 2009 C Michael Miller via Duboff Law Group LLC
Hired as a lab assistant to do minor things. Never thought this job could be so boring. It's not as fun as it was last semester. We always had a crowd, but not any more.
I ain't got no money, But I work my butt off, Every single day. I work so I can have a place to stay All of the time, I work to get half of your dimes, That you drop when you go down to flop. Unlike you I never have time to watch the clock. I got a degree that I don't use, Because of the negligent leaders that you choose. Unskilled labor aids the campaign. You talk about me, But you don't care to know my name. I got skills: But I have to pay the bills. I want to be like you and cruise on a yacht. I'm building what you bought. I'm putting your house on a lot. I'm scrubbing your pots. I'm working as an indentured servant. Hoping that I get what I'm deserving, But for the time being: I'm slaving, Dancing to my homemade tunes, Complaining to colleagues, who are also on their knees praying for life To get better, Singing strongly the Blue Collar Blues. written 9-5-04 while still a college studenta
One thing in common There are different factions In every nation Fighting wars to get a reaction Only bringing us pain and dissatisfaction No one cares about the children Who they claim to be fighting for And nobody wants to talk about it So peace can thru the door And the only thing they have in common Some of them like the same songs So I got an idea to try to stop the fighting If I can get them all to do sing along In the name of the john~ let's give peace a chance In the name of George ~ we can work it out In the name Paul ~ let's live together in harmony In the name of ring ~ put down the guns lets twist and shout So many different religions But there's only one god And each wants the other To die by the sword And all claim to be working for the lord But how can you go to heaven God can pick out the false prophets And all the blasphemes hadean How many children must die? For they to begin to care How many mothers must cry? In pain and despair But if they really love the children Then I come up with a plan To break down in sections So they all can understand In the name of Jesus ~ let the children go In the name of Muhammad ~ set the children free In the name of Rama ~ let the children grow In the name of Krishna ~ let the children be Let's see what happens Only the future can tell Bet many who say they work for god Surely will end up in hell It's funny how man can go to the moon In ships of metal fuel,and glass And right here on earth They can make peace last
If you can, tilt this way right now for the first time my work is on consignment yet , I'm still waiting to be paid I suppose if this is how it must be for these moments just for you I'll work for free can I whisper to you how many colors I see in a sunset or the brighter side of a rainy day share with me some of your lime light and if you can , if you have the energy c'mon and tilt this way
Struggle Utilize Crave Crucial Eager Sacrifice Self-gratification
To satisfy my sweet tooth, I stole a stranger's honey bun When no one was looking. I took it out of its wrapper And laid it on a plate. It smelled delicious. I opened up a small door And closed the one behind me. I set the timer and it revolved Until the sweet icing melted On the soft bubbling pastry. Its aroma filled the room. Quickly! I took the delicacy. Hot and sticky on my fingers... I could hardly hold it in my hands. Hot and sticky on my lips... Though I tried to be careful, I burned the roof of my mouth, And my tongue felt fuzzy. All to satisfy my sweet tooth... I ate the swirl in a hurry Rolling it over my tongue Taking in quick cool breaths With animated chewing And grimaced facial expressions. I didn't enjoy it with the time That I had hoped I could have. Then, I threw the evidence away In plain sight and opened the door. I left the room at a swift pace As if on important business. The stranger had no idea... Except that his honey bun was gone.
Homeless Me Never!!! I am not the bag lady you see down the street. I am not the addict who beggs for cash. I am not the window washer you see when you get gas. I am not the one at the end of the freeway, "Who says i work for food." I am not the one who lies and cheats. I am not the one doesn't care. I am not the one that you watch as i walk by. Me, Homeless Never BE!!!!! I pay my bills and take a bath. I work my nine to five to make my cash. But when i wake up everyday, I am the mother with no where to stay. So i thought that it would never be me. I guess am homeless can't you see!!! So next time you see a bum or a bag lady walk your way. Please give them a smile and a very good day. Because it could be you one day!!!!!
This can be done, and it is not, promise is made, to buy time and, let it all go by, machine works for us, and we work for machine, in between we do not work at all, whatever comes in between, is all lost, the human initiative and touch, in a dehumanised society, if you are not a byte, you do not enter, you are not admitted, you are not given passport, you are not issued a driving licence, you are not allowed voting rights, and you are not a citizen, machine solution is simple, and anything beyond it is tough, complex,mad and not done, is it what we intended with machines, that we forget initiative and courtesy, to work solutions away from machines, when needed and needed bad, this way we are only proving more 'green', and would ultimately turn red.
This is to all my sisters, Who are in the market for a Grand Marqui. Please make sure to ask the jeweler for a certificate of authenticity. See i knew this jeweler who's work was well known Many admired his work without having work done. His cuts were made with precision his angles were made with perfection and he captured every spectrum of light But see this was no diamond in the ruff just a cubic zirconia for half price.
There are so many things to live life for. It is always nice to keep an open door. There's so much to dream and hope for Some dreams die but there's always room for more . And it is nice always to keep an open door. Let your heart and mind soar and be free. Some dreams die but there's always room for more. Since life can give us more than dreams. Let your heart and mind soar and be free. And live your life the best you can. Since life can give us more than dreams. So work hard and make your dreams come true. And live your life the best you can. There's so much to dream and hope for. So work hard and make your dreams come true. There are so many things to live life for. Dorian Petersen Potter aka ladydp2000 copyright@2008 November,12,2008
Oh to sail the winds as the eagle soars And fly away so free To escape from the crushing pace we create The hammock calls to me The deer grazing in the sun-splashed field Enjoying the late day sun Taxi to taxi, subway to train, hurrying to the next delay Lost is our time for fun Chipmunks scurrying hither and yon, butterfly-like Working and playing all day Office to home, then work a little more We seldom take time to play Even animals play after their work is done Can't we look around and take a cue Driven, obsessed, myopic we've become Let's fly a kite for a bird's eye view Shall we?
We Are What We Lived A "Happy Home" grows happy adults. A "Miserable Home" grows miserable adults. A "Love-able Home" grows love-able adults. A "Hateful Home" grows hateful adults. A "Peaceful Home" grows peaceful adults. An "Angry Home" grows angry adults. A "Quiet Home" grows tranquil adults. A "Braying Home" grows braying adults A "Respectful Home" grows respectful adults. A "Ridiculing Home" grows ridiculing adults. An "Affectionate Home" grows affectionate adults. An "Indifferent Home" grows indifferent adults. A "Hopeful Home" grows hopeful adults. A "Pessimistic Home" grows pessimistic adults. "Children see…children do" When they grow up. The lessons taught at home are passed through generations. We must take time to evaluate, adjust, and reevaluate our homes. Peace begins right there…in each individual's heart. We are what we choose; so, choose wisely. It behooves us all to show: love, wisdom, and respect. Practice every good thing together as a family. Ourselves, our children, our homes can be heavenly. If we choose to work together, we can make it so. If not, dreadful despair will conquer too many souls. I say we shall succeed. We shall encourage one another. We shall work together for the good of all… Then, there will be joy once more upon the earth. Selah.
When your heart grows weaker and you no longer want to fight, And the hounds are howling, a struggle in the plight, Remember, Hope is in the future, the outlook is bright. When feelings of insecurity quickly begin to grow, And your spirit is at an all time low, consider this even though, Hope is in the future, this I do know. Sadness surrounds me, life is so unclear. My hands tremble and am always filled with fear, although I must adhere, Hope is in the future, the target is near. The army grows stronger little will to fight. Everyone has their own wrong and right, but I know with all my might, Hope is in the future, with faith not sight. Summer is not eternal winter will come. No mortal can comfort what damage has done. Hope is in the future through Christ God's son.
I was a mosser For many of years Hard manual labor Not what it appears Sphagnum moss a life For underprivileged some A way to make a living Not who you want to become Working grueling hours Amidst the dreadful heat No indoor air condition Gusts of wind your daily treat Dealing with the elements Biting insects and the rain No cover for protection Your body in constant strain Filling orders daily A deadline I must meet Exhausted and in pain As I try to beat the heat Money received was fair But not worth the endless pain Another day of misery With nothing left to gain So wise up I did An education I did receive Fleeing a "sweat shop" environment Body deterioration unable to retrieve Moving forward quickly Physical strength I now possess Exhausting hard manual labor Was never the key to my success © Stacy Lynn Stiles
Ok one poem, Then to work for me. I felt guilty this morning, Then I broke down, And washed my dishes. I thought I would drown. The plate wasn't so bad, Nor was the spoon, But the pan lid and pan, Sung a different tune. I got in there and did it, I was bound and determined. It took less than a minute, To my good fortune. It seemed an eternity, To get this job done, Is not where I wanted to be, It was not much fun. The water was so hot, That the grime couldn't riot, Next time You come over, Then you can try it.
Father,father, where are you?Can't you see what you put my mother through? Playing house was fun.Never realizing the cost of being the boss. What am I suppose to do? I'm just a teenager trying to graduate from high school;and now I have a baby on the way.Will I jump ship and say "get that baby out of my face?" Playing house was alot of fun. Now the real test has begun...I don't want to be a father who just gave seed .I want to be a daddy that takes care of his responsibilities. I'm a teenager that graduated from high school.I have no time to play around with the various crowds. I'm now college bound. I have to get this degree,because I have a mouth to feed.I have alot of needs myself . It's not easy you see! Now that I have a degree.I'm able to take of me and my baby.Playing house was alot of fun ; but the whole experience has made a man out of me.Don't be a father who just give seeds . Be a daddy that takes care of his responsibilities.
I would build you a glorious palace with ornamental roads and wondrous sculptures if I could, but I only have these two clumsy hands to work with. They are the best I have to offer you but these hands will work wonders if given the chance. The trouble is, I don't really know if I should have that chance. Sometimes you have to do the best with what you have to work with and these hands may accidentally destroy the very thing they are trying to make so beautiful for you.
Working seven days a week Has really worn me down Teaching children all day long Then teaching more at home I see them playing during recess Yes, I long to be set free too Merely a moment to gather my thoughts Swinging by myself would nicely do Or sliding down the stainless steel slide One time or maybe even two Just enough time to gather my wits Making the distinction on what to be true Tetherball is also a possibility But hard to play without being rough Basketball is calling my name more so One person playing is surely enough Perhaps I'll sit on the bench for a while Pondering my thoughts and my wits I guess I don't have to be in motion Time to play can be a quiet time to sit © Stacy Lynn Stiles
When I seek direction, my eyes search for You, Lord As I stumble and fall, my eyes search for You, Lord You are always there to lift me, from whence I fall Lord, You gently yet firmly guide me Though I know not what tomorrow brings I live in anticipation knowing You are in control For life is a great journey, with excitement As well as hard times Yet nothing falls short of Your plan For my benefit for You are forever faithful You make all things work for good To those that trust in You 'Round every corner You plant a blessing I, as Your child, do not go without Some blessings require work to receive, but nothing I am not able to do, according to Your will When I am loved by no one else on this earth I know that I am loved by You That's why my eyes search for You, Lord. They always search for You.
Why don't you trust Me? I hear the Father ask. Do you think I am such that I would lead you into an action and leave you? Don't you believe I am with you always – in everything you do? You aren't to be directed by others, but by ME! Their thoughts and feelings are not to control your walk, I AM! Stop reacting to their words, by stopping what I have put into action. To each I speak and to each I give direction, because they are each different now, does not mean they are not to be done. For they all work together as I have planned. If it is man who decides, then I am not in control, therefore I am not in it. Follow Me, not man. I am the one who loves you, it is I who desires all to dwell with Me in My kingdom. Some may have good intentions, but still falter. I falter not! I know exactly what I want done, I only want you to obey and be My tool in doing it. If you love Me, believe Me, I won't lead you far off and leave you. You are My child and I love you. Walk in faith, you claim you have it, now act on it! Walk with Me, I have control. Even if you take a turn in the wrong direction I am here to bring you back, or am I unable? Am I your God? Am I the one who created all? Beginning and end? If you believe that I am, then can't you believe that I can lead you back on the right road when you stray? I see the heart of man, I don't have to guess what he is inside. If he is for Me, then he can do anything, if he is not then I will stop him. I AM the judge, not man! As My child, do as I direct you to do, not faltering from others looks and remarks. I will care for them as I care for you. My work will be done! Let Me work through you, My child, let all hear of My love that they may be with Me in my kingdom as I want so.
Poet Lament Working out from the first line to the last this poem was it written on a day much like this one the theme and the rhyme scheme seems like one that eye have made every now and then eye go ahead and write them sure that it was not the same as one so smartly penned then the prose poem was created for people who make idea poems then write the feelings deep inside they do not always make a rhyme but always a lament Working back from the last line to the first
Just plain lazy Not hard to see No ambition Or drive for me Yawning very wide Need to get out of bed Stretching arms full length Pillow again greets my head Thinking to myself Get your lazy butt in gear The bills won't pay themselves The deadlines drawing near Rising again so slowly One foot on the floor Second right behind it Making it to the bedroom door I've made it to the bathroom I pull the shower curtain back Ice cold water hits my body Awaking this lazy attack Finished with the grooming Just need to find my shoes A lazy unmotivated crusader Working to pay my dues
Just write they say Of a bio or an article Poetry is just a hobby Nothing short of a miracle Just write your essays As you've always done They say they like my poetry But it's merely just for fun Just write your diary entries Continue to nourish your mind Your poetry is cute my dear But it's simply silly rhymes Just write they say And that's just what I'll do They blindly see the purpose And the power of a poetry debut © Stacy Lynn Stiles
The repeat offender sometimes wonder back yonder;the fonder memories of many moments of meditating to manipulate as well as dominate the offenses committed against thee. "To thee and only thee have I sinned against." I the repeat offender ,at times ponders why. Why can I not get it together ? A' huh Yes, I'm the repeat offender who mind wonders about the day of conquer. Again, I say again today I repeat the offense with so much intense, the sin of offense is so grest .This is how the repeat offender operates. Was the repeat offender a the perpetual praiser?What has you repeating the offense? Repent! Rewind and Redo.
I Need Thee for everything I do. Lord I commit my ways to you.In the mountain highs and in the valley lows it;s your grace and mercy that's helps me prepare for whatever I'm going through. I Need Thee: When the world is in despair.You comfort and care for me.When my family turns their back on me .It's your shoulders I depend on to be strong.When my friends are far few and in between.I continue to stand and refuse to sink in the sand wallowing in self pity and misery. I Need Thee : When my husband walk away from me and started another family . When he could not take care of the three he already got.Boy! did this make me hot.Like a cast iron skillet.I want to hit him with it.!!! I Need Thee: When I became open shame for everyone to blame about my own personal issues.Now my children look at me like I'm diseased; and they say I'm so hard to please.Ease all this confusion in my house today. I Need Thee: When I'm misunderstood and my emotions are out of control ; causing me to put everything on hold.Just to confront and deal with my x - husband and his non-support child issues.What is a sister to do? When the the father of my kids act like this.Here's a few things that I wanted to get off my chest today. I Need Thee: In everything I do I must commit my ways to you. I Need Thee.
I work with the dogs in the dirt .Sun up, sun down and man do I hurt due to working with the dogs in the dirt. Will there ever be a break for me?I'm not talking about the fantasy of hitting the New York State Lottery. Working to pay the rent for this little tent is just insane. I know there's a better place to rest to digest this thing called life. Living for the day that both of my ends meet.Then I can be a blessing to the less without any mess from the stress of those you know. Working with the dogs in the dirt has causes me many hurts that fertilized the growth potential, making me a powerful woman, you see. Working through the mess has really caused me to be bless. Yes there will be stress that will cause you to think you're not bless by the best.But after the stresse there's plenty of rest,so you can pass the next test. So work with the dogs in the dirt,because afer the pain ,there's so much gain in so many ways you see; and not in material things and money.It may seem kind of funny. I like being apart of God's wonderful army So work with the dogs in the dirt.So what, you got hurt .There's a healing that will cause a spiritual building in the inner man; it's all a part of God's strategy plan to defeat the enemy. Come on and be a part of God's wonderful army. So work with the dogs in the dirt.