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Introspection Business Poems | Introspection Poems About Business

These Introspection Business poems are examples of Introspection poems about Business. These are the best examples of Introspection Business poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Rhyme | |

pride

there across the wind
rides my silly pride

at times a sturdy arrow
at times a butterfly

how often i chose to follow
the path of the sturdy arrow
its landing was hard to find

however, when i chose to try
the path of the butterfly
never, was i too far behind


Details | Free verse | |

The Color Missing

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.’


Details | Acrostic | |

Reflections: Midlife Crisis

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
!!


Details | Concrete | |

HABIT

I'm often repeated and hardly defeated

Could be good, bad or ugly

it all depends on what you make of me

I run a full course when fully encrypted

I am Habit

 

I can make you soar sky high

As well as fuel your eyes to cry

Can lead you to great profit

or lay you down underneath

Its still me Habit

 

A friend to both the achiever and mediocre

The very small stream that makes a river

What's your flavour? I make and mar

Can keep you redundant or take you far

 

Call me Habit

Be firm with me and you'll achieve a great feat

Be easy with me and you'll be wasted six feet


Details | I do not know? | |

I Don't Care

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"


Details | Free verse | |

Life in Cubicle

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


Details | Couplet | |

The Library Man

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


Details | Rhyme | |

A Simple Lesson

My younger days, I had naught.
At least, that was what I thought.
Fame and riches, the goals I sought.
Wanting only things that could be bought.
Day after day, for them I fought;
And in the game, I was caught
In the cold and ruthless life I’d wrought.
 
As life progressed, I began to see
That not all things had price or fee,
The most beautiful things are truly free,
Hope and joy, compassion and empathy,
Someone to love and to love me.
And in my quiet moments, I began to plea;
And so, my true happiness came to be.
 
Others could share in this lesson too.
You can believe my words are true;
But it seems a lesson valued by few.
Instead of a life and memories you rue,
Reappraise your life and what you do.
It’s never too late to renew
Your life and be…….. a happier you. 


Details | Light Poetry | |

Clueless Job Applicant

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


Details | Free verse | |

The Glass Goddess

All around me
Great cities made of sand.
Green sky scrapers poke through the ground 
To thrive in life’s strict conditions
And melt away with the tide…

Great houses made of cards
Form lines, and tightrope walk existence,
Knowing that any moment, the wrong brick may fall
And buckle our world to its knees
As Mother Earth shouts Jenga! from the sidelines.

So while were here
We dance with the Glass Goddess 
Poised miles above reality,
Leaping over the heavens on our domino stilts-

We floor it in the sky
Living death in the fast lane, 
Seizing the day
Because any moment 
We could disappear 
Into



Jacob Reinhardt	
10/15/2013



Details | Ballad | |

Pipe Dreams!

In our lives filled with lofty goals,
We may reach for much beyond our means,
And as interest is piqued and grows,
We sell wisps of notions as our pipe dreams, 

Yet while news breaches concerned factions,
Of those who would off-hand discount our plan,
You may well consider these actions,
To be the final throes of a desperate man,

Watch me rush headlong at windmills,
Listen to my brave and salient battle cries, 
For with nothing I easily afford the shills,
This puffery of pipe dreams which may sink or rise,

Take account of what may be lost,
Incredible credible reputations,
So to me the onus is tossed,
And I afford pipe dream facilitations,

But as prospect becomes tangible,
And peppered pipe dreams begin to spin,
Overt liability then manageable,
The need for my Quixotic services thin,

The writing’s on the wall distinct and clear,
Yet I long for the impossible it seems,
Where I keep the company of the grand seer,
And remain the nexus of fantastic pipe dreams.

- Before I get too much bad press here I want you to know 
the term ‘Puffery’ means to build something up with flowery language.


Details | Verse | |

A BLOCKBUSTER A POETRY DIVA

A BLOCKBUSTER A POETRY DIVA!
Introduction please:
:
Through the eyes of a Spiritual Healer, sees Oblivion Dark Sunshine. Visionary to her purpose, her life dances. She is in search of the ultimate right; nom de plume is her name. Her favorite flower is daffodil that blows in the wind. Effortlessly she speaks without a written cue. She is a poet and philosopher of the truth. When prompted, she leaves in confidence that she can provide you with the needed assistance you requested. Never a task will she take that she cannot complete. She is integrity and your virtual reality. In the mind of her people, she is heard. Candor is her way of administration. Her outspokenness is loved by all that know her. However, her honesty can hurt. Therefore, she guards her words to be more professional. Oblivion Dark Sunshine is a versifier, rhymester, bard, well written and there is more not said. Her wordsmith is published and this is all known well. We enjoy her through social media. Her books should be all shelves. A Life Poet and Philosopher A BLOCKBUSTER Her Psalmist thumb is a gift from God. She shares this with the world through a poetic verse. She liberates herself from any form of poverty. She delineates a world that is free. Naturally, she writes about anything. Oblivion is the sunshine to those that life vents darkness. Strenuously, are her themes; insofar, topics with universal meanings. She provides dogma, philosophy of meaning and truths, to communities and neighborhoods . With candor, she speaks outspokenly to withstand negativity. Prolific to the cause, her name will be recognized systemically. She thrives on esteem, truth, and self-worth. Copiously, she strives to be heard. Social media is her teeming vehicle. Oblivion Dark Sunshine is a versifier, rhymester, bard, well written and there is more not said. Her wordsmith is published and this is all known well. We enjoy her through public mediums. Her books are poetic instruments. Blockbuster Life Poet and Philosopher Oblivion Dark Sunshine Poetry Diva
______________________________________________________|
Verlena S. Walker UPDATED SEPTEMBER 15, 2014!


Details | Free verse | |

Where The Next Dollar Will Come From

I'm worried where the next dollar will come from.
Will she ever arrive?
Will she ever show up?
But why am I worrying?
Stop it!
It's all in God's Great Hands!
It's all under God's control!
It's all within His plans!
It's all His
And He will provide
Because He is our Father!
He loves us!
It's all His!
Trust Him!
I know it's difficult;
He will not lead you wrong.
He knows where you need to go.
He knows what you need to endure.
It's all His plan.
It's all in His Hands!
Lay down your life;
Give the control.
He is in control!
Thank You Father!
Trust Him!
It will all be okay!
Trust Him!
Thank You God!
Thank You Jesus!
Thank You Holy Spirit!
I love You always!
I trust You always!
I trust You!
I trust You!
Yes, yes I do!
I trust You!
I love You!
Amen!


Details | Diminished Hexaverse | |

The Mother Of All Planets

<                             




    
                                           the             universe                    has
                                         physical                                      matter
                                        concentric           sphers                      with
                                       many         planets                                 stars
                                       and                   galaxies                             for
                                      o   b    s     e   r    v  a      t    i      o                 n
                                      text    ual               v     i      e                         w
                                      to             see                   big                      bang
                                      but                    t  o                   me            o u   r
                                      mother                                    e a r t                 h
                                      c     o      u     n    t   s      the      m    o      s        t

                                       f      o            r          i      t '    s           w h  a    t

                                        m                   a                   n                        y  
                                                    
                                         d            o                     c       a       l           l

                                            h
                                                                                                 e
                                                     o                    
                                                                         m
                                                    
Though this is a shape poem
it is written in diminished hexaverse lol


Details | Pantoum | |

The Blue Knight { Pantoum }

<                                the city he calls his home the beat
                                  waiting for his next dispatched calling
                                  badge gun club cuffs and his new partner
                                  murder's rapes invasion calls to him
                                  waiting for his next dispatched calling
                                  alley's streets underground he searches
                                  murder's rapes invasion calls to him
                                  doctors lawyers fast food he's ready
                                  waiting for his next dispatched calling
                                  badge gun club cuffs and his new partner
                                  alley's streets underground he searches
                                  the city he calls his home the beat




Tribute To 
Police Officers 



Entry For
Jarred Pickett's
Pantoum Contest
G.L. All
                                  


Details | Quatrain | |

wasted my time

No curse words allowed
are you confused, lost, ignorant
you are no artist, you have shunned art
and its true purpose
what is art? but an expression
the low and vile are the most potent
Did you forget, Emerson The Poet
He would call you "selfish and sensual"
"an umpire of taste"
"proof of the shallowness of the doctrine of beauty"
in a world of suffering, of loss
Art isnt happy, and flowers in the park
you, in your confusion, hide in the dark
hide any truths of pain and suffering
and by doing so you have lost your soul
You are only half a person
art is an expression of life and its hidden
what is in a word? something to hide from?
something to fear? to censor? to fight?
are you that ashamed of language?
honesty? expressions of shame?
You are no poet, no artist
you are no immortal, 
of course you are so cowardly and weak
you will hide from me, censor me,
avoid the truth, lie to the world
if you cant stomach a curse word
then you cant handle me 
any immortal would crush you
and leave you wounded
truly contemplating your life
breaking you open, forcing you alive
then, maybe then, you will have an emotion,
worthy of expression into art. 
but dont get mad at me, angry or hurt
You may just use a curse word


Details | Lyric | |

Abjectly Blind Even With The Perfect Sight

Hurrying and rushing even at eight, usually just to avoid been late. been doing this for a while and I am so accurate, the day I relent, my Boss Anger I activate, the beauty of Nature and sight seeing, no room to accommodate, so focused on my Job and nothing to motivate, through the Trolley Bus I get to the Office straight, none present yet, not even a mate. I'll sit alone for some minutes as I wait, and this I terribly hate, I do not even know for how long I can tolerate. Then one day, I deviated from my usual line. In the Bus, taking my time and making it mine, not giving a damn even if I reached at nine, watching the passers-by smile so fine, up the sky the Birds happily dine, moving in groups like flying swine. Just observing the 3 in 1 street lights was a sign that my Job intoxicated me like wine and all this while with a perfect sight, I've been blind. The Unique Victoria Bar, I've never seen. The "Dark-Ages" band, performing so obscene, showing their 'half-naked' dancing body is what I mean, and the Statue close to the Adidas Shop looks so lean. Aha! The writing on the building is just a signature and the photo on it gave a nice gesture, initially, it puzzled me like a difficult literature, but now the advert seems to be a blend of perfect mixture, as it reads "Gym with us and better your posture" Just understanding the popular Joke about the Pear, It is two round Toys I noticed and a bottom they share. Looking like one big Apple green and clear. Also enjoying the glaring Banks with the colors they wear, not observing all these is worse than to err, and making me feel Nature was never near, this is a burden I am about to bear. How on Earth can I explain this? It's so hurtful not experiencing such a bliss, crying intensely like my niece, is not enough justification for a 5 year-miss.


Details | I do not know? | |

1st world hypocrisy

We may have won the battle, but they never fought the war.

we are living in a rose tinted nation, 
Trying to live up to our own declarations.
Avoiding participation in our own rehabilitation.
Yet we still choose depression as our safety station.

We surround ourselve with distorted imagery.
Illusions and delusions of how we ought to be.
Fighting for democracy and unrealistic dreams of equality.
yet racism still a well known philosophy.

We place our goals just within our reach.
We use empty books to educate and teach.
We memorise our perfect speech, tick the box 'donate to aid relief'.
Yet obesity is our number one retreat.

We follow the rules on how to behave .
Make notes of what and to whom we gave.
Pray to god and you will be saved, for all our sins he did forgave.
yet a mortgage pays for the tombstone on our grave.

Our eyes have closed in this rose tinted nation.
As the economy rose we sacrificed our identification.
Lost our salvation in the walls of our self built concentration.
And we pity them with their lack of complication.


Details | Free verse | |

The Switch Up

Contractual agreements with publisher caused DELETION


~JSLambert


Details | Rhyme | |

Workplace Blues


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


Details | I do not know? | |

The Petty Posh-WahZee - Liberation and Ostentation



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.








Details | Blank verse | |

Biting my Tongue Again

My tongue
has no more blood; 
no tissue to slide through my teeth.

I have bitten my tongue
so long
my message deflates beneath.


©  2011  ~JSLambert Esquire


Details | Free verse | |

The Pristine Society

Contractual agreements with publisher caused DELETION

~JSLambert
© 2011 JSL


Details | Carpe Diem | |

Baptized In Equality

Contractual agreements with publisher caused DELETION


Details | Verse | |

The Paparazzi Quinzaine

<                                   paparazzi candid shots
                                     privacy act ruined ?
                                     big nuisance ?
                                     
                                     


Details | Free verse | |

Shameless Self-Promotion

Here they go again.
anything to win,
indulging
in shameless 
self-promotion.
layin’ it on thick, 
	makin’ sure it sticks,
		slappin’ it on like lotion.

“click my stuff,
and I’ll click yours too.
wanna feel like the best 
even though 
it ain’t true?”

back n’ forth complements
are so self defeating.
inflating other’s heads for praise 
is a blatant way
of cheating.

“do unto others”
but don’t lie, 
to boost their ego.
misleading them 
to raise their hopes 
should clearly be illegal.

no need to read 
a word
of their work
while scratching their backs 
bare.
skimmin’ 
	skippin’ 
		scannin’…
all’s fair
in tactical 
warfare.

poets thought to be adored 
while chewin’ truth’s gristle.
before you swallow,
broke a tooth that hurt
like a damn 
lit 
missile. 

feeding on lines 
with hidden agendas 
is worse
than bein’ ignored.
cuz’ when you find 
copy n’ pasted comments, 
your hopes 
are sadly floored.

how about 
reading and endorsing work
you actually enjoy,
instead of 
feedin’ folks a line of crap 
laced with praise 
and “atta-boys!”


Details | Enclosed Rhyme | |

They said her time had come- Death by insurance

They said her time had come
No place to run
No place to hide
No time for fun
Just an empty vessel inside
Going through the motions
Numb.
Overwhelming emotions
They said her time had come

They said her time had come
Evil coats
She wants to run
She desires to have fun
Not understanding why she can not play
It is now the month of May
Another denial letter
Another denial to get better
They said her time had come

They said her time had come
Why such looks of sorrow?
She doesn’t understand
For there is always tomorrow
Evil coats
She takes a breath
Smelling all of the flowers
No place to hide
Now literally an empty vessel inside
They said her time had come

Her time had come
Her bald head 
Just four years old
She looks to comfort from her mom and dad
Why do they look so sad?
Evil coats drag them away 
She never got that chance to go out and play
Beep. Beep. Beeep.. Bleeeeep….. 
The room floods with long white coats
Now to heaven this little girl floats
Her time had come

They said her time had come
She was just a name
No money, undeserving of fame
Easy for her to be denied
If only the suits had looked her in the eyes
Who is to blame? 
Sent to the free clinic
Now dead at four
No insurance
Ooops! What a shame…
She could have been saved
Now two parents at her grave
Once a happy family, now destroyed
Because THEY said her time had come


Details | Free verse | |

Money Hungry

People label others "money hungry"
when they demand what they have worked
for, unsavory characters have a way of turning
earned salaries into an ugly metaphor,

Money Hungry is best described when one
has a penchant to consume dollar bills,
for nutritional values or thrills,

The rich can be misconstrued as being
money hungry, for each deal they conduct
it requires money deliveries,

They only do philanthropic work for free,
and they too still demand a salary,
Therefore, if one is not craving money
for dietary requirements, then to call
them "money hungry" is pure nonsense.


Details | Limerick | |

A Little Bang

Mother Nature being supreme
Who beckons her violent scream?
Blind men lust for cash
Binding her into ash
The dust of kind Eden’s regime


Details | Rhyme | |

A Resolution for This time

A Resolution for This Time
(Based on Eccl. 3:1-15)
©2011 C. Brent Cloyd

I long to see the beauty of my time
Hear music from eternal bells that chime
Enjoy earth, till this good life I sever
Look toward heaven that last forever

I’ll grasp my part in each life occasion 
Banish thoughts and deeds of ill persuasion
Accept God’s design for each life season
Submit that I need not know His reason

I will celebrate life so wondrous born
Understand that death is not always scorn
Propagate goodness and wholeness in life
And uproot that which causes pain and strife

I’ll concede it’s sometimes proper to kill
But until convinced I’ll promote goodwill
Useless things I will tear down and destroy
Then plan to build, and work efforts deploy

I will comfort the hearts of those forlorn
Together find God’s healing as we mourn
Dare to dream, love, have hope, and take a chance
Embrace the moment, laugh, and learn to dance

I’ll speak with passion, let pieces scatter
Gather the fragments, avoid the chatter
Engage opinions, proceed with a shrug
When acceptable, open arms and hug

For things of value I’ll search at great cost
When searching is exhausted count it lost
When usefulness has ended, throw away
But don’t allow important things to stray

Now is the time to tear some things apart
Then with care I’ll mend and make a new start
Learn the lesson that silence is golden
Of words fitly said men are beholden

I pledge to hate what is cruel and unjust
Teach that kindness and fairness are a must
In war, anger and malice find release
But I’ll use my voice to encourage peace

Yesteryear’s events once again will be
To measure their success we wait and see
God’s deeds are good, lasting and without flaw
Of Him and His works I will gaze in awe.


Details | Free verse | |

Black Suits

Sharpened minds 
Expert calculators
Critical analyst 
Motionless elevator

Crisp reports
Excellent speech
Suits black 
Skin impeached

Strength is Black 
Brilliant talent 
Commitment unsurpassed 
Removed from ballot

Work most requested 
Quality Observations
Families sacrificed 
Review of course unexpected 

Sharpened suits
Crisp reputation 
Strength consistent 
Powerless nation


Details | Rhyme | |

THE CHOICE OF ONE'S HEART

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?


Details | Haiku | |

Free Labor for China

China accepted
free labor from Americans
to pay U.S. debt


Details | Haiku | |

no match for high-tech jobs

lower-skilled workers
are plentiful, but are no
match for high-tech jobs


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Second Fable

 The Second Fable 
The Second Fable 
 
The BusYness 
 
 
The Alcoholic boss: 
       The man was doing inventory when the lady called his namme. 
“Johnny what is wrong with you eye just looked out at the van? 
The tire is almost flat again eye just gave you a hundred dollars yesterday to get 
the tire fixed and eye remember giving you fifty just last week? You must have 
kept the money are you drinking now again?” 
The Alcoholic Worker: 
“Tilly you are mistaken the tire is not that low eye checked the gauge myself less 
than two hours ago. 
The receipt for the tireshop is still inside the till Tilly why do not you still believe 
me tell me Tilly how could eye get a receipt like that unless eye paid the bill?” 
The Alcoholic Worker: 
To Tilly:“Every now and then they do a poor poor job so eye will take the van back 
to the tire shop and have them check that tire again.” 

To ASIDE: The whiskey that eye bought with that old coots money is still in the 
center console eye have to drink it now today and she will knoe I'm drunk unless 
eye leave the van somewhere and say that it got stolen and the bad men beat me 
up. 
Narrator Charlax Android One Seven: 
The Johnny worker got in the van and drove to the center of a bridge he leaped 
from the bridge into the water down below with the whiskey in his hand and left 
the van in the center of the bridge the tire was now so low it was just flat. 
The Alcoholic Worker: 
Johnny to hisself: “The Tilly will believe me why should she doubt so much eye 
have to make this look good a lie is soon found out.” 
Narrator Charlax One Seven: 
Johnny took a rock of largesse size and hit himself more than three times hard 
upon his brow his forehead split wide open he looked like a beaten up man. 
He finished off the whiskey and walked somewhat surprised that his worthwhile 
plan had come to a fruition in his addled whiskey mind back to the sewing 
shoppe. 
 Listen as the woman talks to him. 

                        The Alcoholic Boss: 
“Before you say a word to me my alcoholic Johnny there was a Charlax sitting 
underneath the bridge playing games down in the water he loves a mermaid 
there and kisses all her hair. He saw you leave the van and leap into the water 
my friend MISS Tilly Two is bringing back the van for you.” 
“Now don't you feel so foolish the job was feeding you now you will look for 
someone else to tell your lies to rob them of there wealth to feed your alcoholic 
drive.” 


Details | Acrostic | |

BP: Brutal Performance

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!


Details | Haiku | |

hospitals must help

hospitals must help
all who need medical care--
insurance or not


Details | I do not know? | |

A Sand Box Experiment

Little Jenny was always found to be very prim and proper/
Outside reading her cook book by Betty Crocker/
Lazy Mary Sat on the lazy suzanne,
Butch Malone was their next of kin kissing cousin,
Along with Mary this made up the famed dirty dozen !
That sand box experiment really made us laugh/
Shortly after gym class,

Butch Malone along with the famed Benjamin Bankhead/
Jimmy Foley the local guitar player knew,
The pathway in life that we should choose/
Often he would be found taking a tremendous dump in the boy's urenil !

The path of least resistance sought about from a chosen few,

Often he would appear in shepherds clothing similar to little boy blue !

Playing guitar like he's going out of style !
That sandbox experience was designed to distract all the teacher's ?
We set up stuffed dummies just to look like real people,
Right underneath the bleacher's !

Old man Winter's who worked for Mr. Kazoo knew the score/
Very often he was being seen outside the local liqour store,
Lest I emplore,

The sand box experiment was in full swing on that one particuler day/

Butch Malone thought he was the real king ?
That was until Mrs. Maloney saw him through the window !
Next the time was drawing near/
Then so was that dinner bell,

Mrs. Maloney started talking to all those dummies,

Next thing you know she had tripped over little Johnny !
He was stuffed that was/
Flying three feet high in the air she had fell right on her face !
What a social disgrace !

Yet what had happened to Butch Malone ?
Like a little dog without his bone/
He pee pee'd his pants then cried all the way home !
The next day when Mrs. Maloney got her second wind/

She didn't even know where to begin/

For that little stunt the whole class was suspended for the day,
Yet for the gang including Butch Malone what did they say ?
All in all the sandbox experiment really did make their day !


Details | Rhyme | |

Leverage

Business before pleasure
Are you a big spender
Mortgaging your heart
For lustful endeavors
Straddling your bottom line
Leveraged with burgundy wine
She wants a quick merger
Before your numbers decline 


Details | Rhyme | |

LOCKED UP

all locked up, but without bars
eighty-plus in a room, the world so far
away from those we hold so dear
how the hell did I end up here

so much anger and so much strife
it's a whole different kind of life
one of sorrow and of pain
my life will never be the same

for all those I took for granted
who never left me alone and stranded
I'm sorry for the pain I put you through
I promise to make it up to you

behind these walls I've found a new home
with One who made me from up above
and if I will always keep Him near
I will never again end up back in here

LOCKED UP


Details | Rhyme | |

The Red View

Trust me when I tell you this I do not care to know what love is I will not satisfy your need into the abyss please know I am not perfect my advice to any man is move on along to fulfill your wish I am not worthy of even simple friendship I am not sad or needing this I am merely not good enough for you to hold me not because I am mad, or bad I want people to be happy and glad I am better off as I am, besides I like things like things less dramatic


Details | Free verse | |

Psychological grudge of sex and diamonds

Adoloscent confusion
whirlwhind of innocence
taken aback by the hindsight i have
the life i lived and what i know now

puberty
feelings
not knowing whats normal
not knowing who or what is getting the best of you
who to blame when you come unglued

sexual addictions
finaly clear
i miss myself
who i used to love dear
the one i didnt want transformed
into what i understood as an adult
unhealthy, abusive, mean, something to fear

that moment many caught in
stuck in
psychological psuedo science
of your psychological music store guinea pig
pure innocence turned into smut
the cycle continues

the need and desire to express oneself as an individual
as an adult
targeted
the media blamed
talk shown
sex and diamonds
even the rich in chains
i might be craving my own identity
of who i am going to become
the confusion of a future that i might not be
what i think i will be
the fear of what if
and that is the grudge we carry for soo long

puberty and confusion
nothing to do with attractions of what sexes you prefer
the armslengthing of what your society is keeping underneath
underneath the sex and diamonds
of this sinking ship
the one your on
you never let on
the cycle continues
name calling
lost friends
lower self westeem
searching for approval
inbetween the sheets
for this is adult hood
this is aldultry

love the sinner not the sin
innocence held hostage
who gets the blame
you get the blame
psychological grudge of sex and diamonds
kings and queens under your thumb
wont be long til the blind lead the blind
and were onto something else

craving approval
the feeling within needing to be identified known as me
i am not able to leave myself
and i wont
i will stand strong through this war
of psychological anarchy
til i set myself free

i may not know the future of the adult i may become
or the truth of everything in this world
the knowledge of how many people on this boat licking their wounds
by rubbing it in the same salts
and hurting eachother equals nothing solved

sex and diamonds of the media
target of puberty
babysitter of the media that never grew up
to transform into the prince from the frog
so back into the pond
back into the pond
psychological grudge of the masses we all victoms of
sexual addicts
craving to suppress our individuality
cigarettes and drug abuse
when all i wanted was to be me

psychological grudge of sex and diamonds
consumer of denying how unbelievable i be


Details | Free verse | |

My Business Is Today

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 


Details | Couplet | |

A LITTLE GIRL'S VIEW

 I was going on a vacation with my family one day,
 We thought we would head down Louisiana way.

 It was great being with my wife and daughter, 
 Until I saw a black bird coming out of the water.

 It struggled to get to the beach we were on,
 When we looked again, it seemed to be gone.

 But it was there, floundering on the beach,
 Along with the fish, shrimp, and other birds just out of reach.

 All of them were strewn on the beach so far,
 Each was deathly sick, and blackened like tar.

 The sand which I knew should have been pristine,
 But the vision we saw was a totally different thing.

 The waves that approached were black with goo,
 Carrying more dead and dying creatures too.

 "Can't we help them, Daddy?", my little girl said,
 "Not now, dear, as most of them will be dead"!

 "But why are they dying?", she said to me,
 How could I explain about the oil from BP?

 "There was an accident from an oil company's rig", said I,
 My little girl looked at the animals and began to cry.

 I tried to explain that man uses so much oil,
 He has to drill in the earth, sometimes in underwater soil.

 "Well then we need to stop it if the animals die!"
 "I know", I said, "We just haven't tried".

 "I will try harder to not use oil", she said,
 "Especially if so many pretty creatures will end up dead!"

 I held her close and wiped her tears,
 Knowing full well that she was wise beyond her years.

 "I'll try too", I said to her,
 Not wanting to see this again occur.

 So I've made a pact with myself to be,
 Less OIL dependent so that others may see.

 If I have to walk a little more than so be it,
 It's better than having to watch the death of an Egret.

 Pehaps we could all take a stance,
 And with Big Oil, not take the chance.

 For anytime man's greedy hand gets into the mix,
 Then the environment is always in for a fix.

 But we can change, adapt, and try to help out,
 By being less dependent of Big Oil's clout.

 We had to come home early because of the spill,
 Like most people, we tasted that bitter pill.

 So now on a crusade with my daughter I will go,
 Trying hard to advise others and put them in the know.

 Especially of what I have seen thru my little girl's eyes,
 Those sickening deaths under clear blue skies.

 I will do my best to get others to stop in their oily run,
 Not only from BP, but Shell, Citgo, Marathon, and Exxon!


Details | Light Poetry | |

Involuntary Retirement

Our world is embarking on a destination
that is odd and strange, everyone has
learned to fear age,

Corporations are obssessed with youthfulness
and the ability to be cute,

They are shoving capable people down the
garbage chute,

"Involuntary Retirement" is what it is silently 
called, the intelligent are overwhelmed and 
appalled, because the victims are being replaced
with people who lack quality and have no taste,

But as long as they are young and virile,
Good people are laid out to pasture as if
they were waste,

Why does our society abhor aging gracefully?
Is it because they are so desperately trying
to please "the establishment" and the advertisers
who are ardent worshippers of youngsters with fluff
and trimming, yet beneath the surface they are
shallow and clueless?


Details | Rhyme | |

ode underwater

I've got this listing, sinking feeling
that I owed most of my life to my bank.
Hands in the air, reaching for debt ceiling,
yet another fine mess, with no one to thank.

Guns all put down, the pen reigns mightier
can't fight the bank, let alone hit myself.
Contracts contracted, assurances flightier
seems the whole world's overextended itself.

I ode some words, I owed some dollars
'course everyone I talk to is in the same boat.
Can't answer my phone for collecting callers,
looking to ourselves, line of credit, to float.

I'm maxed they've determined, but I'm appealing
my mortgage, in arrears, beyond my credit score.
All my creditors say that defaulting is stealing
I gave a stone and blood, still they want more.

Seems to everyone, I owe myself, that's no joke
shouldn't be depressed, but maybe I oughter.
Dunno if I'm myself, or like all nations folk,
I've underwritten much of this ode underwater.

'course if I owe some B and B owes to C 
and C owes somebody else...well back to me,
then it seems that we all owe to each other,
our mountain of debt is brother to brother.

Would some rebalancing of our balance sheets
starve our children, kick us out into streets?
Maybe we should waive our bankruptcy hearing
and admit it's to life we're really endearing.

© Goode Guy 2011-06-10


Details | Haiku | |

Greedy

Hungry and famished
unsatiable desire.
Greed's grotesque face grins.


Details | I do not know? | |

I am not Jesus

What was up with all that *****with the keys?
The weed?

The transfer of seed?

Undone,
-Not unlike me

I come into a tree
And randomly free myself of my street

I come up on a beat 
And leak out my literal leaf

And ache at the pillory awaiting the generation of me

I don’t want nothin’ bad to happen
But what does one trigger hand have in battle?

I would rather the peace be kept
And my life be given instead

I would rather a dead man be kept
Than his resurrection come once again

I would hate heaven to see me
When I curse at people who don’t see me

I would adapt to anothers kin
If he didn’t feel the need to always resurrect them…


Details | Rhyme | |

drone cubical thoughts

My eyes are glazed over like krispy krèmes.  
How long can one person stare at the same screen?

My feet are limb like a long air plane ride.
How long can one person sit idly by?

My ears like potatoes, mash, all the sounds together
How long can one person listen as the noise gets duller and duller? 

My fingers repeatedly work like an assemble line.
How long can one person type the same thing waiting for the stop sign?

My mind is full of gloomy clouds in the sky.
How long can one person sit here and mentally die?

My life is just passing me by as if toothpaste out of the tube.
How long can one person site in this cube?  


Details | Sonnet | |

Aire Kingdom

The way stretches forward, the infinity path
Every shape well defined, by the certainty of math
Great ferns surround, curved in huge Fibonacci arcs
While trees, gods of forest, are discontinuities in bark

The air is still and it's gentle touch oddly cool
And a visiting writer would lie about a pool
And a nymph.  Or a vast Aire kingdom on high:
Beauty's present as the trees, though concealed from the sky

I followed her here, for where else would she dwell
Not hidden away in some black and white cell
The most perfect line, shaping me and my soul
Once my love now my breath, my quest takes a great toll

This cool jungle is our home as I try to define her:
I'm a textbook on the harm of obsession's spur.


Details | Free verse | |

success

i plucked the wing
of that damned thing
then waited for its fall
when it dropped
i picked it up
and taught it how to crawl
when its knees
began to bleed
it learned to walk upright

now

when it takes to the sky
no matter how high
it keeps the ground in sight 


Details | Free verse | |

Replacements

We make it in digital so that nothing real exists
Beyond the firey belly thought horizon
Far beyond the fraudulence of existence
Numbers and symbols form and this replaces our language
The heart is gone, nothing but rom and unread messages
Cold to the touch and anger replaces our moral ethics
We make it in stereo so that we know it is real
Speakers pounding to replace the hole where heart once filled
She heard it in waste, on repeat three times a day
But it all somehow remains meaningless
Going in and out of dead space
Barely recognizing a recognizeable face
It swells and then it quickly builds
In empty space it lives
Made toxic but sweeter still
In sync the destruction of hope and heart appear
But it is all squalor and sickness
Thus we make it in hologram so that we can feel 
One must erase or become deleted, otherwise it all becomes far too real
As a touching moment between friends turned lovers that will soon end
     Because in the end it is all truly insignificant
What seemed impromptu later is revealed as scheduled
Proven to be hoax, planned and illegitimate
As it is wise to look before one leaps
Before the fall even the strong can be deceived
As I when I believed you friend, when in truth you all were enemy
Made strong by my hope, my naivety
They told me it's ok to grieve
But before my grief could last too long they all abandoned me
With care their lies paved and stupidly along its path I came
     Because if one can't believe then how are we to have any faith?
So, they broadcast it in digital to make us into slaves
It's purchased and bartered, laundered and exchanged
In innocent blood they are all washed and bathed
Made pure by impure act and trade
Made in America and over time slowly degrades
We've all been duped, we've all been betrayed.


Details | Rhyme | |

Signed Sealed And Delivered

<                                        It's not my fault
                                          The world is made from different cults
                                          Economic woes
                                          Politicians saying no


                                          I'm not to blame
                                          When they represent us in such shame
                                          It's a capitol crime
                                          Like this rhythm and rhyme


                                          You have no proof
                                          That we're the ones that goofed
                                          We abide each law that been laid
                                          And to find out we've been played  


                                          I will show no shame
                                          And point at the ones to blame
                                          Get your acts together
                                          Sign bills with your quilled feathers  






Entry For 
Paula Swenson's
Four Sentences
GL All                           


Details | Free verse | |

We Are Not Artificial We Are Legion

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.


Details | Free verse | |

Tide black

Tide black
 
By the night they haul the black canisters, 
surreptitiously, stealthily they move
midst a moonless night with rabid dogs barking. 
They say take care. “Take care?” yes, the death is 
hot to handle, fragile; a leak may emit 
unstable danger.  “Take care?” yes, they will. 
With care they will throw the toxic wastes 
into the river flowing beside the place,
the factory, beside the barbwire fence.
Haul those poisons and dump them in the stream, 
caring not to spill on their own yard.

They cannot see 
the stream has changed 
the direction
it is coming towards
their home=

© 2009 - All Rights Reserved Kushal Poddar


Details | Light Poetry | |

Amplified Loudness

Women don't like to be boisterous or create attention to themselves,
However, when the male population try to stunt their growth
or treat them as if they are jokes,
The soft feminine ways are cast aside,
so that women can rejuvenate their dignity and pride,
It is the way of the world to treat some women as if they
are third class citizens or air headed vixens,
So, if their voices seem amplified they are just enunciating their
cause,
Our male dominated world doesn't mind belittling them causing 
them moments of awkward pauses and revolt,
Yet, when they try to stand up for themselves,
their agressors get shocked and jolted,
exclaiming they are insulted,
It doesn't matter that they try to reduce women
to shrinking violets, so they can maximize their control
as if they were submissive pets.


Details | I do not know? | |

Letter From The Unborn

GRANDMOTHER!  Wake up!  
Can’t you hear us crying?
We have no voice, yet we cry!

GRANDFATHER!  Wake up!  
Help us, we’re dying!
You have a choice, yet we die!

So goes the voice of the unborn generation…

Your corruption makes a violent disruption,
Your politicians are bullshit technicians,
Your pollution has no solution,
Your avarice is pervasive and
Your leaders are invasive!

GRANDMOTHER!  Wake up!

GRANDFATHER!  Wake up!

Stop your dismissive sighing!

Fascist federations,
Social degradations,
Despotic arrogations,
Wage slavery plantations,
Patriarchal castigations,
Psychopathic corporations,
Machiavellian machinations,
Oceans full of industrial defecations,
Meaningless fixations on television stations, and your
Diabolical relations in raped and pillaged nations
WILL NOT SUSTAIN THE UNBORN GENERATIONS!


Details | Free verse | |

My Business Is Today

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 


Details | Light Poetry | |

Calculated Traps

To control women
men feel they have
to be weakened,
brought down a few
notches so they can rule,
or at least feel cool,
"Calculated Traps" are set
to get women in compromising
positions, where they are
incapable of making healthy decisions,
Sometimes cheated out of their wordly
possessions, because salacious men have
dishonorable intentions.


Details | Free verse | |

Cocaine Clouds

Helicopter blades for a sweet serenade,
three-story castle made your arm sore when he paid,
had it all made,
never liked his gratification delayed.

Powdered gold he never touched it,
while under his fingers puppets getting busted,
paid in elevation,	
the higher they got the deeper his worth went.

Reclined in his French leather,
third child cried said he’d never met her,
legal ventures always getting better.
while his blood empire crumbled,
talking on TV how he feels humbled.

Street crook to an office-seat CEO,
left the neighborhood in tow,
left behind the friends and the blow,
the suit says genius worn by a criminal.



Details | Free verse | |

Business of a Pen

Is this the business of a pen? 
To drunkenly prod, be prodded to papers,
  an endless stream of albino acquaintances? The life of a slave child, 
  briefly met with brothers in arms
 only to be torn away from plastic home for a life of forced labor. A sorry fate,
  often discarded before its time, before the well is dry and off it goes 
  (to sleep?) beneath landfill sky. A surer destiny, 
   a designed purpose, that which all humans lack on this earth, this side of Jesus Christ.
Tell me, oh lord, of the ordained switch from quills to ballpoints.
Did you lament the gossiping gulls, who ‘doth protest too much’? 
What is even the business of a gull? What would it make of my drunken pen?
A nest, no doubt.


Details | Light Poetry | |

Simple Talk

An ivy league education doesn't necessarily guarantee 
riveting conversation, a person could try to dazzle others with big words
phrases and terminologies, yet, if the person listening was a lay man/woman
he/she would surely think, "What a silly-billy!"
A poor sod who felt he/she had to impress with extravagant words
and language, keeping life simple with poignant phrases and easy words,
creates less confusion and impropriety, folks will know who you are by your style 
and pedigree, there is no need to forge their hands with laudations of verbose
epitaphs.....Intelligence can be conveyed with common sense and  clever laughs.



Details | Lyric | |

Used

Used to look through child’s eyes
Used to stare at star ridden skies
Used to smile at silly sounds
Used to dream of the future’s bounds

Used to play in the thicket of my mind
Used to search for a place to hide
Used to act like story book heroes
Used to count from 100 back to zero

Used to hold my breath till my face was bright red
Used to believe all the words that everyone said
Used to want a big house and brand new car
Used to hope that I could someday set the bar

Used to use my imagination
Used to use that motivation
Now being used by my frustration
Of being used by my own generation

Used to... used to...
You know I used to...
Use it all without a thought
Used too... Used too...
We’re all being used too...
Bought and sold like an old iron pot
Used to... used to...
You know we all used to...
Dream our world would never rot
Used too... Used too...
It’s all being used too...
All our resources from bottom to top

Used to sit up all hours of the night
Used to believe that people were alright 
Used to think that we could still pull through
Used to think that everybody knew

Used to have faith in the ‘truth’
Used to see their words as proof
Used to hide these tears I’d cry
Used to hold my head up high

Used to think I had a grasp
Used to disguise myself with a plastic mask
Used to act like there was no problem
Used to hypocritically mock any and all of ‘em

Used to use their aspiration
Used to use their motivation
Now they use their investigation
To bind us to their administration

Used to... used to...
You know I used to...
Use it all without a thought
Used too... Used too...
We’re all being used too...
Bought and sold like an old iron pot
Used to... used to...
You know we all used to...
Dream our world would never rot
Used too... Used too...
It’s all being used too...
But when will this mass consumption ever stop?


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Transvestite Not Working.......

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.....


Details | Free verse | |

MY BIG BROTHER JOE

MY  BIG  BROTHER   JOE                  


Joe I’ve never been up to your standards, no potential as they say
Oh I went to university, all right, but didn’t get honours
Then started a small business but it was no great shakes
I went to teach in Africa but achieved no spectacular success
Married a girl I wanted, just kinda ordinary, no great beauty,
Got three kids, messy and costly; you stayed single, wise choice.
Always kinda idolized you, Joe, always talking about you, you know.


I’m a loser Joe, not like you. You would’ve been great with any choice.
You married a real beauty, she didn’t deserve you, so you split up
You could’ve  been  anything, but you rightly didn’t want to choose wrong
Man, you were wise - too many choices and anyone can easily make a slip
I'm sure you would’ve been valedictorian in the university,
It's obvious you could’ve gone much further in business than me 
And Africa would’ve been a cakewalk with your knowledge and skills.
When the guys from the old street get together, all we talk about
Is you and how cool you were, and what you did and said,
And how one day you’d be famous for something needing your potential.    


Details | Free verse | |

Yuppie Dragons and Paper Mountains

Climb mountains! 
Slay Dragons! 
That's what I did 
When I was a kid 
Now it's too much 
All this grownup stuff 
Amalgamations 
Corporations 
Business-like murder 
          under the guise of merger 
Micro-second chattel battles 
          waged on computer panels 
Flash before my eyes 
In a plate glass high-rise 

Now 

all my mountains are made of paper, and 
all my dragons wear ties


Details | Rhyme | |

I Lost the Bet : Where's my Jet ?

I Lost the Bet : Where's my Jet ?


I went to Vegas made a bet
  takin' the cab: lost my Jet!  
Went  to settle up the score
What else is new? Lost some more!  
Nor did Blackjack go my way, 
I should have left early that day! 
I went to gamble; lost my shirt 
 Life's a shamble; now eatin'dirt     
I had a pocket full of cash      
sure was gone in a flash! 
played the craps; now eatin' scraps  
thought I was lucky, but to my surprise
  wasn't 7 or 11, it was snake eyes!  
  I'm sorry to say, I took the bet
you know how it goes;it's Russian Roulette 
I rolled the dice; I didn't think twice   
 went to Vegas lost my dreams; 
didn't stay away from the slot machines 
 Now I  pray for my shattered life;  
should have played Bingo with my wife!



McCuen Copyright October 2008


Details | Free verse | |

Greed

The desire to obtain items which I don’t need A bulging wallet weighing down my back pocket The leather smooth against my fingers as I pull it out A crisp dollar bill The pungent ink stinging my nose


Details | Free verse | |

It's So Intoxicating {End Line Word}

fly above fruited grains my feathered ------- Friends
dip dive encircle the sun's orbage ------------- Don't
lusterious valleys and mountaintop ranges  --  Let
forbidden flights go un captured by other winged --- Friends
document footage of their performance ------- Drive
dedicated knowing their feeling a tad -----      Drunk




Tribute To Friends


Entry For Dana Ann Smith-Johnson's
End Line Words Contest


Details | Didactic | |

PUT SOMETHING IN THE BAG

as a little child whenever my mother and I went to the store
she would give me that lecture which I had to endure
"don't ask for nothing, don't touch nothing, be quiet and always stay near"
but as a child in a store this I did not wish to hear
eventually I would come to ask,"can I please put something in the bag?"

the marketing and business strategies of the advertising companies
are specifically designed to target the young demographic entity
sell to the youth, appeal to the young, make it fashionable for the teens
make them put something in the bag so the cash register can go cha-ching

but life is more than the lastest pair of jeans you want to style
it's about putting something in the bag that is worthwhile
a college degree, a scholarship, your faith in the Lord Christ
it's time to put something in the bag that will bring meaning to your life

to put in the bag the Gospel of Peace
and not those new Air Jordan's on your feet
to be outfitted in the Breastplate of Righteousness
and not the lastest Baby Phat designer dress
to pick up the Spirit of the Sword
and not that car you can barely afford
it's time to put something precious and special in the bag
and no longer to gravitate towards expensive designer rags

so put something in the bag, the bag that is your life
it's time to get the greatest gift and that is the Gospel of Jesus the Christ


Details | Rhyme | |

Blue Collar Blues

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


Details | Rhyme | |

BUSINESS

                                         If one forgets business
                                                loves the truth
                                           There's too business 
                                                is it not truth?









Note: I feel so in my life,
I feel business must rest on truth



Details | Rhyme | |

Conflicting Emotions

Conflicting emotions, twirl inside of me, emotions or anger, rage pain and 
insanity
Crying out for release, wondering when it will cease, this raging beast of 
conflicting emotions, no love potions, up and down on an emotional roller coaster
Feelings of helplessness and despair, am not aware of the many hats that 
I have to wear
Doing what I need to do to survive, just barely alive, does not understand the
contrivance of man, or woman, the sinister appearance of a friend, til the bitter 
end
Spread vicious lies and deceit, anger and hurt does not retreat, as I shake
my head in the sadness of despair
Do they care or have to bear the scars of the conflicting emotions, that are
left behind
Anger and rage barely un-controlled, trying to maintain a measure of composure,
exposure to the unbridled truth
Your varnished perception of the truth, may not be truth at all, but it's your call,
to help the fall, or downfall as it were to dissent, because you feel inferior
The hallowed walls of interior, the grappling to make yourself feel better, because
of your inadequacy, you'd have people believe that you are honest and true

Truth not in you, and you have no soul, that's why you are not whole,
and complete within yourself
To make you a better you, you try to be the un-doing of me, a portrayal of 
insufficiency
But I will never give in to the conflicting emotions, swirling around like a 
ravaging ocean
What you tried to do to me, knock me to my knees, and have me plead
trying to break me, while you do you, will never hold true, and you will one 
day rue, what you have spun together in your web of lies
I will not cry, nor will I die, I'll hold my head up high

You can never be the un-doing of me, You can never rattle my faith or shake my 
integrity, the way that you have thrust out your hand against me, you cannot
touch me, cause I am whole and you cannot touch my soul
For there is a power higher than you, and you will never break thru
The old adage still forever holds true, and you will one day know,
That  you will always reap what you sow


Details | Free verse | |

Target

In a football pitch,
Where player defends each other,
Trying to win
And admit fouls,
A goal is everyone’s target.
In our daily practice,
Achievement is all success,
A person commits crime,
When he founds that
His opponent is strong
Or clever than him.
A person’s defeat is 
A person‘s effort.


Details | I do not know? | |

Just One Moment

In just one moment I’ll bear my soul
Thoughts and conclusions for time to keep
Should peaceful sleep and silent dreams
Relieve us of our maladies 
In a moment by a moments’ decree

Incited by a restless yearning 
Though no magistrate of liturgy
To assign the words to ascend these delusions
And define these days with justification

For I’ve heard the hallowed voices of reason
This world means business 
No time for gleaming
Or the painful pondering of poets dreaming
Wearily wasting away their lives
With their wounded hearts and tired eyes

Unlike he who professes the business of business
Profanely pompous and white with wisdom
And as the world was spinning on your finger
Lives in the balance as you linger
My senses dulled by your acrid drone
Subjecting my scorn, biting my tongue 

But all of us and everyone   
Are like vessels scattering to open seas
With twisting wave and driving current
And reckless winds driving us farther
Away from where we want to be

But there, on the not so distant horizon
All our purpose and our destiny 
Revealed and confirmed in a single moment
In a moment by its’ own decree



Details | Blank verse | |

toil

Digital clock bomb ticking silence lower right angled forever is eight point five 
hours a day there toiled kempt invisible spent walking rigid funk robot wired 
loose framed shut felt mutt waste like glimpse circular window goldfish and city’s 
outline swept through wander inhale adjust inhale time square one infinite mess 
oh calculator sonata