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Narrative Work Poems | Narrative Poems About Work

These Narrative Work poems are examples of Narrative poems about Work. These are the best examples of Narrative Work poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Narrative | |

Sweet Purpose

I have come to the point of decision
And I have decided in favour of love

Wisdom is not solely measured by experience
But more by capacity for it
I have glimpsed deep into history
I have sieved through its successes 
...for the soundest advice I could find
Most profound I have received from the greatest achievers in its archives

I am a Student of Life
I am a Wordsmith of Optimism 
And I am a Mason of the Castles of Dreams
This Trinity of Purpose for me goes hand in hand, side by side
Each benefits the other
Issue is, they set me apart from the others

Here I am, young when I should be intoxicated with the fads of modernity
Fortified with skills that are eager to pay the ordinary wages 
But nay, I am not to be beleaguered 
I focus ahead to perceive the greater rewards at the summation of days
For I place most value on the greatest wealth: WISDOM and HAPPINESS

I have come to the point of decision
And I have decided in favour of love

I choose to commit my heart entirely
To the work I love best
For it is this calling that shall liberate the sanctity of my humanity
The world I dwell in fathoms not a shred of my quest
For it views life through the lenses of reality

True as it may be that my work suffices not to endow me 
...with common currency in these economic times
The rationale of my perception discerns far beyond this temporary mist

Let them roar their throats in laughter at my perceived stupidity
But it is their children and their children’s children that shall benefit most 
...From this shelter of thoughts and dreams that for them I build

I expect no immediate remuneration for my onerous undertaking
For I rationalize it as a selfless gift to humanity
Hence I shall tap deep within to give all can give
I am determined to build this Shelter of Thoughts and Dreams
I have the basic skills hence I commit my willingness and ingenuity
The Good Gods shall present the mortar and bricks

The fear of failure has been permanently exiled from boarding my being
As my eyes are fixated on the prize
I am ready to pay the price


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I Lost a Whole Weekend (Please Pardon My Rant)

I am your champion, I fight for your cause,
my love and devotion give some people pause.

When I saw you I knew you, just like with your dad.
I guess our deep happiness makes some people mad.

I work hard at my job, so that we can live,
and hear me now, son, when it's time to give,
I am the one who ups the amount,
I've done this more often than I can recount.

I also work so your dad will be covered,
for doctors and dentists and allergists and others,
and who do you think pushed him to go
to the skin doctor some two years ago?

From the moment I met you, you felt like my son,
but this is a battle that cannot be won.
When your dad and I married, I didn't steal him away,
he's just as devoted to you to this day.

I heard someone had told you that I was "controlling,"
(I can't even write this without my eyes rolling).
Who insisted your dad fly to LA to see you?
Who worked overtime to pay for this venue?

I encourage his freedom, I've not clipped his wings,
his happiness, above all, is the important-est thing.

I will not be silenced, nor be vilified,
and it just breaks my heart when you take HER side.

I am LOVING and GIVING and ALL THAT IS GOOD,
and I'm tired of being so misunderstood.

So, pardon my migraine, it wasn't intended,
my strength just gave out as your judgement descended.

I lost a whole weekend, I slept like the dead,
I was just too defeated to face down my dread.
I kinda' felt reality shatter, unsure what was real,
like in "Jacob's Ladder."

We're getting no younger, your father and I,
the older we get, the faster time flies.
I love you as if you were my own child,
I'll not carry this burden unreconciled.


©Danielle White


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HONOURABLE NATTY DREAD

FROM OUT OF THIS EARTH, IN EVERY GENERATION
MUST ARISE A MIGHTY PROPHET...
SO DON'T YOU HAVE NO FEAR, YOU HAVE DONE YOUR SHARE, YOU ARE THE HONOURABLE
NATTY DREAD.

YOU BROUGHT US OUT FROM IGNORANCE,
AND FOR THIS WE WILL THANK YOU HONESTLY.
ALTHOUGH WE KNOW THAT IT WAS WRITTEN IN THE BIBLE THAT MANY WOULD BE
CALLED,BUT ONLY FEW OF THEM WOULD BE CHOOSEN. 

ROBERT NESTA MARLEY, HE LIVED HIS LIFE FOR WE.
AND NOW WE HAVE GROWN, WE ARE THE SEEDS HE HAS SHOW, TILLED BY HIS IMPERIAL
MAGESTY. 
OH BROTHER BOB YOU WERE ONE.
YOU WORKED FROM DAWN TILL DAWN.
NOW IN THE PHYSICAL YOU HAVWE GONE, BUT IN THE SPIRIT YOU WILL CARRY ON,
THE WORKS OF MARCUS GARVEY.(CHORUS)

NOW BOB ARISE,
OPEN THY EYES.
BECAUSE WE WANT YOU TO KNOW, I 'n' I HAVE DISCOVERED YOUR FOE,
TRAMPLED BENEATH THY FEET.

SO IF YOUR TRODDING IN A STREET, 
OR IN A HIGH MOUNTAIN.
DON'T YOU HAVE NO SHAME, 
REGGAE MUSIC HAS BROUGHT YOU FAME, 
YOU ARE THE HONOURABLE NATTY DREAD.

(C)1982, 1996, 2006 ALBERT WILLIAMS


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The Pizza Place

What do you do when you walk into a Pizza Place? You order, wait at least 30 minutes, 
right?  Yes, and then the only other option is to listen, never dreaming you can also learn.

The delivery lady, a young, black who is exhausted bolts through the door carrying the same 
large pizza warmers that she left with an hour ago. Bedragled and void of smile, she stops at 
the counter saying,  "Whew,what a night I done had!"

"Girl, what chew doin back here? You still got dem pizzas? What happened"?

"It wuzn't on the boulevard. It was down dis gravel road and my car bumped all over all dem 
holes.  Dey ain't on the boulevard, dey ain't!  Aint no people dere"!

"Girl, Waz da matter wit you? I gave yew a map"!

"Yeah, I knowed but dey didn't have no money to pay me wit" 

"Girl, dey done paid by credit card. You gotta go back dere now!"

An older delivery man is sitting at a table waiting to pick up his order to deliver 
it "somewhere" and he shouts loud,  "Girl, Welcome to my world!" then he adds
"I gotta go pick up my daughter but if I can work an extra hour, I'll get a friend to pick her 
up."

OMG, I can feel their pain but do they really have any pain? This is a normal work week for 
them and they are grateful for that extra hour of work to get that pay. 
This is the real world. I don't live in the real world and I don't think that I ever did. 
Talk to me..




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Lobster fishing

                     Lobster Fishing

It was still dark when I arrived at five o’clock
I commenced the day by going to the wrong dock
I was a little concerned that I may be late
When I arrived they were still loading bait.

The boat started up with a thunderous sound
You must stay the channel so you don’t run a ground
Next you head into the safety of the bay
Everyone’s quiet with not much to say.

As we turn the corner the sun divides the sky and sea
A blend of orange, purple and blue explode in front of me
The sea starts to pick up and the boat gets tossed
A peace grows within all else is lost…

You pull the traps up in what’s called a set
You winch them on board to see what you get
My job was to restock the bait
It seemed kind of an ironic fate.

It was pretty hard work yet so much fun
Me, the boat, the sky and the sun
We had a pretty good catch and turned to go back
The auto pilot planned our course of attack

On the way in you wash down the boat
It cleaned up quite well with water and soap.
As I view around me as it was time to go
The sea put on its own picture show.

When we returned to the river the tide had come in
All of the lobsters had been placed into bins 
The boat was too tall to fit under the bridge
Like smooth sailing and then hitting a ridge.

We had to unload the boat so the catch wouldn’t be lost
Our pride and a little work was all that it cost
When we had finished it was time to rest
Having comfort in knowing we did our best.

We cleaned up and had dinner to end the day
This is my lobster tale of today
Everyone found humor in what I had to say
Then we said goodbye and went on our way.

When I got home I fell fast asleep
I dreamed of a bottom far too deep
It was a long day and I needed to rest
The lobster became someone else’s dinner guest.


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Jack and Jill

Jack and Jill went up the hill to fetch some pails of water
Jack climbed some trees while Jill was picking some pretty flowers

After some hours Jack realized that he was wasting time
So he called Jill to hurry up before ‘tis half past nine

So off they went to continue their very long journey
‘Till they passed by an old beggar and gave him some money

When they both reached the well Jack and Jill filled up their buckets
Near the well were some berries which they put in their pockets

When they reached home their momma and papa were so happy
For dinner they had meatballs and soup and chicken curry

 And five bags of bananas which a rich neighbor gave them
The good that you do to others will always be returned 


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ROAD TO FSLT

                                                                                                        written:may/30/2009
You must go,yes!
 
Go against slumber,
 
When even early birds ignore worms,
 
But the falling thorns purnish gurus
 
As the roaming anti-mother blanket kills faint gurulings.
 
Here we march marshals,
 
Along grumbling swift paces,we shall!
 
Walking-yarn appetises expectations,
 
Since many paths leads to the road.
 
Diverging to coverge,we must!
 
As swarming of the apocalyptic plague of the book,
 
Brushing along all along that belongs,
 
Into the shipping tower,we all plunge.
 
Now blinking sea-eyes of a naked mind,
 
All beholding spoons for a bloodless war.
 
Its too late to retrieve and hot to hold.
 
An often dreaded monster you face,
 
Must in "Government call" retire.
 
Yes! warm to hum,
 
like a soldier into war,
 
triumphant but not victorious.
 
When asked why? we say,
 
this is the ROAD TO FSLT.
 
                         BY:TUTUOLA MICHAEL


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My Boss - Part 1

I’m not sure I understand my boss
He does it all and credits me
He makes the plan, and says I did
He works the plan, and states it’s me
Writes the report, and crowns it mine
My mysterious Boss!

He called me today
And washed me with praise
Shocked, my boss seeks to know
How did you, modest, manage
The tusks of this beast alone?
With husky confidence
He shoots my pay and says
Measure for measure, my valet!
There’s more to come.

My Boss will burn it all
The mid night wick and moil on end 
First in, Last out. The office smells his balm
His cologne is everywhere
He sweats on the printer, the copier, and the phone
His ink flows, his paper is busy
The keyboard is worn, the letters have gone
He knows them by heart
ASDFGH and the index at J, he types
His seat sags and his elbow is coarse 
The backrest is new, he never rested
His fingerprints are faded
Filing, citing, binding, signing, sending, recalling, working
Reading, doing, redoing, searching, researching, working 
Calling, waiting, reminding, mending, thinking, working
Reviewing, checking, approving, panting, working
But he says I did, all he did
Great works, look and marvel!

Now Boss
They want me! Ready to bleed money
And charm me, they are down, bended knee
Abroad, the internationals are hinting
Aboard, the nationals are bidding
And Bored, the locals are winking
They want me! The postman is dizzy
My inbox congested and messengers grumbling  
The deeds have spoken

And my boss is depressed
Who shall do it, says he, all the work
His hand is calm, my shoulder feels it
Go my child, my boss, your meteor is bright
And never will it set.


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Marla

Marla was a friend of mine I knew from working at UTMB Over 10 years we worked together In the department of pathology Though we actually worked In two different locations there We still became pretty good friends Leaving me memories of times we shared Besides her friendship with me To all, Marla was very helpful She knew her job exceptionally well And was always professional Our department felt confident As we knew Marla was the one To work in an accurate manner And get any task completely done Marla attended a few SSP luncheons We would both go there to meet She came as my guest a few times And we would save each other a seat I’ll carry the memories of Marla With me throughout my living years I know that when it’s my time to go She’ll be saving a good seat for me up there Florence McMillian (Flo)


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Work is love made visible-w

I do not know what work there is as many feel
I have always worked with love and taste
In my teens my second home was Library
Reading Gulliver travels and one-act plays.

After getting my master’s degree in English
I got a job in the university campus as a lecturer
And never felt teaching as a work but joy there.
My house was where I could hear college bells.

My class-room lectures were for three hours
And reading at home for next day preparation.
I *dramatized great works for the college fine arts
Even I *directed those works in my spare times.

After retirement my sons look after my needs 
I enjoy looking after my needs for the fine arts.

                         *************  

*The title  of the poem is a famous
quote of Great Urdu Poet Khalil Zibran 

*P.S. I shall be posting some photographs of my activities in
France and England, 1989. in my blog shortly

====================================
Eighth place winner in
Contest: The work you do in Honor of Carolyn Devenshire


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My Boss - Part 2

God!
My ears are grander and eager
They eat a lot; infested with words
And I heard it all! Crystal clear
From masters of rumors, spot-on!
Bulls eye roomers

My new Boss is slow, slow down, and look
He wants you by froth or crook
You toil he soils; he, a spoiled vote
You strain, he claims; that way, he gains
He is strange, the new man
He works from a distance
Never there till there’s fire, when He
Comes to fire – Who lit the fire?

The workers have mastered his greetings
Happy new years – those are many
The workers bow, hug and pray 
Peace be with you, in case you go
It is okay, it is well, it is fine, they hiss
With swooning souls

They know him well
Quick to hire, quicker to fire
His pay is dear, his fire – dire 

He wants a worker
A worker who never swells
If he eats the venom, the Boss shall spill
But he is fine with words for now
God help me, I grapple
(Facing heaven – the right hand side – seeking the light) 
Should I or Should I not 
Leave this tenfold share, he wants to pay 
 


Details | Narrative | |

These Changing Times

(The rehab of a supervisor)

My eyes!  Saturated
with industrial crap, eventually
to intoxicate what’s left of one’s
bewildered brain.
My sight!  Shackled to the
delusion of corporate inconsistencies,
when leading one’s head through each
enigmatic juncture.
My ears!  Burn with unprincipled
mispronunciations, after boardroom
lampoons of delinquency miss the
mark, especially when delivered
within the queerness of each
insidious secretion, only then to be
viewed with suspicion, when basking
within the formulation of one’s own
comfort zone!
“Labeled” Non aspirant
when introduced to those
emerging within the endearment of
one’s company charter!
“Without ambition”
The blind clown of managerial youth
articulates, one score and five
not an option in this perfidious 
global arena.
Astute!  The annual assessment
in place, only to bolster
insecure managers.
A feedback, to aid keep one
in one’s place.
The first phase of corporate
correctiveness, complete with subtle
innuendoes.
Barriers!  Put in place to analyze
inflexible overtones, before pleading
guilty of being in possession of too 
many answers.
But alas!  Enlightenment validated, only
if, of a positive kind.
Ah!  Is this the answer! Positivity with
in this negative world, where truth has
lost its meaning in a labyrinth of
corporate “Lunacy?”
Seminar after seminar concoct to
intergrade somewhat aimlessly with
today’s intellect, corporate logic
filtered through hidden agenda, systems of
corrective surgery implanted, to keep
“Shop floor” On track.”
“I!  And some, from
a bygone era, ridiculed, insulted,
with in the classroom.”

Harry Horsman   for Chris D Aechtner contest
Let the mask fall













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Some Things To Consider....



Some time ago
A late night supper
Was set for me
Steaming dishes
Plates
Glasses
Solitary salt and pepper 
In silver trim
All waited for me
On white linen. 

Finished
I sat back 
Drink in hand
Remembering
Life takes many roads
Some twisted
Others narrow and endless
Signs 
Glowing in the night
Dot the lonely highway
Pointing in different directions.

Take nothing for granted
Until it’s done
Take what you need
And need what you take
Compromise
Half of something is better than all of nothing
Keep your life simple
You need only one home 
If you choose the monastic life
You need less than that 
Pace yourself
Only a reckless fool lives like
They’ll die tomorrow
No one can go back                                                                                                         
To start a new beginning
But everyone can start today                                                                                            
And make a new ending.

Keep your word
People work hard for their money
Count yours carefully
And spend it wisely
Love all
Trust few
Believe only God 
An enemy can never betray you
Only a friend can.

Your family is all you have
Provide for them
And they will stay with you.

Every mistake tells a story
Be willing to learn
Experience is hard to come by 
Book learning is good
But hard work and talent 
Will unlock your dreams.

In the quiet of night
When the beating of your pulse 
Is all you hear
Be honest 
Know the difference of
Following your heart 
And reading between the lines.


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RAMBLINGS

It was just another December day
Not cool yet - due to global warming they say
I’d taken leave and was feeling restless at home
A bit depressed and all alone
Stepping outdoors would do me good
Walking some miles would change my mood
As I stepped outside and turned right 
The sun was bright and gradually reaching its height
Past the kids I walked, who were out at play
And headed for the busy highway
Walking along the asphalt road
Past the hospital crowd of anxious faces of young and old
Crossing giant pillars rising from the ground
Supporting prefab blocks and tracks on which carriages would move around
Changing gradient and plunging underground
Carrying masses to work or passengers homeward bound 
Not finding my rhythm, I retraced my steps
And headed west, to a lake which comforted me in bygone days
The park around lay ravaged by our man made ways
Trees which survived and construction equipment were cloaked in a dusty haze
The Metro eventually would connect the city’s east to the west
For now, winter’s migratory birds have forsaken this haven of roost and rest
And we are anxiously awaiting this work to end
Allow time for Mother Nature to heal and mend 




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'Altered Needs'


He was all fired up he had it all figured out this was it, the end of us "I need my space" or so he thought until she entered the room dressed totally different to what is “her norm” a black dress with high heels legs that go on forever, he almost walked into the bathroom door mouth hanging open "Err did you go to work like that?" he asked “Yep of cause I did, I always do,"was her reply Uhm, it's the first time I see you dressed like that Nonchalantly while getting rid of her clothes she replied, “Well now if you more at home and less "at work" You’ll see me more in my work attire then in my pajamas” Gawking at her scanty underwear, He saw her swing her hips as she left the room Confucius Joe was left behind, feeling less desperate for space and more a need for closeness
©030620121735


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Racial Discrimination

"Do you know such a work place
with racial discrimination?"
Asked some homo sapiens  friends
who aren't so tall but with fair complexion.

By the way, you can make a guess,
if it is in your local place.
Maybe here, maybe there,
or perhaps abroad or somewhere else.

For this is an absolute experience,
for some who migrate in other places,
When it comes to work payment,
their compensation isn't that worth and fair.

Many are also asking questions,
like those with more responsibilities and work load.
"Why those workers with less but receive more?
Is it because of their color?"

However, "Yes" is isn't the answer,
especially that black and white are paid higher.
Then, they continue to wonder,
and make other presumptions on this matter.

"Aha! The sharpness of the nose maybe 
and not either based on work load or one's ability."
So, they think their presumption will come more precisely
to the fact or to the reality?

But, they thought they need not to waste their money
to plan with the doctor for a surgery.
Because if they do and they're getting low salary,
their employer may think they came from a well-to-do family.

It's really hard for them to think
what is the real gauge and basis.
"Is it the height or color of skin?
Aha! It's the color of the hair, they concluded finally.

So, those poor homo sapiens  friends
went to beauty parlor in nearby places.
They asked the beautician for help
and colored their hair brown, red, blond and some were golden.

After all of what they did, nothing had happened
because their reward from their effort and work is still the same.
So, they just kept calm and never  ever whine again,
realizing that racial discrimination really exists.


Hence, they work harder instead
and never ever I  heard their complains.
However, one of them had mention then
that they'll get more reward if they work  for God in Heaven.


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Slice and Dice Samurai

Holy Crap, good one Cowboy, this guy gives a whole new
meaning to the saying Slice and Dice. Ever see anything like
it Cowboy? naw not in my years as a Texas Ranger I never saw
anything like this. I've seen knife fights before but never as bad
as this one must have been, whoever done this was really pissed!

This was no knife fight ole buddy, this was done by a sword
a Katana to be precise. Used by Samurai Warriors in ancient
Japan. It was their method of death to their enemies. Seems 
to work real well by the looks of this guy. Any idea who he is Brick?
yep, names Mike " Mickey " Reubens  local drug dealer nasty guy too.

So this shadow bum figures to do a little execution work to help us 
out with the vermin of this city does he Brick? It do look like it 
Cowboy, I think we need to nab this creep before someone else 
gets food processed like this joker. Brick pulled the blanket back
over the stiff and something caught his eye on top the Bywater Bridge

Bill it's him. Just as Bill looked up the someone that caught Bricks eye
began to run, but not before Bill could see that the person was dressed
all in black and the only thing visible was his eyes. Let's go Bill we maybe
can nab this creep. Both cops started running for their cars, lets take
one car, that way if we catch up to him one of us can chase on foot.

Next thing Brick and Bill were of heading down Walters ave. Sirens blaring!



To be cont.


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The unforgettable rant from a drunk Lady contest

It is five minutes to two
I don’t know what to do
It looks like I'm the last person this evening before you close
But can I have another, and possibly a minute to expose
You must get this often you’re really sweet
Cute as a button, to bad I don’t cheat
You see I am procrastinating to get back to my house
I live with a man; no he is not my spouse
Five long years, do you care that I share
Oh hun, watch out a flies in your hair
But seriously, it’s bad; we fight all the time
I haven’t the courage to tell him I am sick of his kind
Do you have a woman? oh you must you’re so cute
So what do you think should I give him the boot?
Oh and work is getting to me, my boss in always on my case
Sir what’s your name again? you have a mighty fine face
Can I get one more? that will be all
Good thing I live down the block in case I trip and fall
Can I give you some advice; you should finish your degree
You don’t belong here at this hour serving me
Last year I went away, when I got back I caught him cheating
I gave this guy one serious beating
Oh look it is raining
Am I complaining?
I know it’s time to move on
But it’s hard when someone is finally gone
Do you work every night?
Could you lower the lights?
I am getting a headache
Last night I went to a wake
It was my Coworkers sons, girlfriends, Aunt,
I am sorry did I just go on a rant?
What are you doing after work?
You must think I am a jerk
OH NO here come the tears!!!
Sir, it’s been so many painful years,
Why can’t I just leave him?
What is wrong with me?
can I get just one more, my glass is empty,
Wait, what are you doing?
Is that coffee I smell brewing?
Are you shutting the bar down?
I see no one is around in this town,
OH no I just dropped the glass on the ground
Boy!!! that made a really loud sound
Let me pick that up
I’ll buy you a new cup
That’s all I seem to do, clean and cook,
I deserve better right? I read it in Dr.Phil's new book,
Sir, where are you going?
Did you tell me your name?
OH I don’t feel well, can I puke in your drain?
Much better, oops sorry, I made a mess
This was a new dress,
Thanks for listening,
Did I tell you you’re cute?
I bet you make a tone of loot
My man has no job
and he wonders why I'm a bitter snob
Ok Im leaving, its late my new friend,
what did you say your name was again?
I want your number, Let me get a pen
Oh no my purse fell all over the floor
Sir Sir, did you just slam the door?

“I am not a sir, I am a Woman, and you need to Go the hell Home!!! ”

By: SNK
Contest: 
wriiten 10/21/11


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Doctor Please! Part I

Doctor please, you must listen to me
Do you have the medicine to set me free
A day in my life you would not understand
The pain I must endure with all that's at hand
I didn't ask for the genetics that made me this way
Maybe there will be a cure for my disease one day
Until then I suffer from my head down to my toes
The kind of suffering no one else knows
The kind of suffering I keep to myself
Just playing the cards that I was dealt
A prisoner to my body with no relief
Causing those loving me much pain and grief
You don't understand and you never will
Doctor please I beg of you to give it a shot still

For the problems at hand I did not ask
It was all dumped in my lap with a blast
I'm no longer capable of work for hire
Because so very quickly do I get tired
To find a job letting me work when I can
Just doesn't fit into the employers plan
My stomach hurts I throw-up and can't eat
After so many days of it I get so very weak
Some days have mercy I feel better than most
But on a good day the pain is still no laugh or joke
My husband went and left me for a younger girl
When I got sick he thought he'd give her a whirl
The divorce then came soon after to follow
The pain from that it was hard to swalloiw
 Cont'd in Part II


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Purpose we are on earth

We are on earth to know To love Eternal God To do good according to His will And to go someday in heaven Human being means to come from Eternal God To go back to Eternal God The Truth is Our origins goes back farther than our parents Our parents are Eternal God’s tool For us to be on earth Sometimes we feel our Creator is near Sometimes we feel nothing at all So that we might find the way home Eternal God sent His Eternal Son Who freed us from sin Save us from the Eternal Father’s world destruction Eternal God, wanted to destroy the world Depressed People He created were sinning Eternal Son stopped Him Eternal Father is Yahweh Means “I AM” Eternal Son is Jesus Christ He is the Highest Priest of the Catholic or Roman Catholic Church We call Catholic priest, father Represent Father Christ He is the Highest Priest The Eternal Father is in Him Jesus Christ is Father Christ He is the way The Truth The Life 4092013


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Southern Summers

A two-story house stands silent,
no longer prideful of its bay window,
running water in the kitchen,
and a shower in the basement,
or of having erased memories
of shotgun houses with no heat
and back-yard water pumps.

Its blank windows stare 
onto fields where cotton once grew 
tall and green; where stinging dirt clods 
flew from our brother's straight arm, 
whose aim my sister and I could never match.

Its closed face once laughed
at red noses, dust-crusted necks, muscles 
tightening under skin worn waxed-paper thin 
by twelve-hour days under burning skies
and the bitter taste of ashes 
blown in by a greedy little weevil.

Our minds hung heavy 
with hard-packed dirt and skimpy crops
as our hoes wielded strength and hope, 
our toil fueled by dreams 
of emerald fields and rain-kissed rows,

our memories ripe with younger days
when we swam in creeks, bucketed 
minnows, and climbed trees 
in search of possum grapes.



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9-11: Never Forgotten

My friend Justin and I want to dedicate this poem to everyone in America and those from other countries who have died, and also to those that lost their loved ones on this most atrocious day 11 years ago.

-------------------------------------------

In the busy streets of New York City,
Many a passerby made their way to work
It was a typical work day—or so they thought
It was an unexpected day when a great tragedy would strike
Two of the city’s greatest towers would fall in humility
And along with them many wonderful families
Even others from different countries would lose a loved one
In just a matter of minutes, all of what was that typical work day
Became a nightmare—a terrorist’s delight

Everything in chaos and confusion
Cries all through the day and night
Many called their loved ones if they survived that long
Many panicked, but some were dead calm
Knowing there was no way out
They poured their hearts out on that last telephone call, their legacy born
The attackers thought they broke us!
But they failed—we didn’t break at all
Instead they brought us closer as a nation
And the people who lost their lives are with us always
Never forgotten in our minds and in our hearts


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Gypsies and Others

This happened many years ago
when I was just a child.
Dakota was still a frontier state
and considered somewhat wild.

The caravan of Gypsies came
going from here to there.
I never learned from whence they came
or where was their great somewhere.

They drove wagons pulled by horses
and needed a place to park.
They came in as the sun went down, 
to be settled before dark.

Many farmers said Gypsies were thieves
and would not let them stay.
My Daddy with his tender heart
could turn no one away.

He gave them the big pasture,
to park their horse drawn vans.
It looked like a little city
with the lights from the caravan.

My daddy didn’t let his girls
go near where the Gypsies park.
My brothers went, had fortunes told
and considered it a lark.

They never stole from Daddy,
he and the leader had a pact.
And I don’t know if they were thieves.
It wasn’t proven fact.

And then there were the working men
who walked our country lane.
We called them tramps, but they were men
who looked for work in vain. 

They came to work the harvests
and with harvesting all done,
they had no money to get home,
They walked from sun to sun.

Gypsies, tramps or common thieves,
my mama fed then all.
She said they were God’s children,
or some angels come to call.

She’d fix an over flowing plate
and set them on the stoop.
We never missed an egg or chicken
from our big chicken coop.

Written:  April 2012


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OUR THOUGHTS

Our Thoughts
Top 09/05/2010 16:12:54

What are you thinking?

    * Every thought we have creates the words we speak.
    * Every thought we have creates every action we take.
    * Every action we take creates a reaction.
    * Every thought, word, action, reaction, creates our lives!

How’s life?  Bad?  Fair?  Good?  Great?

Life should be great and can be great with the choices we make!  The main choice being our
choice of thoughts.  I live my life by thinking in a certain way, a thought pattern that
drives me to everything I desire in life, rather than everything I do not want.  

I formed a habit of thinking in a certain way.  It wasn’t easy but I never gave up!  I
used Willpower! If you work out in the gym it’s hard at first, but depending on your
desire, the more effort you put in, the bigger the results!  You realise what a wonderful
gift willpower is.  When used, one feels amazing!

The trouble is most of us do not have any goals in life, nothing to work towards, nothing
to use these amazing gifts we hold waiting to burst out - willpower, imagination,
intuition, perception… I could go on!  We are creative beings with minds to THINK!

Unfortunately, what we think about are our perceptions of what we see and hear in the
news, on the TV, etc. All the negativity putting us all into a state of fear.

Fear is debilitating, it throws barriers up to stop us from reaching our goals.

Goals are the keys to direction in life.  Without goals we are the sheep following the
masses, following others who never have a clue where they are going.  We lose faith.

Faith is believing!  We all seem to think that seeing is believing.  I see it as believing
in something so much that you make it happen.  Having faith and belief in oneself, holds
the truest wisdom to the ultimate power of success!

When we can cast away our fears and doubts, stand up and brush ourselves down when we have
knockbacks, only then, can we attain our goals.  Everyone passes failure on their way to
success, in fact look upon failure as just a way of telling you there is a better
direction for you just waiting around the corner.

I study the greatest philosophers and scientists in quantum physics, from the past to this
day.  They all agree on one thing - WE BECOME WHAT WE THINK ABOUT!

Sometimes we read or hear things that really ring home true…. My life has changed, how
about you?!!!!!

What are you thinking now?

Love


Simone Segal

http://thegiftifonlyyouknew.com


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a flood of swollen words

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


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AFRICA REVOLUTION 1

I believe my words meets you in good  state of mind
 and health
Do you believe africa can become a better continent?
 If so,how?
Young pepole must change their attitude__any part
 of their mindset holding them back!
If so,they should set goals to improve their behaviour
 and find solutions to challenges facing africa.
Young people must work twice as hard to make africa
 a better continent:
We have no time to waste but to make this continent
 that the LORD gave us a better place for
  future generations.
Our children must be able to hit the ground running
 to get somewhere meaningful.
We must work wholeheartedly in order to transform static
 policies since we got independence!
Africa should not be the only continent in the world where 
 outsiders find cheap commodities and slaves 
  to improve their economies!
That backwater theory must change,something beautiful 
 needs to happen very quickly!
Spectators have portrayed africa's reign as a missed
 opportunity to tackle problems___
A yawning rich-poor gap to stiffly politics
 and controversial policies__
That africa's collective leadership have been too timid 
 to implement good governance policies
  because of remote controlled influence!
Something wonderful must happen to our mindset__
Europe or America did not develop in one day!
And technology did not fall from heaven___
 but it was invented and innovated.
Where africa cannot create,let us buy advanced 
 green technology,
to make rock-solid industriariazation
I believe,africa's economy can grow to become among
 the world's largest economies___
And our per capita income can quituple!

chipepo lwele
*To my fellow africans both living in africa or outside africa


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gold medal

stand on the podium
stand up for the crowd
you gold medal coffee maker
you champion toll collector
you safety food inspector

take a bow and wave to the people
you road-line painter
you lifetime dishwasher
the national anthem plays a
glory hallelujah salute to you

you topflight tire changer
pump me up! fire ranger,
you game changer with 
a new world record
you photo-finish fish filleter
scaling new heights of

perfection, golden dusted
we salute and applaude you
sausage cooker, with mustard
you gold medal floured
over-night baker

you water quality tester
we know you do your best or
why else would we be standing
here now, drinkin' you in

all smiles and elation
our hometown creation
damn! we love you!
we cheer you, we pay homage
you achieve your promise

like sports men and women
who run like a train
who rise with the sun 
again, and again, and again
to test themselves 

to challange their body
the mettle of their soul
we exalt, we extol, 
we give a bouquet,
to those who excel and
grab gold medal victory
from the jaws of today

© Goode Guy 2012-08-06

a bit late in posting I'm afraid...


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The Song Of David

Enlighten days have past
He comes excel in all, so he thinks
"I am greater than man,
I know what ignorant man does not.
Come to me for knowledge unsurpassed!".
He points to the blue heaven,
"Where is thy wisdom? For I know all.
Where is thy command? That makes the ground shake
And brings forth water that lives?"

At the great gatherings,
He flocks the shepherds, blind, mute and deaf  
He answers to the multitude of questions
He asked the shepherds, "but what are thy questions?",
“I know not what do ask a man of your wisdom, but what  is a dream?
What is life?” asked the young herdsman.
"I know not what you speak of", said the Man.
"I only know what i can feel, touch and see"

"A dream is dream that passes us by, like gentle breeze of fresh spring.
Life holds all things mystery and doubts.
Shepherd knows to flock, not life or dreams".
"The shepherds are those who are humble, noble one", said the herdsman
"The blind cannot see, the mute cannot speak and the deaf cannot hear".
"Who are you preaching to? Silent and amaze, the man looks on.  

"If the blind could see you, 
They would say, 'look here is the man who tried to humble the blind
For they can see what others cannot,
If the mute could speak, they would humble you!
And if the deaf could hear they would shamed your wisdom".
"Was I a fool?" said the Man "or are you not that young herdsman?
Who knows nothing of life and passes his days tending the sheep's?
What could you learn from such simpleton life?"

"Life I live is simple indeed, 
No one knows that the shepherds are those who protects the weak"
"Nature is a friend of the shepherd; we sing the song of David
And rubs the olive oil to our young sheep, to keep away the flies".
Insulted, the man's fury turns over to the young herdsman
"Nature? Protect the weak? The song of David? Flies?
How can nature befriend a lonely shepherd? Protect who?
Song of David the Shepherd who became the king? 
What flies would harm the young flocks?"

The young herdsman smiled at the frown face of the man,
Left without a word
The blind, the mute and deaf ignored the man.
An unyielding shame kept the man humbled
He wonders why the young herdsman smiled about.
He came about a bridge and crossed the rocky roads
On the hill top he stood 
And saw the young herdsman singing the Song of David.


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TIME TO MOW

Now that the weather is getting warm
the grass is growing on this old farm
cutting the hedges and picking up leaves
tall, tall grass, as far as I can see

getting the lawn mower running just right
it's getting old and sometimes it's a fight
checking the oil and filling her up
may finish by evening is she runs alright



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Iris of Poetry

Introduction: We don't really think deep enough about "What A Poetry Actually Is", the
obvious question which we all know but don't think how to really elaborate on. We mostly
see the story, depth and the purpose it delivers. Well, here's one a little bit different
this time...



Poetry is the reflection of our lives like in the mirror,
It is something we can relate to and share.
It's our memories written in jumbled words,
It's like a song, with a meaning it holds.

A mere idea of our mystical lives,
Expressed in a way from deep inside
A way which only the heart can see,
A place where the eyes get cold-feet

The earnest truth and the sweetest lies,
It's all the irony that makes poetry so alive.


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The Titanic Saved My Life

Muscles bulging, sinews stretched, I know this ship inside out. Every rivet I have pounded is to help me to get out. This ship is new and will take me, to a life I am desperate for I hope we sail before the police come knocking at my door. I am free we have sailed, some of us to work on board the ship To keep an eye and maintain every shiny new little bit. I can breath they had missed me, I had made my escape No one could get me now the noose would not be my fate. This ship is huge, a floating city Titanic is her name. The guests aboard are rich and famous, but I’m not part of that game. I keep my head down, a few more days then I can start to live A life in New York I couldn’t wait, there is now no need to forgive. I felt a tremor, just a vibration, weird but not to worry Look at the faces of the black gang here, they are in no hurry. There is an order the ship is to turn, I can feel it but it is slow. On deck when I reach there, it looks as though there’s been snow. It’s now gone mid-night Aril Fifteen, things have gone from bad to worse I know that we are sinking, I really want to curse. I escaped the murder of my wife, who I found with other men I’ve taken another life and false name, to be on this ship again. I want to start a new life where no one looks for me. Now it looks like it will end, at the bottom of this freezing black sea. I crawl and scramble, with the rest gates are locked this cannot be Even the passengers are stuck; never mind the likes of me. I spy a life boat lowering, no one on board that I can see I take a leap into it, I pray I don’t miss and hit the sea. There’s a shout and shot as someone yells for me to leave Try and get me out, you’ll stand no chance; it will be for you that they grieve. The roar of this monster ship the cries and screams of all, The prow long gone under the aft raised high and then the aft does fall. The power of the sea is awesome as she devours this mighty ship The suction then the backwash, takes hold with a deathly grip She’s gone; the screams are dying down as the people sleep in death I pull aboard the living, my muscles weakening with every breath. The cold penetrates my brain but I work on endlessly Pulling the living and the dead; from this icebound deadly sea. We are rescued by the Carpathia, as she plucked us from our boat Blankets and food are handed out; someone wraps me in a coat. I am one of the survivors of that fateful night so long ago Running from killing my wife and her lover, but what face’s me I do not know.


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Sacrament of Baptism


The day of Pentecost, Church celebrated
Administered Holy Baptism
St. Peter declares
“Repent and be baptized in the name of Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of sins and receive the gift of the Holy Spirit”

The apostles offer baptism to anyone who believed in Fr. Christ Jesus
You will be saved
You and your household
St. Paul declared to his baptized and with all his family

Baptism is birth into the new life in Fr. Christ Jesus
In accordance with Lord God’s will
It is necessary for salvation
As the Church herself, we enter by Baptism

Baptismal grace includes forgiveness of original sin
Birth to a new life by man becomes an adopted son of the Father
A member of Fr. Christ
A temple of the Holy Spirit

Those who die for faith
 All those without knowing the Church under the inspiration of grace
Seek God sincerely, strive to fulfill his will
Can be saved even if they have not been baptize

With respect to children who have died without baptism
The Church invites us to trust in God’s mercy
The angel of Lord God said
The babies are safe in heaven

Written 09172012


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Remembering

 entering into the Sea of Words contest by Leighann Anderson    7/3/2011

Remembering...
I was 27 years old, and in my second year of working for my first real "grown
-up" 
job.  There is something powerful about wearing a pair of pressed matching scrubs, a 
name tag addressed by first name only, and a stethoscope around the neck( a lot 
heavier than the plastic one I was so accustomed to in my junior doctor kit.)  I 
thought I had the answer to any medical problem thrown my way...I was wrong.
In between bringing patients to their rooms, the receptionist, who is the spitting 
image of Barbie, minus the plastic legs, informed me I had a phone call, and is very 
important.
Being my first "personal" call at my job as a registered medical assistant, I 
immediately had to remove my "work hat" and don my "me hat", something I tend to 
lack some knowledge in.
My head overflowing with a thick fog, I try to navigate everything out before saying 
the usual greeting, to no avail.
My sweaty palm takes hold of the receiver and a voice I barely recognize mouths the 
appropriate greeting;
This is the phone call that would change my life forever...
I could sense through the black receiver plastered with a large "911" sticker, my 
mom has been crying for quite sometime.  Her trembling followed the same route I took home from work everyday after I left work and went 
home.  This is my safe haven, no one or nothing could harm me here.  This is home 
voice cracking the words of an accident.
With the word accident replaying over and over like a 33 vinyl record skipping at the 
best part of the song,  I hung up the phone.
I began to wipe the stream before it formed a puddle on the dirty blue carpet of the 
doctors office.
Coworkers hands patting me on the shoulder, back, hand and arm, I was taking on the role of the patient, with not a clue of what to say or do.
I got in my beat-up white Mazda 210, not sure where the road would lead me.  I followed the same route I took home from work everyday and went home.  This is my safe haven, no one or nothing could harm me here.  This is home sweet home, where
everything is so routine.  I so longed for that right now.  I pulled into the driveway, alone,  scared, confused, and filled with the question of why .   
I stumble to the front odor.   to be continued....


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Shogun Collab Bill's side 9 Richard Pickett Series

When the bus first got there, the Medic was tending to Brick and it took 
all of five minutes for that to turn around. Brick was tending to the nurse.  
No surprise, Bill thought to himself grinning. Girl never had a chance, and he laughed 
while walking back to Brick’s squad car. The blue lights were still bubbling over the 
top of the rig. Bill got in, called Brick’s twenty third to tell them to pick up his car at 
the bridge but Brick had already anticipated that and beat him to it. It came as no 
surprise to Bill. His detective buddy would never let pleasure interfere with his 
passion for police work and figured bill would do that.
     Bill drove the car back to the Bywater bridge where Bill’s own squad car was 
parked still reflecting swirling lights off the base of the bridge. The bus had picked 
up the body and was gone. Bill was still snooping around the crime scene twenty 
minutes later when another squad car dropped off a driver to pick up Brick’s car. Bill 
knew him as a player for the 21st precinct horseshoe team. “Hey John..”  “Hello 
Cowboy, good to see you back. You got a messy one goin’ here, I’m told.” 
“Yep, I reckon we do. It’s Brick’s case but I got a feeling I’ll be in on it before long if I 
don’t get fired first.” 
“Looks like you're already on it if you ask me...  Well I gotta run. Catch you on a 
make up game.” 
   All Bill found under the bridge, beside the usual out the car window trash, which 
could be construed to be evidence was a lady’s black high heeled shoe and a 
compact case containing blush and red lipstick. He threw them in an evidence bag to 
give to Brick later.
The speaker in his car was broadcasting “ one Victor seven, come in? One Victor 
seven come in?” ---“Yeah one Victor seven here. What is it Tom?”
“Uh, Lt Griggs wants to know what’s goin’ on. Seems a little upset. There’s talk you 
been joyriding in another precinct. Funny thing; he didn’t  know you were even 
signed in or back on duty. A minor detail.  I took care of it for you.”  “Thanks Tom, I 
owe you one.”
“He wants a written report on his desk of today’s goings on by knock off or there 
won’t be a knock off for ya. I stuck up for ya and told him I didn’t think you could 
write but he just gave me a dirty look. Anyway, you’ve been told.” “Okay, thanks 
Tom…... I think.” One Victor seven out. Bill headed back to the Thirty first to finish up 
the dreaded paper work  but first he’d call Brick to get their stories straight. (to be 
cont. on Richard Pickett soup site.)


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RED ENVELOPE


She is the doctor I worked with Petite, fast- moving lady with a zippy smile Presented me a bamboo plant With a red small envelope She wrote: "I chose to give you a bamboo plant Because it symbolizes Strength and flexibility Also great qualities in you. Thank you for your hard work Determination and commitment Our patients and staffs You are a very smart and strong person Capable of doing anything you want! Thank you and HAPPY HOLIDAYS!" One of the nicest heart- warmer gift I already opened before the 25th of December.


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Shogun Series Bill's side 11 Richard Pickett story

(Continued from Bill's side 10“)
     
    "Never  mind that. I know you well enough to know you know what you’re doing. 
Just stick with me and keep me informed especially on this one. I’ll give you as much 
leeway as I can. I got a hunch this case is going to be rough in more ways than 
one. Get me? I’ve been around a while. I didn’t come with this morning’s milk. The 
Captain and I already been discussing this one with the Commissioner. This 
vigilante thing is dangerous and already out of control.”
Bill still didn’t know where this was going but at least so far he hadn’t been 
demoted to walking a beat. His hope and nerve  was picking up. This Griggs guy 
was tough and had a rep for no bull. “Yeah, that’s wha ….”  
“Just shut up and listen, Sgt. Lipton. The Captain doesn’t want any part of that 
vigilante case. He wants a good record for an upcoming political agenda. That’s no 
secret. He doesn’t want anything to do with this case because he’s afraid it won’t 
get solved and his record will be stained with it.
You just stick to what you’re supposed to be doing and keep your ear to the 
ground. From experience I know that vigilante.. if it’s just one,... isn’t going to work 
out his issues in just one precinct. Keep in touch with what’s going on while you’re 
on and off duty. If you got to check something out off the cuff, you are to ask me 
first. Get it? Mums the word to the Captain. If he hears anything about our talk I’ll 
deny every bit of it and you’ll be left holding the bag. Do you get my drift here Sgt.? 
………  …    .. …. “Cat got your tongue?”
“No sir, I just…uh …yes sir I mean ….I get your drift.”
“Good , I enjoyed our conversation…now haven’t you got someplace to go? It’s 
knock off time. I believe your up for mounty duty tomorrow.”
“Yes, I believe I am. Is there anything else Lt Griggs?”
“Yes, close the door on your way out.” Bill took his hat up off his knee, stood up and 
walked the three steps to the door when Lt Griggs said without looking up from his 
paper work on his desk, “Bill…?
“Yes sir?”
“ Glad to have you back“, he said with a more relaxed tone, “Now get outa here.” 
And he went back to his case file.
Bill smiled, went to his office, traded his ball cap in for his Stetson and left the 
building mulling over what the Lt had and had not told him.   

(to be cont on Richard Pickett poetry site)



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Winter Sleep





My grandfather
Worked hard all his life
And died
When I was 
Away.

I remember him 
Sitting in the dark
By the kitchen stove
On cold winter nights 
Rubbing his calloused hands
Over and over again
Not saying a word 
To anyone
Listening to the voices on the outside
Whistling in the winter wind.

Once I walked 
In by mistake
Breaking the silence
I asked what he was thinking about
Nothing he said 
The his voice changed
Listen to me son
Everyone has a lesson
To learn in life
You’re young now
But later on
You’ll need to know
When to grab life
In your own two hands
And shake it
Until you get
What you want. 

The sudden anger 
In his voice
Startled me like a
Short fuse in the night
And I ran from him.


Grandfather didn’t work during winter
It was too cold he said
The need 
To work more 
To buy more
Never suited him.
What he needed was nearby
A pair of old work boots
A jacket carelessly slung
Over a chair
A pair of cotton twill pants from better days
And a bottle of brandy.

For him, winter was 
Meeting old friends
After Sunday Church
Congregating in the park
In small groups
Standing their ground 
Against all outsiders
On days when the snows receded
And winter’s end seemed close.

Some rested on canes
Others stood tall
Survivors of another winter
Arguing politics
Talking about this and that 
And how well their grown up children were doing. 

Life can go on without us
They seemed to say
To the empty park
And the gray skies
We will meet again one day
But for now 
We’ll stay here until the sun goes down 
And winter returns.






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nothing personal

nothing personal...

Summoned into the office
after years of daily labor
to hear something about something
of the new management personnel
"it's nothing personal" he heard,
"it's just, you know - business."

So the man, picked up his 
second amendment right, and 
gave his commercial opinion and,
a small caliber thought in his head.
"nothing personal boss man,
it's just recapitalized business" he said,
"and this is my arbitrated concession",
and turned and went to meet his new fate.

© Goode Guy 2013-07-09


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THAT SPECIAL ONE

Out there somehere, is a boss of greed
working that employee, and everyone sees
you will ride that willing horse to death
expecting more of them, than all the rest

seven days a week, you ride him hard
you say you need him, but he gets tired
day after day, the same old grind
another like him, will be hard to find

give praise, where praise is due
and maybe that work horse, will stay with you
don't take for granted he will always be there
why keep doing it, if your boss doesn't care


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Job Search..A job by itself ?

Out of university and I step in to a world of reality...
Job hunt and job search send me to insanity ...
Will I ever find one ? when,where and how
Will the lord above just tell me now!

My eyes long to see the post man.
Ears long for the telephone ring...
When will some one ever call me ?
My heart and soul sing...

Weeks, months..years pass by ...
Times flies,but no reply...
Frustration makes me rude and sly
With shame and anger,I cry!.

One day I meet an old pal at the bus stop..
Hey,I call out to him..where you going friend .?I ask..
Out to work says he...where and what work I wonder ?
JOBSEARCH! he says...Is'nt it a job all by itself...he winks!

Then comes an interview call...as usual I expect rejection..
At the interview they ask ...previous job experience ?
JOBSEARCH ! from pillar to post. I exclaim...without hesitation.
They say...bold and confident youth ..is our selection.!


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The Joy Of Killing Pt 1

Those whom are neglected by society and has particular broken heart, no family on their
side or better not needing anything, looking up high for answers and don't get a good
explanation why, those who love to humiliate and like to bully, when their tears fall one
dies, you all ignorant ways don't like the fact you are been watched, by those whom like
your tasty blood, the have a passion like you do, different, but same, we got to move on
and leave behind the world so dead, by the hands of a killer you shall sleep long waited
time...

You wake up early in early in the morning, you shower yourself of, a cup of coffee might
help you stand strong for the rest of the day, your soul companion gives you a good bye
kiss and your kids tells you how much they love you, love fuels your soul with strength,
now get on the car and go work for a lifetime, you get to work and get of the car last
saying a new day, a new story to tell, arriving to your office you with no offense step to
a tall man and spill his morning coffee on his shirt, you say im sorry but the man walks
away, now go to work, a beautiful day and lots to do, so the day comes to an end some how...

4:30pm, your going home, a long day of work did quite tired you, you drive home safely and
get there, open the door and your family with a smile says hello darling, how was your
day? Dinner is served, night is heavy, 10:00pm and you need to sleep, your partner hugs
you and soon kisses you, a romantic moment to go to the room and have a lovely scene for
what is to come, but at 11:00pm your tired, so you need to sleep, soon after your in
dreams, so a minute for your world to change...

(Help!) Your partner screams, soon a child screams same word, you stand up quick, heart
rushes, no gun, no knife, but you must help, get out the room and soon you see a splash of
blood on the wall in front of you, your child is dead, you run to the living room, your
partner is tied on the floor, bleeding deeply wounded, whats next and what happened? So
you get knockout, when you open your eyes your faithful partner is pale white, cant
scream, cant move, you are tied tight and mouth covered, hands and legs are quite sealed
together, you see this dark figure, a tall strong man stands in the corner, shadows cover
his identity, you desperately try to move and help but he soon closes by and beats you up,
with a saw on his hands treads you with your fellow companion, so he walks to your partner
and slice the neck, fade away to sleep...


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Calling Father

<
09132012

Eternal Father stepped down and gave His thrown to Eternal Son
We are on the New Testament with God the Son
Angel Gabriel told Mother Mary to name Him “Jesus”, when He was a Jew
He grew, started a Universal Church and was baptized by St. John the Baptist

Eternal Father, Yahweh gave Him a name of “Christ”
Apostle is a Priest
Eternal Son is the Apostle of Eternal Father
He is the Highest Priest of the Universal Church

Universal is Catholic or Roman Catholic Church
He didn’t need to be baptized
But He did anyway to for the righteous
He ordered 12 Apostles to preach His Gospel

Eternal Son is the Apostle of Eternal Father
Eternal Son is Father Christ
Father Christ is the Highest Priest of the Catholic or Roman Catholic Church
Should we not call Him “Father” for the righteous?

www.fatherchristdivinetruth.org >


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The flow of the day

Life doesn't stop, we all carry on, 
Riding along the flow of the day.
Before the dawn, You wake, your day has already begun.
There are children to hustle about the house, lets not forget some breakfast. 
The television tells you, it's the most important meal of the day, but you really haven't the time this morning, 'sorry'.

Ahhh, the kids are at school, time for your self for just five minutes.
But wait there's work to go to first. So off You go. And as it's only up the road you walk. But you walk fast because 
your favorite band are playing in your ears.
Great. Your all hot and bothered. Just enough time to powder your nose and such. Work is busy and mostly you like 
busy, it makes the day go faster and soon you can go home. What was that noise? You ask yourself .Then you 
realize it was your stomach telling you off for not eating breakfast....

Not to worry it'll soon be time for lunch. But this is the time when, the first thing you do when you get home is raid 
the fridge, because it takes too long to make a sandwich when your this hungry. Mmmmm, much better, and most 
refreshing, especially the coffee. Just as you take in the peace of the house and have taken off your shoes, you 
notice the clock chimes three!  Time to collect the lovely brood from school, so off You go.

Who can get a word in first about their day, everyone's so eager to tell one another. Even you, You need to say too. 
It's so nice to walk through the front door for the last time today, there's dinner to make before settling down, have 
a hug and watch television. All three fall asleep on you, and you're asleep with them too. Few! What a busy day, and 
just think you'll do it all again tomorrow.







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Balance Within

Introduction: Even if you're tied to barely holding on, your control over will power shall pull you up towards the truth and success. But only if you believe up to all, that it's stronger than what you could be - that's when you balance the fall...




You may get old
Your memories may drown,
But your soul won't get cold
And beliefs won't breakdown.

Just don't you let go
As you never know,
Things you seek for all your years
They could be in your back yard.

Find the truth within the lies,
Fight your pride to end this cry,
Trust your soul; open the door
Balance yourself and roll the stones.

The one's you heart will always stay
So don't throw life out your doorway,
Life's too short and it's too real
Sometimes it's hard to see and feel

That's how you live a life,
The risk that breaks you down to bits
Saves and brings you back alive,
That's what we call the gift of life.

No matter how rough things might get
We get rewards for the risks we take,
No matter how hard or sad
Learn and value what you have.

Though, too much pride will leave you dried
Don't let 'hopeless', be your life's stride,
None of this will you take to grave,
Your deeds will lay, only your pave.

As you breathe in and do breathe out,
Make each one profound
And stand your ground,
As lies are just the fantasy,
The truth - is your ecstasy
And this will forever be plain to see... 


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THE UNIONS : one for all and all for one

before labor unions came into existence businesses were run like monarchies
where those in positions of power treated the workers atrociously
no sick days, no overtime, no vactions and no minimum wage
and some work place conditions were worse than an animal's cage

but throught the grace of God and American ingenuity
the laborers joined together and the unions came to be
organized for the advancement of the shared interest of the work force
a confederation of laborers who at one time had no recourse
fired without cause, no work injury compensation and hardly a lunch hour
but with the labor unions now in place the workers have a measure of power
bargaining for health insurance and decent salaries
negotiating for better conditions and job security

thank God for the unions as collectively we band
one for all and all for one, united we now stand


Details | Narrative | |

The Four Winds of Christmas

 narrative 

Old Rinzburger was dead, 
only his wife has doubts. 
Death certificate had been signed.
by the banker, his best friend, 
He will soon take bids on his property.

An ancient once busy windmill 
dominates the old Rinzburger place
as a memory that comes and goes
in the mind of great-grandma.
Her dementia is getting worse.

Her only child and his wife, 
the last of the Rinzburgers,
have five grown daughters. 
Sixteen grands smile, recalling
Gram's special Christmas feasts.
	
Like the old family mill	
grandma is one of a kind;
she was driven by the wind
to serve her family and friends
especially during the holidays.

This Christmas may be their last 
Grandma has come as a guest.
Someone brought fried chicken,		
deep-fried from  KFC, with lots of
biscuits and gravy and sides.

The younger male cousins
brought sacks of White Castles,      
and mom picked up a couple of
salads from Kroger-deli
and Haagen-Dazs for dessert.

The winds of Christmas blow,
winds of the past, winds of the almost gone,
winds of the present, and future winds.
Will the Rinzburger fortune be lost;
will the family will drift apart?

Grandpa died last Christmas season
and the old windmill may succumb
but both memories will survive
being torn down, demolished.
Thoughtfully, a grandson asked:

"Why just tear it down? 
It would make a fantastic museum?
Folks could visit and learn so much
about their ancestors' way of life.
And another spoke up:

"We could remodel or modernize it.
Maybe build an addition with electric
power.  We could provide 
jobs for people at a new plant.
Still another grandchild said:

"My vote is to sell it, and donate the funds
to support medical research on
Alzheimer's.  Grandaddy 
would have done that for Gram."
Then Gram herself waved a fragile hand.

In one of her more lucid moments
she commended all their ideas
"The Rinzburger name may die
but your Grandpa's spirit lives strong."
He would be proud of all of you.


Two years down the road, Rinzburgers gather;
Gran left them on last Christmas Day.
Building and hiring for a new mill  - well-underway. 
The windmill stands in front - a museum.
AFA is slated to receive a generous yearly check
from the Rinzburger Winds of Christmas Fund.











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Trash

I need twelve and ten
welcome to the world    l  cumminity land          like i had a lond dream
and i dont know sweet     then genesis media    off the finish stoll
i be quoting nig all day long beg please loven of money not qurrel and member what to do to work another day colin no no no ready it is not please please I need drugs and  snuff went through the night sleep the number count zek and inquistion anything oppressed? labs ton me drop drop? 
I like my church oil
i woke up and laughing     stay alive a wrath news        chrsitna mute point!
this so be twelve friends balling        somatic revolution my friends
the name of god       perhaps two more quick       tell us a story 
perfection love work       dont drink cis term      just let me lay down
forn me lorn me sweet cool is myy ears darn.. and get naked non meditating wise excommunicated adonai plan reeds then flee from me cause you would go tell tell the whole hellis sweet Imish working world if you new mim.
then  Miss. come from and will all in locus that i got to teach myself and everthing but this is twelve mox sex mor of it. all right pills the pills more mins and the other stuff yes!


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Cookies of Love

Long time ago, in the little market of Venice, Allen and his mother had a little bakery.
Allen was only seventeen years old, his father was a baker and he had died because of illness.
Allen was only a reason for his mother to live life happily.

Both Allen and his mother were work hard and together so, they were famous as compare to
other bakeries in all over the market. Allen was always use to make heart shape on a
cookie, as he want to present his love daily to his mother.

One day, a young girl came at their doorsteps, she was looking very sick and poor, she
said that, my name is Olive, I have no one in the world, i am alone and very poor girl, i
want to work, please ma'am give me a job, i will do the best to serve your bakery. Allen's
mother was a kind lady, she agrees on her request, after that, Olive had very happy as she
found some open treasure. From the day, Olive started to work in their bakery as an assistant.

As same as Allen, Olive was also love to make heart shape on a cookie. By working
together, they were loving to each others. Allen's mother had known everything as she is a
mother and she was very happy because she observed that Allen have a family now.

Finally, Allan and Olive got married. After five years, Allen's mother had also died.
Allen had three children, two boys and one baby.

Now they are famous cookie bakers in all around the Venice city as, Allen & Olive cookies.


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A View of Foreclosure

I passed on the street I lived once, and saw the shame
Of history. The promise claimed by a second chance
Of hard work and misery, devastated by brinksters' game:
A stealth control of economy. Here a little light that lanced
The pupil of the eyes, pierced like a dagger in the heart
Here my house stood foreclosed. And on the wind the word
Was blame: we bought what we could not afford,
Now the people are victims twice, and we
Saddled with blame, find here no place for mercy.
A bitter gall of clever lies tearing us once more apart
Only the serpent streams here,  the grim grass grave heart 
Where giant trees suck water from the empty soil, and make
Great canopies, but we find no rest. For in these branches
The same snake drives little birds from their nest. Take
A picture here, where Eden turns to wilderness; traunches
Of golden sunlight poured upon dead bush and leaves
Look not for the medicinal herbs choked by barren trees,
No sprinkler runs, no pompous cougar fawns, truth grieves
Alone. The wasting rich pay less and gets more; he pleas
For more where the poor sweats still. A house to live
Is now conceived above our due deserve and means.
O buildings gaped your swinging doors, for pensive 
Blows the wind: I pray this debt forgive, let creditor cleans
The slate for all, so from a level field we start again.

The house was honest sweat, and love's fair dream
The deal they sold me was just a rotten scheme
For ambition shackled us with an existential chain
And we are left with nothing now but promises vain
And the tongue of politics whipping our backs again
Yet in this foreclosure's spate we only ask to work now
There is no milk to come by killing us, the economy's cow
O let there be compassion where greed betrayed good men
Or the shadow that falls on barren walls will bring a bitter end.


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Driven

I wandered around for years
in odds and ends
not knowing what to do with myself
unchartered territory just waiting for me
to discover
undecided in which way to go
open road to freedom
impulsive escape driven 
by extremes in nature
erratic in behavior
in the spur of the moment running away
from the mundane routine of existence.

A change of pace from everyday rat race
always in a hurry to get ahead
on the highway of life
searching for a new scenic route
through small towns and quaint little shops
worth exploring along side streets
with windows rolled down
music blasting out loud
enjoying the view of the countryside
a smile on my face feeling free
from the city lights of shades drawn in boredom.


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Just Like Me

Sometimes I like for my poems to tell a small story that occasionally has a twist at 
the ending.  You never know where my poems might lead until you've read further:


Just Like Me

Monday morning was gloomy and cold
A little like I 'd felt when I had been told
That you’d be leaving.
You had warned me that life would be like this
You had said the military wouldn’t end our bliss

The café was quiet and a static radio played
Nondescript music was just a noise that was made
Background for tears.
But I knew I had to be brave and strong for you
Yes, it was true, I knew what I was getting into.

You’d left the recruiting office when I'd first met you
It had started to rain and you pulled off a wet shoe
Hobbling into the cafe
I invited you over and we talked, I remember clearly
Smiling at how excited you were about the military.

Fluorescent lights were blinking a yellow-blue hue
We were sitting quietly now at that same table for two
Silence full of words.
I looked at you and wanted to say what I was thinking.
But distraction was made by the coffee cups clinking.

We drank our coffee and I wondered what to say
I couldn’t pretend that this was just another day.
The words spilled:
The house is way too quiet when you are gone
Promise me this time you won’t be gone so long.

You sighed deeply, pushed back your chair and stood
I thought how that uniform always makes you look good.
You grabbed the bill.
I know that I'm lucky to have such a wonderful life
Just as I know I’m lucky to have such a beautiful wife.

I knew that we’d have to leave and say goodbye
You paid the bill and I managed to hold my sigh
The ride was too short.
You said for me to take good care of our son
But it was getting late and you’d have to run

Kisses and hugs were over too way too quickly 
You waved goodbye and disappeared in a hurry.
One more time.
I sighed and drove off, remembering our embrace.
I picked up our son early so I could see your face.

We stopped at the store and picked up groceries
And on our way home he counted all the trees.
Every single one.
We ate dinner and he said as we watched the TV
Some day he hoped to be a great dad just like me.


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Making that Dime

3:30am its time to rise
3:30am gotta make that dime
Get up and stretch
Get coffee and dressed

Sit at my computer
Looking at the news
Seeing what the world is up to
While feeling nothing but blues

Gotta get lunch ready
Gotta get my posture ready
Grab my bag and head for the door
My time of freedom is now no more

Driving down the dark roads
Feeling the cool muggy breeze
Dodging all the pot holes
That you can hardly see

Pulling into the parking lot
Where sitting and waiting is due
Thinking of my freedom
Won't come until tw0.

Here comes my crew
My morning gang
The boss just pulled in
Now lets start the day

Clocking into the computer
Logging into the phone
I think of you my dear
Sitting home all alone

How I wish I could stay with you
How I wish we had more time
But someone has to get out there
And make that worthless dime

Sitting at my desk
Waiting for that tone
Dealing with these clients
That tend to call on my phone

Getting headaches from the obvious
Getting laughter from the old
Is it worth the aggravation
The boss seems to think so

Pushing through the day
Taking these calls
When will it get better
Its obvious not at all

Time is slowly dragging
How I am missing you
Can't wait to punch out
Can't wait to leave at two

Now its time to leave
Don't need to ask me twice
I'm happy with glee
This evening will be nice

Seeing you waiting for me
Brings a smile on my face
You give me a wonderful kiss
Saying it is worth the wait

Our evening is spent in bliss
For nothing seems amiss
Yet our time ends soon
And puts a damper on the mood

Time to get ready for bed
Thoughts running through my head
You lay beside me and give me that smirk
Knowing I'll have to get up and go to work

Its the same every day
Sometimes I wish we'd go away
But there is never the time
For I gotta make that dime

3:30am its time to rise
3:30am gotta make that dime.....


Details | Narrative | |

lurking to Lure

A successful man with a beautiful wife,
Three great kids, loves God and his life,
Goes into work every single day,
Loyal to his beliefs and makes an extraordinary pay,
He married real young, did the right thing,
A good looking man, always wearing his wedding ring,
But a woman in the office next door
Has been working late too and is looking to score,
She admires his rarity and is attracted to his charm,
Lately she has been asking for help on her assignments,
what’s the harm?
They have become friends and her luring begins,
This man doesn’t realize she has begun to infringe,
He has opened a door to the wrong kind,
While he's speaking his heart, she’s picking his mind,
Now instead of sharing his tension with his lovely mate,
He can’t wait to get to work and talk to her until late,
His wife can tell there’s been a shift in their communication,
She asks him if everything is alright with a slight hesitation,
But he quickly snaps back that he’s fine and just tired,
This happens all week and fights begin to transpire,
He begins to tell his venomous new pal,
She comforts him sweetly, she’s quite the gal,
Weeks later he comes to work stressed and depressed,
It happens to be the night she is wearing a silky black dress,
After going over a case accompanied with a few glasses of red wine,
Their relationship spirals into whats no longer benign,
In one evening everything this man has worked so hard for,
Vanishes, as his wife shows up with dinner 
and opens his office door.


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Forgotten Fate

Introduction: For those who’re wandering confused within the lost and found - seeking silence…


Truth be never futile Stay and see awhile, Call back your forgotten dreams And feel that frozen smile, Linger of Love be worth eternal wait; When the time is right – That verity we do still hate And later we wind up too late, There forth we get lost in fate We get bemused with our innate That we can’t still relate, Don’t take on yourself as bate As never you trust an inmate, Our hopes and thoughts they fade away And we just see closed gates, So slay the lies, dig up the truth Someday you shall find, your forgotten fate…


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Keanne

A blessing of heaven you are to me
Your little hands are like of angels

Your smile is my happiness
All through my day your in my heart

Though tired from work 
I would love to hug and kiss

You are my sunshine when
Everything turns to gray

Your cry is a sweet memory 
as I walk to my work everyday

I may be hurt but I would love to sing 
A lullaby for you my dear 

You are no different from others
I love you,despite everything they say

You are my precious baby 
Keanne, blessing to me.. 



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Fairy Tale - Part 3b

The blizzard had past and with it the wind. 
In the sunshine she surveyed the rubble. 
She thought she should smile 
But snow made her shiver 
And the dream felt like something she couldn’t not feel 
And the mailman and mama and girls in white dresses were too far away 
For her face to cause them discomfort disguised as disapproval.

So she didn’t smile 
And instead became aware 
That the snow lingering on her nose and eyelashes 
Was melting in streams down her cheeks.

If only, if only 
The voice still it beckoned

About to rise to continue her quest 
She heard a distant melody approaching 
Reedy, alto and minor 
Played by a stranger in a woolen poncho and leather boots 
Flanked by a hound in a jewel studded collar. 
As he neared, he slid the music maker into its holder on his belt, 
Commanded the hound be still, 
And proceeded to silently clean up the rubble 
As she sat watching with streams on her cheeks.

She heard the entreating ‘if only’ still calling 
But after some moments of watching him work 
In graceful, efficiency, completely soundless 
She no longer heeded the call 
And though it continued 
After a while 
She didn’t hear it at all.

He finished his work 
And drew from his pocket a perfectly soft bandana. 
With a tear in his eye 
And the gentlest of smiles 
Wiped the snow from her lashes. 
And gave her a rose. 
‘Here, love’

Looking down at the petals she saw a drop 
And in it her perfect reflection. 
With tears still streaming she felt like smiling. 
‘Thank you, love’ she said 
In her own voice 
The voice of her dream.


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Same Time, Same Place...

Same time
Same place
Different color
Of the face

Same K-12 system
Same university
Different college
Who gained 
More knowledge?
Who excelled?
Who got more hell?

Same job
Same school
Same students
Same certification
Different degrees

Who stayed 
On their knees?
Both of us
Yes, indeed.
Who achieved
Honestly?
Well let’s see!

Same time
Same place
Different color
Of the face
I made it 
By God’s grace
You are 
A Satanic disgrace.

You are the
Face of hateful
Hypocrisy
I settle for
None of your
Fallacious foolishness
And malicious mediocrity.

Same hometown
I keep it real
You a damn clown
God’s giving you 
A furious frown

A lazy witch
Probably born rich
Living in the sticks
Killing nature’s beauty
Just to get away
From people like me
An earth killer
Fake teacher
And destiny stealer
A true thriller
Makin fake scrilla

I worked hard
While you pressed bricks
Storing awful ATP
To make sure
You got the best of me
And people from my 
Community.

My adenosine triphosphate (ATP)
From glycolysis in my body
After Krebs cycle
Gives off love
While yours come
From hate
We’ve had the same bodily
Processes similar chemical makeup
I just have more melanin
You act the way you act 
Because of your grandfather’s mistakes

 I hate to see your fate 
If you don’t change
You are devilish
And deranged
I know your game
Your name
We’re from the same turf
You and I 
Are carbon based products
One tries hard daily to be just
So that when the minister
Says ashes to ashes
And dust to dust
That I get the reward
I deserve
You got my reward
I still work hard
My ATP
Detests the enemy

It ain’t fair 
That we walked in the same place
Respect you received
And hate slapped me in the face
Walking around with on your face
Did a dissertation on me
If I looked like you 
With my knowledge 
At 23 I would have had
Ten PhD’s.

Girl please you got the nasty woman disease
Get on your knees for the right reas’
Pray to us Jes’
Save me from being a real bigot
And sometimes on the sly
Help me to love you
And all your creatures
And accept diversity

You need help with that dirty blond hair
Pony tails sticking in the air
Depicting your true savior 
Not mine that will catch the one’s
That are still alive and in Him 
Up in the midair.


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Honor To Mother Mary is Honor To Father Christ

“The honor of the Mother reflects on Father Christ”
“Whatever honor and praise are given to the Mother bounces to the Son”
“The honor given to the Queen bestowed on the King”
The Honor we give to the Mother of the Lord was referred to Him Who was made incarnate (personified) of her”

The Mother is honored for her Son’s sake”
“Indeed in loving Mother Mary, we honor Eternal God”
“We will never love her as He loved her”
Father Christ was the first to honor her as His mother
“We will never be able to equal with which Father Christ loved her”

4202013


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Sylvan Summer Part III

The cracker crisp Maine air 
rang with the rooster’s revel.
Moving day, time to clean the hens shed.
Monstrous three story hatchery,
thousands of burnt umber; beauties a laying.

Lace edged bobby socks, red Keds, barrettes, T-shirt and short;
and off to the hen house, pony tail bouncing.
Immersed in the acrid reek of chicken dew;
Blue jean boys, Georgie, Wayne,
Aunt Donna and pony tail girl [me];
wade through squawk, cluck and doodle.

The boys were more than sure this
horrific chore was a girl eraser. 
The mini-men had their gawk, on not at all convinced that this
pretty little missy was going to be up for the job!
And up they must go all those dirty, sticky cluckers!
Up they all must go! Sunny side up!

Up, up, with the upside down
their pointer pecker heads darting 
toward gapes between sock and pantleg.
Their leathery legs in the grip of my small pink hands.
Winging flapping with all their might 
as if they could fly the three of us
right up the poop covered stairs!
 
Oh but these Betty's were beauties.
And each omelet laying pecker
each shoelace eating Grande dame,
each button and barrette bobbing bird
wings flapping, feathers flying,
with their deep brown questioning eyes
must be moved! UP, up to the second floor 
of that p-you-trfying hen house in the heat
of a windless Maine August.

“Get along with you three!”
Aunt Donna screams spitting feathers
above the din. “Up stairs 
with the whole damn lot of them!”

The boys eye the girl and with a tilt of my chin
and scrawny pecker in each diminutive hand;
we troop gingerly, over the sawdust refuse strewn floor,
up the tangled trio go, up!
For they weren't going to get rid of me that easily
no man ever has [wink].



*More for Carry and Bob


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Even My Kindly Donkeys Sleep

In the bitter cold of the foggy dawn
Their heels I hear on the hard grounds below
Yet another day to work it all 
And the master gets to keep all the pay
As obedient as they may
They head to where the heavy cart stays
Drums filled with pales of water
All day they pull this way and that way
Carts filled with heavy construction materials
Every day they pull this way and that way
Whether it rains or shines
Everyday there is load to be pulled away
Theirs is work bound by fate
Perhaps a purpose to which they were made
Perhaps a punishment of which they must pay
But what gives me a little comfort
Is that even they after a whole day of toil and pain
Even they get to spend some time away from the misery of the day
Even they get to dream of better days when heaven will employ their grace
The night is truly divine
For it offers my kindly donkeys an escape from the brutality of hard days without pay
The night offers my kindly donkeys escape from their enslaved ways


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THE WORKING DAY

Restless and consumed with dread I await the impending chimes.
Soulless and unrelenting they torture my weary senses.
Reluctant limbs melt away from the softness.
Contact with the harsh floor shocks me into motion.

Natures’ call is answered with rebellious eyes that defy the inevitable.
A whoosh of icy reality sends my breath hurtling towards the heavens.
Carefully pressed shirt and trousers donned, the imposing tie is tightened. 
The noose of formality and correctness takes its merciless hold.

Outside, the mischievous sun delights in my captivity.
In these claustrophobic office walls it finds a powerful ally to combat my sanity.
The knowing keys beat a mournful tune on my computer, as the solemn clock 
makes a funeral procession of the hours

The days end rides in like a triumphant warrior,
Releasing the shackles and oppression that have bound my spirit.
The welcoming bosom of my once estranged settee provides solace, though 
already swelling within, the realisation that tomorrow brings but more misery.


Details | Narrative | |

Strong echoes

In today’s highlight of moral issues:
leadership of clergy in the Catholic Church;
seen as a major backlog of urgent need
that came out as the topic of our guest speaker.

She’s Dr Monica Applewhite, Ph.D.
who presented ‘leadership’ in perspective
held at St Joseph’s Seminary in Yonkers;
a huge place, a better rendezvous for this event.

Understanding the problem as the first item
brought us to embrace our roles as priests;
safe environments for children and adolescents
the main issue that was explored and shared.

The clergy of the whole archdiocese of New York
attended this session with learning experience;
it’s an update and a continuing information
that Church’s faith points to a shared witness.

With the presence of our beloved Cardinal Egan
who reinforced a plea for his clergy people,
alertness, action, vigilance and prayer
that’s how he drew the process in a nutshell.

Defined as a decision that demands seriousness,
our discipleship, our calling entails commitment;
as men of God in service to his own people,
our priority has its share of sorrows and joys.

To battle with the world, the flesh and the devil,
these are constant forces, tests and trials;
involved in this journey of following him,
Christ, our model and source of inspiration.

The cost of discipleship for someone like me,
embraces situations common to all people
how life is being led with depth and allegiance;
a biblical portrait, a priority matter, that Christ –
has called me to commit and be of service.


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MI COMMA TO AMERICA ( I CAME TO AMERICA ))

Mi camma to America wid a passion for moni en fud,
hoppin to getta rich;
en de sai det gold is founda in striz!
Mi work en work ol dei
to meke sam dollar,
en mi eat pizza, en drink vino...
mi wanna be lika Al Pacino:
a famos attor ov Hollivud! 
En me veit too mani iers, to see butiful voman 
laika Marilin Monro...whata a fess!
Whata a bodi! A Diva so sexi!
En mi wanna be laika Valentino from Italia,
to sedus ol duh pritty ladi vid mi ciarma;
en ol kiss mi...O locki Casanova!  

English Translation:

I come to America with a passion for money and food,
hoping to get rich;
and they say that gold is found on streets!
I work and work all day
to make some dollar,
and I eat pizza and drink wine...
I would like to be like Al Pacino
a famous actor in Hollywood!
And I waited many years to see beautiful women
like Marilyn Monroe...what a face!
What a body! A Diva so sexy!
And I like to be like Valentino from Italy,
to seduce all the pretty ladies with my charm;
and they all kiss me...O lucky Casanova!!

Entered in Deborah's Gucci, " Dialects make the world go around "
(Brooklyn-Italian dialect)

Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci


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Breakthrough

narrative poem

It was in the eighth month of the eighth year,
when Ronald Reagan was the president.
I heard the loud noise of many actors -
singing praises, clapping hands in tribute.

Play-acting, cultured lines, memorized songs,
performed by men and women with spirit,
indistinguishable from sincere praise.
Drama entangled with reality.

It was the evening of the fourteenth day,
I had invited a friend out to eat.
A dinner and a show to celebrate
his retirement from a life of teaching.

The play was a homecooming church service;
it honored a pastor who was moving.
Though the scripted testimonies given
were heartfelt, I had a strange sensation. 

I kept seeing these same entertainers
in former plays as thieves and infidels.
Make-up, costumes, and props were authentic;
the audience applauded loud and long.

The next day, the fifteenth, was a Sunday.
Hurrying through breakfast, I bathed and donned
my good clothes and best vocabulary.
With Bible in hand, I  headed to church.

As always, the praise songs and the scripture
were rehearsed, the bulletin was the script.
The program even listed times for prayer;
I offered my largest bill to the plate.

My worship was a measly performance.
Should they had watched from a balcony pew,
my  non-church work friends would have seen me as -
simply another moonlighting actor.

At work last week, I had cussed out the boss.
Three of us sneaked out to last Thursday.
On occasion, I lie and scheme, even
have a good laugh at tasteless, raunchy jokes.

I left church and wandered in deepest thought,
pondering, “What is worship all about?”
An hour alone with God was revealing,
brooding o'er events of the past two days.

My pretense at worship,  hypocrisy,
disappointing to God, awkward for me.
A major breakthrough,  I just let God talk;
then I apologized for my play-acting.


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An Oarsman

not a captain or a first mate
but an oarsman was to be their fate
the oarsman row the ship along
either one , two  or hundreds strong

one small part of a large ship
but surly the tool that carries it
from sea to sea

an oarsman must have rhythm
and his back must be strong
his work is heavy laden 
and his toil is all day long

sometimes when they falter
they feel the lash of the whip
the weakness of an oarsman
may alter the course of the ship

the life of a slave. an intelegent animal
a God forsaken trade, 
reserved for the damnedable

the oarsman and his fate
though terrible and long
they did the work 
and sang the oarsman song

they pulled the oars 
moving the ship along
and all they get for thanks
was the lash of the whip

places were discovered
empires were built
the sea's goods were delivered
from oarsman driven ships

but still ; no thanks for the oarsman 
or slave. 
Has America ever thanked the slaves?
or the lowly who work the hardest and are
paid the least
are we still yet oarsmen


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In the eye of the beholder

As the climate for liturgical celebrations
evokes the sacredness of the most High,
God, who is the author of life and love,
enables everyone to give worship to him.

Where I usually go for the morning mass,
in the convent of the Presentation Sisters,
there’s a classical atmosphere of silence –
with depth and simplicity in their lifestyle.

They’ve gone to great lengths in their lives
as educators and pastoral associates in parishes;
their dedication to work up to the hilt 
inspires me to keep focused on my calling.

Indeed, their gifts have been shared to others,
with their availability and generosity;
steeped in their spirituality as religious
whose role leads to the church of the poor.

Like movements in most solo concertos,
dynamic account of virtuousic commands,
Sisters’ fervor and sense of performance
are fitting to highlight their wondrous styles.

Their devices have enhanced working with people,
through successes and failures, ups and down,
trudging through the mud of their angst and trials
still perseverance can be painted with predominance.

While most of them now are retired and aging,
I can still trace profiles of their great significance;
their inner identity mired with God’s beauty
a treasure for me, a centerpiece of religiosity.


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Old Fred

                         
Old Fred worked down at our local Wal Mort.
   Sometimes they had him greeting people, sometimes the old guy brought in 
shopping carts.
He always showed a smile a real friendly sort of guy.
   Fred really was too old to hold a job but thought he might give this a try.
Poor old guy really needed the extra money, his pension just wasn’t enough.
   What with trying to care for himself, Fred had to take care of his sick wife so 
things were tough.
Then they hired this young kid named Jason and put him over old Fred.
   Well old Fred didn’t mind but Jason let his position go to his head.
He was always lining poor old Fred out, Fred do this, Fred do that.
   It made me sick the way he treated the old guy, but that was Jason our little 
managers brat.
One day old Fred had had enough and he told the kid flat out.
   He said son I need this job there is no doubt.
But you and I are going to hook up and you’re not going to like this game I play.
   Best you leave me be I know my job that’s all I’ve got to say.
Well little Jason went and told his dad, and this is what his daddy said.
   Fred please come to my office, and this is what he told to Fred.
Fred I have to relieve you of the job you do.
    But I have something else for you.
Poor old Fred was in a daze.
    I ‘m making you my new personnel manager and it comes with a hefty raise.
The first job I’ve got for you to do is fire Jason, but sir Jason is your son.
    That’s alright you can hire him back and he can do the things you’ve done.
Well with a smile on his face old Fred turned and walked away.
   And under his breath There Is A God I think I heard him say.


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Bracing for survival

Walking with immigrants at the border
specifically between El Paso and Ciudad Juárez,
more Mexicans are constantly in quest
for jobs and other possibilities at hand.

  It’s the reality that has been going on
  while the government tries its best to help them;
  however, limited resources seem to be the problem
  with hardly enough industries that would employ them.

Known as Casa del Migrante for men and families
that provides services to these people
each day there’s always a new registration
mostly men who’re in search of an answer
jobs – the immediate reason for their coming.

  Their struggles to make ends meet
  their sorrow to experience grief
  their defeat to return home with nothingness
  and their faith being questioned ‘where is God’s grace?’

It’s like a bowl of queries and dissatisfactions
with all those problems and struggles;
life has become hard for them to handle
especially with tragedy or ailment in the family.

  Boldly complex and intertwined with faith
  life at the major crossroads aligned with sufferings;
  a compelling chunk of what it means to survive
  in this world where the forces of good and evil unfold.


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I. Father Byrd

Centuries ago
Father Byrd crossed those worn and weathered mounts
into the wild untamed unclaimed Mississippi River valley, settled down
and farmed land in a place that came to be called West Tennessee
sent grandsons off to Franklin to die for the Confederacy, sat and wept
and said not a word until he died of a broken heart, let his sons and 
their grandsons and their sons and their sons farm his acres 
‘til TVA took half of it, and the mechanized farmers across the Mississippi made 
the rest useless, and the next generation went off to college and got Yankee 
jobs, and 
his last son sat dying of Alzheimer’s in a Lay-Z-Boy in front of a TV screen, and 
his brother drove the last stake of barbed wire fencing into the ground,
rolled over and died of a heart attack in the timeless pasture.
He was eighty-six. I’m seventeen and here I sit
using my hands not for plowing, not for splitting logs,
not for shooting deer, not for fencing,
but for writing the history of those who came before
and made this life possible.


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Oil Field Trash

 What is oil field trash is the question most people ask.
   They’re a different breed of people, who take on dangerous tasks.
Very few old roughnecks still have all their fingers or their toes.
   It’s not uncommon for a broken bone or banged up nose.
I started young I worked real hard.
   This old worn out body is my final reward.
Money was great to say the least.
   We could dine like kings at a noble feast.
You had to have lived it, worked the patch.
   And hear that old driller holler, boy you better make em latch.
There was a brotherhood between the crews.
   The more experienced hands reaped the better dues.
The newest hand they call the worm.
   Some of their lingo, just an oil field term.
Once you become a certified member to this exclusive club.
     Everybody will know you at the local pub.
Those old drilling rigs come in all sizes and shapes.
   Once you get it in your blood, there is just no escape.
I don’t know if it’s an adrenaline rush that gets you all fired up.
   But it got me hooked when I was just a pup.
Right now all that is left or just memories and this hidden thought.
   Of a life gone by, and the lessons it taught.
I’m proud to have been one of the oil fields many elite.
   And I think being oil field trash is just pretty unique.
From the ground to the crown, from the rake to the brake.
   Getting old is possibly my worst mistake.


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I Did It All

It  is almost time, for fall to arrive,
I am so ready, been so hot, I almost
died.

Winter is my favorite, I love the snow,
don't get much here in the South, 
you know.

Been getting my wood, and stacking it high,
got the heater cleaned up, it is shining
so bright.

Finished painting my house, now that was 
a job, my hands are so sore, they ache,
and throb.

I cut my grass, and trimmed my trees, and
pulled dang weeds, Oh, my aching
knees.

I cut my finger, thinning Pompas grass,
that stuff is dangerous, it slices
like glass.

Tomorrow I'll weed eat, and start painting
my shop, I'm so tired now, about
ready to drop.

This is a typical day, for me at the ranch,
I need some rest, but there's not
a chance.

I will see you tomorrow, after a good nights
sleep, and with luck, and a miracle,
somebody may come rescue me.





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Coal Miners

From sun up to sun down, they worked all day,
but down in that hole they always slaved,
light from a lantern, is all they had,
and quitting time really made them glad.
Coal dust covered them from head to toe,
and year after year it hurt them so.
No other jobs could be found back then,
Sons, and fathers, enemy, and friend.
Safety standards were not the best back then,
time was the enemy of the coal miner men.
Cave-in's were common in that cold wet tomb,
where they spent their days, surrounded by gloom.
Times have changed, things are better today,
but still they are in danger, no matter how safe.

 


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Married Life

 
He comes home from work, tired and weary just needing to relax,
    When she starts fussing you don’t ever show you love me, catching all her 
flack. 
Honey he said I love you but I’m tired I had a hard day.
    She said at least you get out of the house that’s all I can say.
I don’t want to fight so won’t you please just leave me alone,
     She says maybe you’ll be happier when I pack up and out of your life I’ll be 
gone.
He knew he couldn’t win ,
    Not with the mood she was in.
So he said baby let me drink this one beer and I will shower and take you to town,
     She said well hurry up, the whole time glaring at him showing her frown.
To town they headed and he asked where she would like to go,
     How about lets take in a restaurant and later a show?
Where would you like to dine was his next reply?
     She looked at him and started to say something but instead began to cry.
She said it’s over you don’t love me so why do you pretend?
     What did I do he asked, I wasn’t trying to offend?
Just work and come home it’s always the same,
      While I sit home all alone just wondering what happened to loves flame.
She said I fix myself up nice in hopes that you might see.
      But you pay more attention to the television than you do to me.
She said it hurts and I think you’re a jerk.
      You put me second to things including your work.
Well he stops the car and gently wipes the tears from her eyes.
      And says I’m sorry please don’t cry.
Well they share a long embrace and he drives away looking now for a motel.
      And the rest of the story is personal not needing to tell.
          Goodnight All…..?


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Battle Weary

Iraqi Defense tends to be hotter than most
The heat a charater study in personal relationships
Sweat is the great equalizer
I put Ahmed in the picture for a portrait
For his mother
I ask, Ahmed, when were you at your most violent?
As he thinks, I snap photos, winder humming patiently
Catching his face in pensive reorganization
Were you justified? Shutter slamming in response
To facial compliance
Black and white rendering, he loves the pics
I pick the one his mother would love.
She loves them all
Remembers when Russians used to come by her stall
At the bazzar
Now it's empty
Shes at home, waiting for crazies..


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Roughneckin

      
I worked on drilling rigs for the better part of thirty years.
   I sweated buckets of sweat while my wife cried barrels of tears.
The work was seldom easy and to say it was safe would be a lie.
   The more dangerous the job the higher the high.
You either loved the job or you hated it.
    I know I’ve seen a million or more quit.
The money was good but it was more than that.
    It was the challenge to those men in their steel toes and hard hats.
I’ve seen men killed, crippled, and maimed.
    There is something that gets in your spirit that cannot be tamed.
Drilling holes in the ground to earn a days pay.
    Sounds pretty easy I’ve heard many men say.
Till you get them on location and the iron starts to rattle
   Seen a many tuck tail and run watched them skeedaddle.
There’s a pusher on every rig, dope comes in five gallon buckets, and they’ve got 
joints that are thirty foot long.
   It’s not what you are thinking so don’t get me wrong.
It’s kinda like the Marine Corp you be the best that you can be.
   That’s kinda the way it is to roughneck you try to shine so all can see.
It’s a place where rules are few and there is only one boss.
   You learn to follow those rules or you find people get hurt or you might even 
witness a tragic loss.
I sure miss those days but they are mostly for the young to do.
   It’s Hell getting old but it’s something we all must go through.
               


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Hunting

The season for hunting is near at hand,
look at this mess lying all around.
Camping supplies, the food bank full,
and all those blankets made from itchy wool.
New tires on the truck, and the four wheeler too,
I watch so helpless, what can I do?
Pitching the tent out in the yard,
checking for leaks, do you ever get tired?
Insulated underwear, about three different kinds,
cold, colder, freezing, you are spending every dime.
Now it's the coveralls, run back to the store,
hunting to me, is more like a chore.


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Yard Sales

We started the day bringing stuff out,
an old worn out chair, and a matching couch.
Stuff we don't use, and stuff we don't like,
those old rusty wheel covers, and that bent up bike.
Two broken lamps, that have no shades,
and a table with scratches, you made.
Clothes by the tons, who wore them all,
some too tight, and some too short.
Look at the shoes, did I really wear them all,
ugly is not the word, I really had gall.
Pots, and pans, ugh, they are a mess,
I need new ones, I must confess.
Left over junk, from family, and friends,
always at my house, they seem to land.
Yard sales are work, but I love them, I do,
maybe next week, I'll be seeing you.


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Back To Work

I think it is time for me to go back to work,
been here too long, sorta feeling stuck.

I had to take a little time for myself,
even thought about professional help.

Under control, everything seems right now,
but for two years now, I put everything down.

I am really excited at the thought of work,
Lord knows I need the money so much.

Husband is weary about this move,
but I really need to get back in the groove.

If I'm not here, as much as I was,
you will know, I am back at my job.




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Back Then

I remember my mother talking about
working in the fields, digging, planting, 
and harvesting, this was the only way
they could make sure, they all had 
good meals.
I remember, she also talked about
her walk to school, about 2 miles
one way, this was common back then,
it was all anyone knew.
Their finest possesion was a real
strong mule, her daddy loaned him
out, to just a few.
If they wanted candy, or a similar treat,
they had to catch a chicken, and trade
him for these.
I compare her times with now, and
those people had it rough, I can just see
some people today doing this, we're not
that tough.
These great people that came before,
opened so many doors, and we owe
them so much, we could never fill the
shoes they wore.



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A Long Time Ago

A long time ago our leaders led,
and thanked the One, who provided 
our bread.
A long time ago, we the people could speak,
and be proud to stand on our own two feet.
A long time ago, children could play,
and sleep at night, without worry a stranger
might take.
A long time ago, a man protected his home,
without the worry of being robbed if he was
gone.
A long time ago, our teens had chores,
not fancy cars, cell phones, and still
expecting more.
A long time ago, fathers were the boss,
and no one disputed at any cost.
A long time ago, women could cook,
their only stove was fueled with wood.
A long time ago, was a long time ago.


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Working Woman Blues

My new job, is really all right,
but the workers there,
well, they are a sight.
No helping hands, offered to me,
figure it out, it's up to me.
Lots to learn, names I don't know,
they have all been there,
two years or more.
Lost I do feel, so much paperwork,
I try, and ignore, but really it hurts.
They know the system, they know 
it all,
if I ask questions, they act like I just
broke the law.
Hang in, and conquer this mess,
if I get through this,
then I pass their test.
When a new one comes in, and they
sit where I've been,
they will get my help, 
their workplace friend.


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Another Year

Another year, has almost slipped from view,
another year older, this reality, so very true.
So many changes we have seen,
 It is almost like yesterday, we were in our teens.
From school to jobs, to pay the rent,
very little left now, we don't have to spend.
Our moms, and dads, really worked hard,
no wonder they always , said they were tired.
Families of our own, and the problems that follow,
making way, for their tomorrow.
Year after year, we tug alone,
just trying to keep comfort in our homes.
As we prepare for another year to come,
let's remember...try, and make this year, a
year of fun.