Best Briefcases Poems
Full title:
LIFELONG, MEANINGLESS MUSINGS MEAN EVERYTHING OF NO VALUE
aka
OFF THE WALL RAMBLINGS
After upscale meals, I know no relief
until I somehow pick my un-fancy teeth.
Serve me good food in my own home
and these same teeth leave me alone.
At work, when I am approached by someone
who wishes to run some questions by me,
I silently laugh at an image most fun –
question marks toting briefcases as they run.
When my hands are dish-washing sudsy
or toting a large box for some distance,
an air fairy enjoys itching my nose nutsy
until I concede and scratch it roughly.
Any new clothes I hang up that are white,
closet creatures beat with yellow chains
and their marks will not wash out of sight.
The more I love it, the more yellow remains.
Things do grow legs and then walk away.
I tend to nest surrounded by my stuff.
I will not move, but my stuff will parade,
decay, migrate, and evade me, sure enough.
There exist an invisible, rude agitator
who throws dirt inside my refrigerator.
Every week or so, this frig mini-meanie does put
grime, spots, ice-hard raised trails and odd soot.
My air fairy, closet creatures and frig mini-meanie were all to me, assigned.
I know this because I often move and still, it is where I go that they find.
... CayCay Jennings
November 24, 2016
Categories:
briefcases, humorous, imagination,
Form:
Rhyme
Same faces
old men
briefcases
must be working
early today.
She's still doing the crossword
yesterday's news
feeding her answers
reading the clues
nothing changes.
Baby in a carry cot
not a lot of scope to wriggle
but
giggling anyway.
The tube map's the same
I can name every station
from Epping to Ealing
feeling old, but not as old
as him
who looks like the reaper,
grim
is the word I would choose.
The gap's just a trap to
catch the unwary
it's never caught me.
A river appears in which
I fish for ideas
but nothing comes up to
bite me
it might be
I'm using the wrong type
of bait.
Categories:
briefcases, travel,
Form:
Rhyme
Cutting stones for building blocks doesn't
bring the whole food at the table. Playing
betting games force them to sell their
clothes and shoes. Saving money becomes
harder than collecting drops of rain during
drought.
Their children toil in the farms and streets,
because they have no school fees;
their daughters end up as pleasure toys
for the rich, for they don't have enough money
to buy sanitary pads and maintaining beauty;
their sons become easy prey for politicians
who pay a few hundreds for causing chaos
to their opponents.....
Gods' eyes shy away from their blessings,
forcing them to turn from lawful men
to gang-bangs, hiding around streets
and lavish estates. Frustration sometimes
force them to press the trigger,
as they scoop out handbags, briefcases,
and pockets.
Their lives are sustained for a while in the midst
of inflation and higher house rents. Their children
go back to school, and food becomes more abundant
at the dining table. Debts are also paid.
Soon, the arms of the law stretch to their homesteads,
and put them in handcuffs. Their wives and children
watch in despair. The sole providers are sent in jail,
to serve decades or life sentences.
Hard life is all they know from outside or inside the prison bars.....
Categories:
briefcases, deep, imagery, life, society,
Form:
Narrative
we are all built for hell but some have made modification to adjust their placement and still they have miles to go before their finished racin
so daily i enter my mental basement to destroy its encasement only to find its like beating a twig on the pavement
my courageous statements are met with resentment
my untainted patience is often more than should be given
and still im driven to keep winnin through unbiased livin
i refuse to envision my manhood in a compromising position
and my past transgressions are contradictions to my mission
since I strayed from the christians but thats my conviction
so i try to throw blessins in many directions in the form of lessons depictin the streets oppression
and this food i feed to my brethren is like feeding a cold congestion with no medicine for suppression
seeing as im spreading this contagion with no abrasions to the most evasive men in the nation
These beautiful black creations were supposed to be raising are raising hell in our faces and catchin cases with briefcases filled with life sentence phrases and sierra leone bracelets
I'm destined to change this.
Categories:
briefcases, black african american, inspirational,
Form:
Free verse
A line of loafers march in step,
through halls of granite and of pearl.
A rare and vaunted holy sept,
heels all clicking, toes unfurled.
Through halls of granite and of pearl,
briefcases locked by secret code,
heels all clicking, toes unfurled,
two by two, sixteen all told.
Briefcases locked by secret code,
the minting men on orders high.
Two by two, sixteen all told,
Thirty-two pennies, no laces to tie.
The minting men on orders high,
a rare and vaunted holy sept.
Thirty-two pennies, no laces to tie,
a line of loafers march in step.
Categories:
briefcases, business, dedication, nostalgia, people,
Form:
Pantoum
"Proper Pam im-promiscuity carries a
tepid torch against the blank footlights
of a dimlit digital marital marquee---last on the
billing of a car-null double featurette like
a black and white bijou plotless rerun
hand cranked by an arthritic arm;
pit pursuant of
quicksand lust with a gray gaze monotony
able to hitchhike from a plavce point left
only undetermined,
I've seen more action from a shoe sticky floor
or a large hole in an uncomfortable seat cushion,
not to "juxtapare" mind me but what a
chronofile, if briefcases couldspeak and not the
numbers from the credit card diction-ary of child
desires---stratfied pleasures far from TILT
lean calmly on majestic inconsequentials--like
ships passing in the night.
a blue ribbon in a cud chewing contest
Categories:
briefcases, angst, child, depression, husband,
Form:
Free verse
Living within-to-outward is an ideal feel-perspective when
attempting to faithfully navigate the deceptively treacherous
sea of human behavior. Those who initiate living, giving and
breathing life from within, know that peace, love and security
come only from their own core. Living-within-people accept
others and, while willing to comfort, mostly leave them be to
freely and fully tend their own spiritual growth and journey.
Centered within people know that lashing out with anger or
insult is caused by no other, but from somehow falling out of
flow with life. Inward dealing people know that only by turning
within will they find both the cause and remedy to restore rightful
internal order. This soul knows that we cannot make people our
friends, no, for two to know a sincere bond it must mutually
inward-form. Outward-aware people have little to no ability to
disturb within-aware people.
Living outward-to-within is a false feel-perspective when dealing
with faith and emotions. Seekers of outward validation for all felt,
desired and sought, walk blind and far searching among other
personalities, when sight and stillness would tell them all. Those
who initiate life from outward of their own self, expect peace,
security, love and all else ideal to come from the world.
Living-outward-people do not accept taking or rejecting people
as they are, but as they fit or misfit their own expectations for
fulfillment. Truth for those outward-aware is that any anger or
insult they unleash was outwardly caused and requires outward
remedy. All people keep these people in a state of “disturb-able.”
These people believe that we make friends.
One thing that living spiritual truth means is striving to rise above
the insults and accusations of others. Such behavior comes from
inside the source, not the target. If we had to own insults and
carry them around in briefcases, they would have to be carried by
the speaker.
Categories:
briefcases, conflict, deep, emotions, feelings,
Form:
Free verse
One thousand dead businessmen
Zombies of emotionless regimen
Sharply dressed
Black suit and tie, freshly pressed
Leather briefcases, to seem professional
This march of skeletons is quite exceptional
DECAY
Burst into dust and wither away
Corruption and greed let them die
The next thousand corpse march includes you and I
Categories:
briefcases, politicalmarch,
Form:
Rhyme
Out of the office,
They pour at five-thirty'
In their shirts, coats, and ties,
Tired- but not really dirty'
In the parking lot,
They put their briefcases on the curb.
'Til they get their air-conditioned car unlocked.
Then-head for the suburbs.
Then there are the laborers:
Carpenters, welders, miners, and such.
Each night when they leave their jobs,
They're exhausted, and often to filthy to touch.
Many stop off at some convenient bar,
Which, frequently, is pretty near.
To quench their parched, dry throats,
With a round-or two- of beer'
Two different lifestyles;
As diverse as can be.
One may be repulsive to you;
The other one, repugnant to me'
Our God in Heaven looking down from His Throne,
Can observe both of these.
"They are my children I love and died for.
That is all He sees'
Arthur Ball (H.S.L.P.)
Septembe 1, 2002
Categories:
briefcases, faith
Form:
Rhyme
Got a belly full of booze and I
Feel like tripping the light fantastic,
Dancing with the devil in the pale
Moonlight, whatever you want to
Call it, I feel like dancing!
Doing the two step shuffle
And wiggle my get along, twirling
And twirling, fall down a bit but
The blood will dry, as I don't skip
A beat. I'm a dancing magician tonight!
People laughing or turning away real quick.
They are all afraid of me in my drunken
Ecstacy, not wanting to admit they wish
They had the free will to throw down the
Briefcases and do a little jitterbug.
I'm Fred without Ginger, game without an
Umbrella, Baryshnikov with out shoes,
I'm Dorothy prancing down the yellow brick road
I'm a fool doing the fools dance for the
Kingdom of You. Km prancing fool!
Someone throws a nickel, another a rock.
Slowing down a bit so I go into a waltz with
A stick for a partner, oh what a sight I am.
Seems like the po-po are interests too.
Bad critics they are, those artless souls.
My dancing is my color in the black and
White world, in my head a Jim box playing
The songs that make me cry and celebrate
My life as it is now, not what it was because
"what it was" is but a faint folly. Dance on.
I am done now, panting, breeding, and drunk.
I cry some tears of a moron confused In his
Shell of nonexistence. I am so tired, the crowd
Is gone. I huddle against a wall and him
A little ditty that echoes off the walls and
Dances in the air.
Categories:
briefcases, addiction, candy, dance, emotions,
Form:
Free verse
First let me start by saying “I AM A CLUTTER JUNKIE”
A clutter junkie collects things any and all things, things that are unimportant and often cheap
Things that have no purpose or meaning.
Things that usually just end up sitting around needing to be dusted.
I have known for a long time I was a clutter junkie but really didn’t know how bad it was till I decided to de clutter..
Some of things I can not explain are
23 sets of candle holder of different sizes and shapes,
38 pairs of black dress pants oh I know I used them I wear black all the time
10 sets of bedspreads, curtains and throw pillows to match,, yes there are only 2 beds in my house
18 pairs of shoes I havent worn in couple of years
4 boxes of toys yes my youngest child is 33 years old
41 purses choose a color any color
112 bottles of fingernail polish…yeah I have ten fingers and ten toes
31 different containers of eye shadow want to paint a picture
212 long stem glasses no I do not own a bar
Craft supplies make flowers, jewelry, decompage, mosaic, purses, paint, tshirts, oh I don’t even know what some are for.
3 files cabinets full of copy paper, pictures and God himself doesn’t know what I need that for
593 pens I write a lot but not that much
Baskets, urns, and vases I did not even count
21 watches you would think I would know what time it is
I think I have one of every self help book published and some of them I have 2 of the same
I have 4 briefcases and I work from home
I have a six at a time cd player and closer to 600 cds does that make any sense
I have 5 bibles and I do use one most every day
TV well lets see do I count the ones in the house by themselves or count ones in garage sitting on a shelf
I love to cook but there is no way I could use 42 pans today
Dishes of every shape size and color maybe I should throw a party before I throw them away
What is the purpose of all this you say… it is proof positive I am a clutter junkie I say.
Categories:
briefcases, funny, on work and
Form:
In the Barley Tavern I’m in tune,
having a couple before it’s noon.
There was no-one there to talk to,
‘cept for the barman Ken, and who,
joined me to share one or two,
until a couple of blokes in suits,
black ties, white shirts and shiny boots,
dressed up and looking like galoots;
who I was thinking to lampoon,
found themselves table and chair,
and put their briefcases down there,
and at the time I’m unaware,
but quickly found out very soon,
they had come in with lunch to eat,
and so from the cases at their feet,
they lifted out their little treat;
sandwiches, and took the opportune,
and that’s when barman Ken seen red,
watching these blokes as they fed,
so then he shouted and he said,
“Hey I’ve got rules in this saloon -
you can’t eat your own sandwiches here!”
they stared at Ken as if he’s *****,
(upset - they hadn’t bought a beer)
but Ken looks like a silly loon,
when they shrugged and gave a grin,
swapped sandwiches and had a win -
Ken had to take it on the chin.
Categories:
briefcases, humor,
Form:
today, sister, you are an adult
among the hurried ones in suits
attention cast to watches and briefcases.
today, sister, i cannot look
upon the numeral of your age
without the feeling i have missed something.
today, sister, it is not just a birthday.
the whole house has fogged up
with unknown feelings.
today, sister, my throat is dry
when i try to show my joy
of this day when you were born.
today, sister, perhaps
it is i who simply cannot fathom
that you are the child i grew up with
no longer.
Categories:
briefcases, family, life, nostalgia, sister,
Form:
Free verse
I spoke to a daughter and she rallied another daughter who ran into
The hospital to save me.
she brought a beautiful purple vase, pink carnations, and briefcases,I think there were at least 53 for thee.
“what doctor has been here.”
“What does he look like? What is the medicine you take at three?”
Try to always bring
An assertive smart
Take-no prisoners
Daughter-to the
Hospital with you
Because not only
Will you get your meds,
They will get so flustered
You will get 3 dinners.
As my daughter followed Dr Try ToEscape
Back to his office to watch him data in my pills
And their frequency I grinned.
Angela, an adult was here
To make the Carens feel better.
We all cheered!
Categories:
briefcases, appreciation, cancer, caregiving, cute
Form:
Free verse
If those buried beneath us
could rise today,
would they run to any patch of sunlight,
make snow angels, heap-up snowmen,
stick blackened bones into white bodies?
Would they fashion a bright face
from tooth stumps and icy eye-sockets?
Sadly I imagine that some,
(the frost-jelled and un-melting),
might return to crumbling factories
or defunct offices,
their briefcases or tool boxes
stuffed with snow
to labor over epitaphs.
Categories:
briefcases, poetry,
Form:
Free verse