I can't bring myself
to read the front page news
with which they string us along
as portrayed by the views
of those with a vested interest
or the rest with an axe to grind
who must think we're all
just deaf dumb and blind
to the truth of which there's more
in the speech balloons
of the funny characters
in the Sunday cartoons
it's all a waste of paper
other than those comic strips
and really only good
for wrapping fish and chips
'It takes one to know one', so they do state,
but that won't take you far,
as we're never told exactly who these 'they' are.
'It's not what you know, it's who you know',
so the saying goes,
but the devil is in the details,
and I say, 'It's what you know about whom you know,'
which really goes to show,
whomsoever holds the power prevails.
'You have to give them what they want', so it is said,
but that only adds to my pique,
as I know not those 'them' of whom they speak.
Some may say 'I have an axe to grind',
but that's neither here nor there,
as I take issue with; 'they', 'who' and 'them' unknown,
yes it's my cross to bear.
Endless hallways stretch ahead
A weary traveler hanging by a thread
Meetings blur from dawn to night
Late dinners then another flight
The city lights are far from home
In empty rooms my thoughts comb
Another deal another grind
Peace and sleep are hard to find
Family’s voice a quick call
Tiredly I saunter through hotel halls
The days are long the nights are brief
From this journey I should seek relief
The world spins on yet I must stay
Until I’m home where I can lay
In quiet arms which welcome me
Letting me find some time to be
Sitting on the fence I get entangled
in the barbed wire,
I lie on the heap of ashes
of my cherished dreams
wondering when a stray spark might
rekindle the flames of my dormant desires.
The Grind
In Gielinor's realm, where legends reside,
A hero emerges, with nowhere to hide.
From Lumbridge to Kharazi, a journey untold,
With pickaxe and sword, a story unfolds.
The grind is relentless, the hours they blur,
Woodcutting, mining, a monotonous stir.
But whispers arise, of glory and fame,
To slay the great dragon, and conquer the game.
From barrows to bandits, a constant fight,
Forging ahead, with unwavering might.
Each skill a triumph, each level a gain,
A digital odyssey, easing the pain.
With friends by your side, a camaraderie deep,
Sharing the burden, secrets to keep.
The memories linger, the laughter, the tears,
A timeless adventure, conquering fears.
So raise a tankard, to Gielinor's might,
To heroes of old, who battled through night.
For in this realm, where legends are born,
The spirit of Runescape forever will adorn.
grinding sausage
grinding teeth
grinding pepper
grinding ground beef
elbow grease and grit
no room for a butterfly to flit…
Wherefore is summer ‘a grind’
~ when to its beauty we are blind
Trailing clouds of glory do we come
Until by the end we are left dull and glum.
How it all came to this
We are responsible
For being so remiss
The magic of our early moments
Emblazoned in our minds
Fades and disperses with every pressure
Our world brings to bear upon our pleasure
Exams, bills, targets, workday worries
blunt our perceptions
And drive them undergound
Occasionally to spark alive in a dream state
Eluding our grasp
once we come to our senses
Wide awake and once more blind
How to recapture
And to resurrect
That rich inner spirit
Which came with our birth
That should be our aim
Too many earthly concerns
Within our clay
Must take the blame
For that loss of courage
To break free from the constricting frame
Forcing us
To forget the beauties of the day
To play the stultifying economic game
The stifling straitjacket of life
Keeps us playing
I must have wished a thousand times
that somehow we could live our lives
for something more.
And I can’t help but wonder why
we strive to keep so much in line,
what is it for?
Can’t you see we spend our time
building what we call “The Grind”,
finding ways to numb the pain it causes.
The blind leading the blind.
Can’t you see we spend our time
building what we call “The Grind”.
What is it for?
beings of the grind
grind through
catastrophic time
[[[!*&$%!!!!!!!!!!!%$&*!]]]
beings of the grind
groan in
cacophonous slime
#@!////////???????\\\\\\\\!@#
beings of the grind
grovel in
contorted grime
|?$#!-!#$?|
beings of the grind
gallop into
convoluted crime
|?$#!-!#$?|
&
kick
contentious cans
down the road
of raging
rabbit holes
(((??::::::::::::::::??)))
Days can get long when feel like we are stuck in the weeds
Extending effort to others in exchange for meeting our needs
Yet we can reframe our mindset to help manage through the stress
As there may come a time when we look back and miss the mess
Altering our approach allows us to find meaning in the moment
Soaking up the sweetness of the chaos by stepping up to own it
May even discover that our needs can be filled in along the way
Transforming what used to be a drag instead to a boost everyday
Here I am homeless
Sometimes shoeless
I really have nothing to show
People look down on me wherever I go
I don't mind
I will soon leave them behind
Never had much
No loving touch
Most of life
I have lived among strife
Of my own making
Due to the chances I was taking
I dream
But it would seem
Never to reach any higher
Never to satisfy this desire
Put out the fire
I write
Sometimes all night
Life hasn't been kind
Don't wish for no rewind
Once was enough
Still I hang tough
No where left to go
Nothing left to show
Never to live the dream
It would seem
I'm reaching my end
Spin is starting to bend
Never to give in
Yet never to win
No don't mind
Hate the grind
Go with the flow
It is all I know
Out in the cold
As I grow old
Lost soul
Survival my goal
Facing the daily grind
I find myself further behind.
Of the future I'm blind
Can't see where I'm going
My age I'm showing
Two steps forward only moves me two back
Time is on the attack
Trying to find
Peace of mind
Can't live life in rewind
If you want to move ahead
Hold close, the love your fed
Time passing by
Tears that you cry
Leaving behind yesterday
For that's my only way
That's how you find tomorrow.
Don't get lost in the sorrow
May seem hard
All the times your heart was jarred
Hold to your dreams
Not as hard as it seems
To move forward
Ever toward
A distant day
The price you pay
To find your way
Tongue in cheek - Tongue-in-cheek describes an exaggerated facial gesture — pushing a cheek out with one's tongue — meant to convey contempt or irony. (defined by vocabulary.com)
Tongue in Cheek-The Grind
the grind, prefer dark;
shifting teeth do not agree -
the worst habit, under moon.
squeeze a tube of paste.
superglue the parts to each -
only metaphorically.
1/28/2023
Nothing but horses on a merry go round,
painted faces, costumes, and lies based on facts.
We’re all wearing masks
that disguise us from ourselves more than others,
making it so hard for anyone to really know at all
what they want or need until they lose it.
There’s no typical or expected
or proper or appropriate;
only expectations of propriety
and the viability of options,
hiding tears behind smiles,
running up hills and down aisles.
It’s padded chairs and seat belts
and artificial light
and plans never completed,
love never returned,
and electric blankets and solitary music
and pictures of angels
and books about lovers.
I told him ’bout that silly beard, that he’s not ZZ Top
That he could buy a razor if he visited a shop
He worked here in my butchers store, he’d have to wear a mask
I don’t know why he said he won’t, it wasn’t much to ask
I asked him if he’d nip out back and grind a pound of mince
‘And tie that beard around your neck’, which kinda made him wince
He took a pound of nice lean beef but didn’t tie his beard
And when he took a long long time, some bosses might have sneered
I don’t know why he vanished but I haven’t seen him since
There wasn’t any ZZ Top but there was LOADS of mince
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