Long Interviewer Poems
Long Interviewer Poems. Below are the most popular long Interviewer by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Interviewer poems by poem length and keyword.
A young man worked for a major corporation for 12 years, but got laid off
He was a Systems Programmer
The Supervisor told the young man of cutbacks being laid offs, and that his position was eliminated
The last hired the first fired
That wasn’t comforting news for the young man
How will his bills be paid, and where will he live without an apartment?
All that was going through the young man’s mind
He felt in adequate and a failure
He cried in desperation alone
He saw himself as a down cast
But what the young man didn’t realize, he achieved value
There were goals in craftsmanship of talent with the skills embraced
The young man had skills in Technology
That’s a high mark and not a low mark
He needs to believe in himself, and don’t let anyone to discourage him
At some point, many will experience the hammer of unemployment
The young man decided to keep his skills fine toned in being prepared for another job opportunity
He was young and not ready for retirement
Believing and praying the young man did
Opportunity knocked and he was prepared
The young man called got called for an interview for another Programming position in a big corporation
He went to the interview, filled out the application and waited for the interviewer to come out
The young man sat down and answered the questions the HR person asked
He was later told, he got the job
Value at its best
Just believe and victory will tell its own story
The young man did and you can too
Remember, value is a commodity that no one can take away.
Interviewer:
What is the original name for your island chain now called Bikini?
What happened to it?
What has it become here and now?
What is your future?
Bikini Atoll:
Well where do I begin?
We have been assaulted from the very beginning.
The name for the island is 'Pikinni',
meaning a "flat surface of coconuts".
German colonials corrupted this to the offensive name 'Bikini'.
Less than 200 people lived here originally.
Perhaps because we were so few to matter, and so isolated,
our beautiful island was chosen as the site for
multiple nuclear bomb tests,
including the mighty 'Bravo' which was 1000 times
more powerful than the bomb dropped on Hiroshima,
The Japanese name of which means 'wide island' .
Our beautiful island was destroyed, all but obliterated.
We cannot go back there for countless generations to come
because the dangerous radiation lingers long and fades so slowly.
We tried to go back once, it looked so lovely
as the coconuts gathered again, on the clean atoll beaches
but the hidden radiation made us sick, and we had to leave.
My people of Pikinni want to return to their homeland,
but their hope is frustrated with despair.
The price my people paid is immeasurable and never ending.
Here is their lament:
Why choose Pikinni to blow up with your bombs?
What did we ever do to you?
All we wanted was to live in peace
in paradise here on our
lovely island atoll far away from it all.
Instead you blew us up, left your lingering scourge
of radiation, hidden away and deadly.
While our island has recovered its beauty
and externally became
paradise on earth once again, it is forever unlivable.
Go to hell and stay there forever for
what you have done to Pikinni
and its refugees living in foreign
lands unable to return!
The river of our relentless tears lies collected
within the green coconuts strewn
on the sands of Pikinni atoll,
on our 'flat surface of coconuts',
on our home
on our one and only land.
It behooves me to tell you this but when you visit my page
You open yourself up to some very creepy events
For instance, you will be carrying on like it was a normal day
When suddenly you'll burst out into incontrollable laughter
Just hope and pray there's no one around
Especially when you're attending the funeral of a friend
Also if your applying for a new job
And the interviewer asks you if you've ever had a brush with the law
It's not a good idea to look around shiftily
Quickly put your hand where you might be packing some heat
And tell the interviewer you were once a member of the FBI
So this is just an advanced warning
Be prepared and don't schedule any serious business meetings
It could mean your job... don't say I didn't warn you!
© Jack Ellison 2014
She had straightened her hair,
She had to seem more ‘presentable’
No longer were her curls, wild and free,
Now tamed by expected conformity
She was the only black girl in the room,
The atmosphere suffocated by others judgement,
They whisper and laugh -
Yet she still remains professional
She has no other option,
She gives a polite, strained smile
She has to keep calm,
She can’t give a reaction
She doesn’t have the privilege,
To defend herself without any issues,
She patiently waits, her eyes on the clock
Waiting for the moment prove herself for the job
Now it is her turn - she enters the room,
She sits down, then smiles at the interviewer,
She is qualified, miles ahead of the other participants,
Despite her being the most qualified, she won’t be considered
She did extremely well,
Not one stutter,
She was impressive,
But they already had a ‘diversity’ hire
A secret rule,
Is one black person,
Just so HR can’t accuse of racism,
As soon as she leaves, her resume is ripped up
When asked what skill sets
I hoped to bring
Her local ecology of justice
for nurturing,
I was not prepared.
But,
one of two internal wisdom projects,
still in process,
I'm ego-working on,
eco-role playing with,
is non-violent communication,
so I mentioned this
to the Trees and other WiseElder
youth nutritional developers
Young,
poised and elegant,
soft-spoken yet articulate
and straightforward
and with integrity of authentic curiosity,
She asked me
"What do you mean
by non-violent communication skills?
Does that mean you invite,
rather than demand, responses
by mentoring them
while listening for co-present hiding Wins
then Both/And speaking
then WinWin listening again?"
"Or are you still working
on healing OldSchool communication issues,
dominating patriarchal Left
by diminishing ElderMatriarchal Right?"
"Are you still working on non-violently violating people
with your body aggressive hands
and patriarchally mendacious voice
and homophobic and xenophobic
marching against green ecofeminist sacred feet
and blatantly exhibiting LeftBrain rabid totalitarian deductive-reductive dominance
and Trumpian: I'm just a bad bully boy
with a redblooded colonizing heart
testosterone twittering?"
I wasn't expecting that line of questioning.
But I found it really interesting
that a freckled nose
brown-skinned
young and beautiful,
inside and outside
ego and eco-core centered investigative interviewer
would need to ask that
of a white U.S. male
at this critical moment
of last non-violent hope
breathlessly waiting
for a WinWin communicated response
inviting cooperative ego/ecological polypathic climates
reversing pathological monoculturing decades
of business as competing WinLose usual
Now post-millennially reborn
green inviting integrity
of PositivEnergy Democracy
non-violently inciting
restorations of multicultural EarthJustice
SpaceTime co-arising
further EgoLeft-EcoSacredRight
ripe for ZeroZone theological healing.
But,
that's the other skill set
I'm sacred ecological
RightBrain STEAM green
writing with--
much too revolutionary
for any first time
PositivEnergy impression.
Maybe we could go there
next 2020 Revolutionary time.
The Alex Joneses among us
As we are coming up to Christmas, which is a feast
for the advertisers, and it is impossible turning
or switching on the radio or TV without getting an earful of sentimental songs flung at morning tired
adults before the first cup of coffee
PS. There was a time when one could write: a cup of coffee and a cigarette, we are glad tobacco is no longer
in our mind and body. Here someone is clearing throats
but find it best not to comment
A right-wing Christian and conspiracy theorist has been
allowed into Tweeter, X, and this has made the official
Press into a knot of outrage.
Elon Musk has done us a service by letting his Twitter be
a place for the burning questions to be aired.
Yes, at the same place where the perfectly awful
vulgarian and bigoted interviewer, Piers Morgan, spews
his opinions, for many who see him as a spokesperson
for despicable lies and shallow thinking
He is tolerated and has many fans among those who do
not reflect upon his utterings.
As for Alex Jones, a famous radio host, who has a theory of so many things and many of his views involve Jews, a group of people who hold American Politicians in a fateful grip of corruption and the weaponizing of
the Holocaust and in its holy name, special privileges
In Europe, Alex Jones is not well known I think he is
seen as an outspoken Billy Graham, a man I once saw
in the late fifties, preaching under a circus tent to
thousands of applauding Norwegians, many of whom thought he looked like Wild West Cowboy.
The good thing about an outlet like Twitter it gives
those with views contrary to the officials have a place
to air their opinions, without being branded a ban
Hair looked wild, got to hide my tattoo,
Because today I have a job interview.
I wear a long sleeve shirt, scarf, and hat,
To hide my dragon-skull and vampire bat.
Went into Blackrock, the secretary smiled,
I wanted to spend time with her a while,
Then she saw the beer stains on my shirt,
Decided she didn't want to flirt.
Talked to human resources, the questions came fast,
Tried to prevent them learning of my past,
Didn't mention my prison time, lied about my résumé,
Then the fan blew off my hat — what a bad day!
(Chorus)
It’s a bad hair day,
But I’m showing up anyway,
Got to meet the test
Can't always look your best.
The interviewer said, “You don’t qualify,
You lack the skills, and you need not apply.”
Then I said, “I may lack skills, but I’m part Cherokee,
Surely you can meet some target of diversity?”
The interviewer explained with a satirical grin
that diversity was out, experience was in.
I walked outside, felt life wasn’t fair,
People gave a stare at my wild hair.
Then I saw a dog try to bite two men outside,
I’ve dealt with pit bulls before, a matter of pride,
I gave the dog a whack on the nose,
Found out I had saved two CEOs.
Now I’m on the board of BlackRock Inc.,
Even though I look like a missing link.
They don’t mind my hair’s a mess,
Einstein looked that way too, it can impress.
That Neanderthal look has its perks
It intimidates bureaucrats, usually works..
It also helps with leftist assassins on New York Streets
They can't believe you're a capitalist if your hair speaks.
You can't win if you don't play
So don't be sunk by a bad hair day.
My dear brother Butch,
Hair are the highlights of my week:
I got a job at the Hairway to Heaven salon!
Our motto: "We color your hair or dye trying"
When the interviewer said "I mustache you a question..."
I answered, "May I mullet over?"
Seriously, working there is a shear delight,
with some nice fringe benefits
They're a real cut above the rest
and I shave a lot of money on hair products...
I bought Dad a comb for Father's Day… I bet he'll never part with it
It is a long drive to the salon, but now I know all the short cuts
Oh hey, I know hair-growth seminars are not your style, but
call up your receding hairline buddies and comb on over!
It was great to see you last week, you are looking so trim!
I still feel terrible about the curling iron incident…
You can rest a-sheared I'll straighten it out
but I mussed warn you, you might get fro straighted
Just remember, $15 for a hairpiece is a small price toupée
You may not like short hair at first, but it will grow on you
...that's the mane thing
Did you hear Mom and Dad had a brush with death?
It was a very hairy situation with a real twist:
buzzing down the highway at a decent clip
someone tried to cut them off
Mom was ready to wig out, curl up and dye, but thankfully
Dad went to great lengths to avoid an accident
so there was no permanent damage
you had to see it to be-weave it
Ok, time for a couple of jokes to lighten the mood:
How does the man on the moon trim his hair?
Eclipse.
Why did Pavlov have such fabulous looking hair?
Conditioning.
Why do felines groom with their tongues?
They can't find their catacombs.
Why did the little girl watch "Black Stallion" more than "Babe"?
She liked pony tales more than pig tales.
What was the barber's sign before he went on vacation?
"Hair today, gone to Maui"
Did you hear about the novelty store selling fake piles of dung?
It was sham poo.
Just teasing!
Take hair,
Curly
(Read “Interview with an Alien.” This is a continuation of the story)
Last thing Jim remembers is blowing his nose. Now
he sits. Where is he? What does he remember last?
“I’m here to interview you, Jim.”
“Who are you? Where am I?
“You seem a bit confused. Should I call for the doc?”
“No.”
“You seem nervous, Jim. Can I have that cloth in your hand?”
(Oh no! He starts to remember. What did Al do to him!)
After handing over the cloth, “Okay, that’s all we have for you today.”
(The interviewer walks away and Jim realizes he’s in a very white room.
He tries to rise from his chair…is it a chair…he’s very confused)
Many days later, “You comfortable, Jim? We wouldn’t want you
feeling uncomfortable, would we now.” He tilts him into a sleeping
position. “Back soon.”
(Jim stares up at the very white ceiling for many days. Somehow
he’s restrained. He’s angry and nervous.)
“Well…well…well, my friend!” his favorite martian has entered the room.
“I suppose we can finish our interview, at least part 2. Any questions?”
“Where am I, Al?”
“Hold onto that thought. I’ll be right back. Wait, let me make you more
comfortable.” (Now, Jim faces the floor)
“Noooo!” yells Jim. Don’t leave me. But, though he can’t see it
a door slams S H U T.
(One year later, back on earth, Jim is quite afraid of white spaces,
blank canvases, evasive conversation. He walks crowded streets
mumbling to himself, never asking any questions, warning earthlings
not to be inquisitive. “Just keep walking,” he says.)
What if I interchange
my place with you tactfully
and be the interviewer ma'am,
you the nervous interviewee?
My jumbled head with statistics
from economics to weight of moon
and from Osama to Obama,
will be a blank space soon.
I will measure you inch by inch
taking a careful look at you,
suddenly without an apparent cause
let out a huge naughty guffaw.
This will make you nervous more
sweat beads appear all over face,
casually I will enjoy this,and
let my mind to start caress.
Very much enjoy change of roles
with the peoples surrounding me,
frequently I am the Boss of all
anytime can be 'he' or 'she'.
What if I want to judge this time
to get the first time judgement taste,
will you sponsor write a poem
and enter in your own contest?
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