Where dry walls turn to dust
they depart.
They enter as laughter.
They roost on struts and beams.
Rafters for each shinning feather
whether or not each feather is stiff or curly.
Flooring for the angelically inclined
is optional. Pin heads are perfect.
A house without an angel is a tomb
but be of good cheer,
they are everywhere, even in the bathroom
where they often rest with you.
Domestic housing only,
public and federal buildings
will never be up to their code
no matter how architecturally pleasing
for angels need a welcome mat
and a pleasant kitchen,
a roof that lets the pain run down
as rain to water garden seeds.
What else?
Their are tent angels and shanty angels,
homeless and under bridge angels.
Angels are houses for prayers,
In the Far East
folks erect Spirit Houses;
little shrines for holiness to occupy
same thing really,
a flight of stairs
for the starry-eyed helps,
but ranch and open-plan
span just as well
if each body within them
is a ringing temple bell.
Categories:
open plan, poverty,
Form: Free verse
Got up this morning
Too busy yawning
To see the pee pot
Spilled the whole lot
With a short kick
Not a recommended trick
Bathroom door was locked
Stood in my pee soaked socks
Flatulence turns to lumps
Underwear full of bumps
Toaster mysteriously jammed
Smoke filled the open plan
Amidst all the chaos
My grip was lost
The bottle smashed
The milk splashed
And the kettle was dry
Almost causing another fire
The car would not start
Despite prayers from the heart
Trying to push the automobile
No movement from the wheels
Battery was flat
Tyres were flat
And I'm late for work
My boss will go beserk
Got to work in empty factory
Seeing no-one made me worry
Observed my paper front page
Date explained it's Saturday
Walking home abusing myself
Mutters heard by noone else
Slipped on a muddy bank
Falling to a sudden land
Covered in dog poop
My embarrassed head droop
Workmen outside my home
Remind me waters no more
A burst pipe was the cause
Nearly answering I paused
Dropped my ashamed head
And went back to bed
I'll sleep the rest of the day
So no more unlucky pain
Categories:
open plan, anxiety, confusion, day, funny,
Form: Rhyme
I may be old fashioned but I think I will die,
Refusing to believe the lie,
That open plan living justifies wearing a suit and tie.
I am yet to be convinced on the merit of hubs,
Where the Doctors keep swapping patients,
And different sports are no longer good sports.
I think headphones were something worth inventing
But I don't think they were meant for keeping,
The conversation out and the noise in, when at an important meeting.
The good news is that I have not given up hope,
That open plans and hubs are on a slippery slope,
As my grandson who is no dope,
Looks to books to give him scope,
Which pleases this old dope,
Who sees no need of a rope,
As open plan living and hubs may soon be words not often spoke,
With a new generation dreaming of a Den or a quiet space to give them scope,
Which is all that we can hope.
Categories:
open plan, age, analogy, autumn, blessing,
Form: Light Verse
You don't even have to leave the home,
To find yourself in a space war,
With your own family.
Few spaces now to grow anything of value
Unless you are into wine or dope,
They are even trying to take over your head space.
So, before you go all out on open plan,
Open your mind,
To allow some storage space.
If you would rather not go to war,
Now is the time to reserve some personal space,
With adequate storage.
If you doubt the wisdom,
I have planted in this space.
Try negotiating an open plan house, in the dark.
If you still have doubts,
Look around,
At all the people who are spaced out.
Categories:
open plan, analogy, anxiety, assonance, bereavement,
Form: Dramatic Monologue
Nowhere now to hide,
Fearing for their hide,
Every time they go for a ride.
Few doors to hide behind,
As open plan puts them one step behind
While governments and councils close their doors and their mind.
Not the right food to get to get them out of the starting block,
For a run around the block,
Should come as no shock.
Have we forgotten that open spaces used to be all outside?
And most windows had trees outside,
With mostly enough hiding places inside.
When our parents had calmed down,
Their frowns turned upside down,
No longer in danger of wearing a set of handcuffs downtown.
Why then are we hot on removing hiding places,
As even big faces sometimes need hiding places,
So we can all live to see other smiling faces.
Categories:
open plan, addiction, anger, anxiety, betrayal,
Form: Dramatic Verse
The way it was
I lived on a farm, and one day I walked
down the lane to get the horse in as it looked like rain
a man in a dark suit walked towards me
I said good evening, but he didn`t see me.
Later that evening an ancient lady who lived at the farm
it was customary for small farmers to take in old people
and get paid by the state, was feeling ill.
A doctor was called for, but we had no phone, so I was
sent to a farm that had one.
By the time the doctor showed up the lady had died.
The farmers put her in a wooden box that was
used to keep the milk urns it had a lid, this to keep
rats away they smell death.
Next day an open-plan car came they had a coffin
put the lady in a plain coffin and off the drove
to town and that was the last I saw of her.
The farmer got another old person to take her room.
Categories:
open plan, blessing, books, break up,
Form: Blank verse
Open plans' are the thing, they said.
Not for me, I said.
You old fuddy duddy,
You have had your day, they said.
I like a bit of privacy, I said.
And I can't think straight with all that noise, I said.
Get over it Pap, they said.
Head phones and texting will take care of the noise level
And your room is still set to your privacy level, they said
What about storage, I said.
Use your computer for that, they said.
What about my books, I said.
You can read on line, they said
But what if I get bored, I said.
Just go to the app store they said.
But open plan is no longer cool in New York, I said.
Really, they said as they rushed to their lap tops.
Now that's poetic justice I thought as I made myself a cup of real coffee
And flicked through the pages of a hard copy of poems by my favourite author,
Bought from a real store.
By my daughter with a real show of affection and understanding,
For this old Fuddy Duddy.
Categories:
open plan, age, analogy, books, celebration,
Form: Imagism
That wide open plan,
The desktop area so spacious,
A vast canvas so beautiful;
Why do you sit there,
Open to all for their curiosity?
When you to me call.
Oh cupboard, that hard disk brimming with identity,
Memory no problem, even lacking files;
Proficiently organised with raging delight,
Amorous filing system which you employ.
All disks are obvious, seen by me,
Begging to be viewed, added to or changed,
Offering usage stats and permissions,
That are not just the programmer’s privilege,
But any users' decree.
No LOGO, no dos,
No text-based system to beat,
No floppies to be distorted,
By the drives' magnetic wheels.
Encrypted files are offered,
But that requires some introspection,
About whether or not your loved one,
Would really infiltrate your disk,
And read your documents.
My computer is a reflection of me,
My order or my mayhem;
No longer my prowess and endeavour,
‘Cos my articulations are my graft,
Not the machine’s mechanisations.
Categories:
open plan, appreciation, beautiful, cheer up,
Form: Free verse
Where is our fight
Doomed to be controlled,
Like robots in the night,
Our hearts growing cold..
Keeping us bound
To open plan offices,
Unnatural sounds
And beige surfaces.
When power is lost,
Creativity strangled.
Eyes staring glossed,
At black rectangles.
Just outside,
A natural utopia.
Yet everyday we hide
and exist in sepia..
A life in monotony,
Is not life at all.
Its almost a felony,
For time we can't recall..
This thinking we need to shed,
These days slowly blurring.
Like Benvolio said
These hot days, is the mad blood stirring..
Categories:
open plan, angst, confusion, depression, introspection,
Form: I do not know?