she gleams
across the ocean.
leaving her mark
touching every wave.
she scours the sandy beach,
every seashell accounted for.
she is the night's security guard,
only hanging her head to nod,
till morning's early crescent takes over
12 Snoopy scultures scattered around the city centre
to find in the sun
someone on facebook has spilled the beans
and revealed the location of 3 of them -
she has received an absolute backlash
some bloke wants to take part and drive up from kent
but we can't find the one and ask the young, bearded man in the hi-vis
he sends us over to the young, cologned-up man in the blue suit
he sends us down the escalator to the Paddington Bear bench
and we get there and leave a copy of Robert Burton's
The Anatomy of Melancholy next to Paddington,
eating his marmalade sandwich.
i whisper in his ear, 'good luck to you.'
the security guard and the blue-suited man begin to approach
we leave immediately.
She's standing
Like a security guard
Someone giving her a rose
Her face transition
From a serious one
Change to a charming
Sweet Officer.
seven women in new city have been murdered
in less than three months
news anchors keep the fear level high
women are afraid to leave their homes
especially at night
they have stopped clubbing
stopped playing cards
they are immobile some days
fear has paralyzed them
if they work nights they have a security guard walk them to their cars
checking under them and in the back seat before driving off
They roll down their windows and thank the security guard
One of the popular ones is Hank.
He loves walking them to their cars.
Likes that they feel safe with him.
Most never know they are thanking the murderer
before they drive off….
Hal walks back into the hospital,
shopping for his next victim.
Sheila dyed her hair burgundy and we asked “what now?”
She got rid of her chickens, her horse, her donkey and her cow.
Replacing them with a peacock, dog, cat, pelican and lion.
Her husband ran off, we all saw his feet fly’n.
That’s okay Sheila told us. I do not need a man.
I can do it all, with pizzazz and spit, I can farm this land.
The lion was the best security guard she ever had.
Her impromptu zoo was happy, and for this I was glad.
Every morning,
When the first bell rings,
I bite down a curse,
And try to give up sleep.
I fail, of course,
As I run down the street,
Skipping breakfast,
So that cranky old thing
Won’t win. Then,
Every 40 minutes it rings,
Like a broken record
(It’s what it’s meant to be).
On the corridor,
There is rusty crusty thing,
Obviously replaced
By the newer technology.
Close to midnight,
A child’s curiosity peaked,
She rang and called
A demon that was asleep.
-For the Bells poetry contest sponsored by Kim Rodrigues
-this is about alarms and school bells, and of course that one time a friend of mine decided to ring the very old traditional bell on the corridor in the middle of the night. Apparently someone came, asking for who it was, and blah, blah, blah. But hearing voices in the middle of the night is scary (even though it was most probably the school security guard), considering that our school is right next to a graveyard.
She barged through the doors of the bank with her gun
And shot the security guard just for fun
She fired her gun and yelled “Down on the floor,
I’ve shot me one man, I could shoot a few more!”
One customer, Jenna, said, “Hold up, you cretin,
You half witted loser, it’s jail you’ll be gettin,
You charge in this bank with that soppy old pistol
I think I might kick your ass from here to Bristol.”
The robber, fired two bullets into the ceiling
And said, “I shall shoot anybody not kneeling.”
Jenna said, “I’m gonna laugh as you fry.”
The robber said, “You’d better reach for the sky.”
Armed police turned up; one lady arrested
Based on the ‘facts’ that another attested
The robber’s at home playing video games
And Jenna’s in jail for calling her names
And all the police wonder what to expect
Now that they’ve lost any public respect
At lunch break they wonder how low they could stoop
When they’re as inviting as watered down soup.
[What a coincidence; a poem about someone called Jenna enduring an injustice. Pure chance… honest, Guvnor!]
I overdrew my bank account.
Then told the bank to print more money to cover it.
They told me there was no interest in doing that.
I suggested a moratorium on pursuing the matter.
They suggested I not write any more checks.
I told them I was drowning in debt.
They asked who pushed me into the pool.
I wept and cried as I toweled myself off.
I asked if they could suspend my rent/mortgage payments
car payments, child care/support payments etc.
The said it wasn’t their job to bail me out.
I reminded them that the GOVERNMENT
(aka taxpayers like me) had bailed them out.
They called in an armed security guard
to escort me from the building.
Wait till they see what’s going on with my credit cards!!!
John G. Lawless
I cannot anymore say “I do not give a hoot!”
When a policeman pulls over my car,
First thing I say is, “Officer, please don’t shoot!”
Now, I am afraid to go--to venture very far
From the security of my very own back yard
I no longer visit my local neighborhood bar
These days we need a personal security guard
To feel safe when we go to the village malls
Guns from all public places should be barred
Once we could handle old-fashioned brawls
But with serial killers and snipers on the loose
I am afraid our backs are pressed to the walls
Discarded social mores have cooked our goose.
Today I went to the shopping mall
A few items I needed to purchase
I decided to have a coffee and snack
Then went to Tim Horton's to order
Paid for it then walked to an area
Where I could enjoy my coffee and snack
There wasn't anywhere to sit down the
seated areas were all taken away
So stood near a railing to lean on
The security guard came to tell me
I could not eat or drink coffee here
So I went outside to have my snack and coffee
I understand the reason not sit down to eat
The virus has changed everything now
So now I have decided to eat breakfast at home
Then go shopping at the shopping mall
Congress had the decency
To INQUIRE into Chavin's brutality
(It is not all police are fascist thugs!)
Philonise said Chavin planned it
(Congressman Nadler was shocked)
"They worked at the same club,"
George Floyd, aka Perry
Was friendly, "spoke to everyone,"
He was a Security Guard, George was
To be cuffed & held - knee on neck - so long :
NO SIGN WORDS GOT PAST CHAVIN's ear, heart :
"Yes, premeditated," said Philonise Floyd
Testimony before congress
Peace-lovers, love-writers, what U gonna say now?
Love is a puzzle to her, armed to perplex.
She does not understand it,
Is confounded,
Although surrounded
By others who seem to all be in love.
She walks quickly past,
Trying to ignore the
Handholding and the kisses,
Not in public she mutters to herself,
But deep inside, not aloud,
Not wanting any attention.
Afraid of being noticed.
“Hey!” someone yells.
She puts her head down
And keeps running.
Does not stop until she gets
Safely inside the library.
“That guy was trying to get your attention,”
The security guard tells her.
She ignores him too.
Angry that she is terrified of love.
And of conversation.
She does not make eye contact.
So he gently places the notebook
she had dropped next to her on the table.
“Thanks,” she says
Without looking up.
Without noticing his kind blue eyes.
Without seeing that he would have been interested.
If she had looked up even one time
Or if she had smiled
Or if she had done
Anything
Human
At
All….
A-n early morn has broken,
B-ringing light to Sunday;
E-vening rain disappears,
G-ray haze fades away.
A-nother dusk has turned
I-nto a break of new dawn;
L-et the twilight leave, as the shadows are gone.
A-llow your life to go on,
B-egin to move forward;
O-pen your bag January twenty-ninth,
N-o one evades the security
G-uard.
Knickers in a twist make it hard
To hold things up high in regard
A little horseplay
Could blow one away
Just ask the Security Guard
I knew of a writer
who had to take the job as a kitchen cleaner
as no one wanted to publish his work
mind, he always had clean fingernails, when he sat
late at night composing words no one in the world
would ever bother to read.
When it became clear to him, he was an exercise
in futility, he quit his job grew a beard and his
fingernails grow long and dirty.
Crossing a bridge, he was about to jump but was
stopped by his inner police officer who said it was
against the law.
He had to write is own way and not imitate
the famous writers of the past and since he didn`t
have any style, took a long hot bath
and got a job as a security guard guarding tractors.
He doesn`t write anymore but waits for
his style of writing to show him how, because
he saw no point of writing for the pleasure of it.
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