I could not resist screaming and yelling at my highest level.
I have never been this out of control.
My husband heard about it at lunch.
And he works in another department
I was shrieking so loudly, and yelling the F word all over the place.
The other stockbrokers looks scared
As if they had never heard or used that word.
I was throwing things into my briefcase as I screeched.
The head of the department did not know that calling me dumb
Is something that I do not tolerate.
Especially since he was getting commissions off my commissions.
This was 1984, and I have never forgotten it.
I have tried to forget my behavior,
but that is something I may never forget.
I do not believe you will ever come back, my husband said.
Bingo.
The Day the Earth Stood Still
The First Tower
I’m dialing
my wife.
An airplane
has crashed through
my office wall.
Two stockbrokers
are carrying a torn and
shivering secretary
to the broken
staircase. The elevators
have sunken in
to the shaft.
“Honey, Call these numbers,”
I say. They are of families
we have never met.
She tells them their loved ones
are safe. Several people
climb toward the roof.
The fire department says
it’s the safest place.
They return saying
The door is locked.
Just in case, I say,
“Honey, I love you. Tell
the kids, I love them.”
Suddenly, a ball of fire.
Written in response to the 9/11 disaster.
Taken from the book,
The Breathng House Imagist Poems, 2006, by Marcielle Brandler
Amazon.com
Marcielle Brandler
A Skin Full of Dust
Smuts cover skins barely breathing scorched on hungry hope
no coat and no crust trickling from upper echelons of greed
dry shrivelled breasts do not feed the babies screaming in pain
Shallow sunken eyes speak louder than words falling foul
Star dust sprinkles from magician’s dreams sends a rainbow
gushing water crops of plenty justice life and dignity dispensed
sharing is caring and stockbrokers applaud broken domination
It was a dream after all and I cannot return to slumber and peace
22nd March 2017
Writer’s Rights
Martha Stewart glorified after prison
AIDS overwhelming uneducated African youth
Terrorism continuing to scare us senseless
The writer writes
Portraits being painted for history books
Scholars studying patterns of behavior
Terrorism inside these walls
The writer rights
Hip-Hop portrays a gangster’s persona
Saddam Hussein rots in a dark musty jail cell
Cancer’s evil agenda maintains its goal
The writer writes
Stockbrokers continue to figure cost basis
Pharmacists become more and more wealthy
New drugs approved daily by the FDA
The writer rights
The writer’s rights are no one’s but the writer’s
A poetic license to script an honest portrayal of the world we live in
Unafraid of what his outcome may be
The writer writes
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