When I re-broach a pressing, unresolved issue,
I wish you’d engage me in productive, fair debate
instead of withering me with sarcasm.
When did your seeming love for me morph into hate?
When I can’t do whatever you ask of me
“Right NOW,” I wish you would patiently wait.
I wish you wouldn't rudely foist your duties off on me.
You know I already have a full plate.
I wish you would stop treating me as your underling.
I long to be valued, as your equal, your cherished mate.
Please mend fences. Don't force me to leave
and burn bridges behind me. It will soon be too late!
Power is dynamite
Power is unleased
Unleased for evil
Unleased for good
Good brings joy
Good brings love
Love is of God
Love releases
Releases happiness
Releases freedom
Freedom to live
Freedom to be responsible
Responsible in relationship
Responsible in life
Life opens doors
Life for living
Living is a joy
Living each moment
Moment slowly make minutes
Moment do make hours
Hours to use gifts
Hours to understand
Understand oneself
Understand others
Others are important
Others make secure
Secure in life
Secure in all
All aspects
All that's worthy
Worthy ideas
Worthy duty
Duty of motherhood
Duty of home
Home is where the hearth warms
Home fills the heart
Heart filled with good
Heart filled with sympathy
Sympathy for situations
Sympathy for one's position
Position of underling
Position of powerlessness
Powerlessness at home
Powerlessness in business
Business of the world
Business of management
Management unrequited
Management of strength
Strength
Unrequited
umbrella unicorn underling understood utilizing Utopia
unless uncle Ulrich urged Uranus to undercut unicorn’s union
Union’s underground ugly units united umbrella unicorns
Unitarianism under siege, undercoated Uncle Ulrich,
undetermined units urged umbrella unicorn to unionize.
COLLECTIONS
ardent
worship
aflame
more them
a
mirage
an
etched
illustration
still
relevant
genuflections
inquietude
an
underling
unease
an
elusive
strange
intensity
unrevels
NOTE:THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE using spaces&breaks without grammatical symbols ,the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and responds thus making this enigmatic form a two way interplay & interpretatIon unique to the moment& changing according to mood is inherently variable.
Copyright © Brian Strand
Never disagree with the Officer Class
When you’re serving in the ranks,
Never disagree with the Officer Class
For you’ll never get any thanks.
They seem to think
The time they spent
Getting Commissioned
Makes them Omnipotent.
Heaven protect the squaddie
Who’s discovered to have been right
For the Officer Class hate the thought
Of an underling who proves to be bright.
The NCO learns as he earns his stripes
The approved way of how
To Impart common sense and wisdom
While appearing to kowtow.
You have to learn
And understand
How to make them think
They’re in command.
No never disagree with the Officer Class,
Learn to manipulate them with guile.
No never disagree with the Officer Class
For they get grumpy, prickly, and hostile.
Ignore this advice
If you choose
But if you do, brother,
You’re bound to lose.
The Start
A plain white piece of paper,
was waiting on my desk.
Waiting for me, just me.
Or Waiting for you...
just you?
Who put it there?
Why would they care?
What do they want?
Will it matter?
The reason for the surface,
clean and stolidly pure...
was to begin a story, start a poem,
or perhaps build a bridge to "possibility".
Emotion not yet caught,
quartered and or...
placed in the right spot,
will be needed to complete...
the process.
Time being the underling issue,
in all our lives.
We dream...
and even think...
and dwell on wonderful things,
but never put them down.
Instead, we put them off.
Time is really the answer.
Make it your own, bend it and
work it into "compliance-y" with your life.
Never let it take from you,
and give it only what you feel it is due.
Precious not to be wasted...
to be considered a treasure,
in every breath.
Again the paper waits.
The question remains...
The heart of a lion
The soul of a flea
The energy of a gnat
Please do not let this be me
Reaching into my junk drawer
I pick up three items that give me glee
A candy bar wrapper,
And a playing card with a decorated bee.
Dragons in my undercarriage,
Dolphin party in the sea,
This poem is starting to feel jazzy,
It is lively, and it’s free.
I line up the unicorns,
Who are laughing at my knee.
They ask Trixie to join them,
So she dances away with thee.
Her underling muses
Chip and Dale come running to me.
They are dying to write a poem,
So we line up the junk items three.
Let’s make it funny, says Chip
A cut up we all agree.
But Dale wants a sad poem,
So we begin to disagree.
Trixie's assistants laugh at my consternation
And run away you see,
So this is the end of the poem,
Which made me yell a “whee!”
I have always been a minimalist in my writing
using simple words and no ornamentation
I cannot do iambic pentameter
yet, my writing has a melody and rhythm
I started as a bitty little girl
in an attic room penning stories
negligible
a speck, a smidgen in the scope of this world
I saw a million things from my attic window
the birds, the seasons, the sky
I was bullied in school as a child
so I felt belittled and beaten down
but in my writing I threw off the scars
I still do with words unadorned and pure
I have been to the darkest, fathomless pit
had nothing
been an underling to abuse
kept down
but inside a humble flame burned
and I refused to be diminished one day beyond
so, I crawled up from my pit of nothingness
and I stand here a simple girl
who writes minimal art . . .
______________________________
December 19, 2018
Poetry/Free Verse/A Small Little Speck
Copyright Protected, ID 18-1095-610-01
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Mass effect, men refuse to learn from the past
Leaving little hope for our futures
Arrogance and supremacy has always stood the test of time
The actions of the kill giving underling misery
Irrational words converge the start of war and detest, never changing for centuries
The gift of independent thinking, are greatest asset, led to slaughter and bloodshed
Notorious for causing harm to all we know
In conclusion we are the seeds of repeating cycles of plagues
Scourging the lands for resources causing panic
Because of this thousands have died
To this day, never changed, it’s all just a haze
Hideous graves, we never caved, dark ages
Now the damage is done, torment and torture
Showing off the power you possess but all I see is injustice that is ruinous
This has been seen by the past
Truthful words of the future, incoming corrupting chaos
Brutality leads the poor to insanity
Grasping the little life that is worth holding
Sinister minds, lead the blind, cringing out insidious crimes
Anguish and strife, incoming spite
Do you feel in powered being scum?
The scars of obliterating leaving denial
Are planet is expiring with mass funeral pyres
To be unseen
The Battle of the Sexes
By Franklin Price
1/28/2017
The battle of the sexes
Not about the sword and sheath
Who will be above
Or who will be beneath
Who will be the leader
Who's the underling?
Neither one is who I say
Equality's the thing
Sharing in the doing
No matter what the task
“Why can't we just get along?”
Is the question you should ask
Day to day a balancing
Of how to get along
One secret's not to clam up
If the other says, “what's wrong?”
A relationship is honesty
And mutual respect
If not, I'm here to tell you
What it is you can expect
An increasing lack of interest
That soon will make you exes
End the war between you
And the battle of the sexes
Joanna’s off to London town in this her finest hour’
Ten years of hard labour have brought her to the Tower.
Not the Tower of London where folks have disappeared
But to the Dorchester Hotel to receive a rousing cheer!
Yes she’s finally done it; she’s truly made the grade
from underling, tearaway and paltry lowly maid.
Remember the little ‘Wheelie’ in the shopping mall!
Well that bonnie girl can now stand ten feet tall!
She’s fought against the odds because she had belief,
This has brought success and a great deal of relief:
I am so very proud of you, on this very special day,
a chartered accountant you've become, what more is there to say!!!!
In the last small armed grip
Of trenchant technocrat underling
Dissolved with poison stripped from putrid earnings
Tree of life displayed is churning
Urging the virgin men to give up toiling
To hold the last ember burning
And lay down the sword of foolishness
Vanished this wet dream syndicate
As dizzy spells of archaic control no longer fool
The articulate minds of creative surging
Young bliss beings in the prime of the sun
We will have known the war over
It could never be won
No skin could transform in its light
So with might is right ethic
Duality must banish
From electric thoughts so composed
A repose gathering
Nature unstrangulated
Trees unmangled
Soft sand caressed
As lapping waves
Lead us toward sanity
OLGA IVANOVA
Each day when I get to the office for a coffee fix,
A minor underling, an immigrant office-cleaner,
Olga Ivanova, greets me. She’s been at work since six
And off her floor you could eat your dinner.
Her bus takes an hour after a rain-soaked queue,
Leaving three small kids - abandoned by spouse -
In a cheap rented apartment near the zoo,
Where she looks after his sick mum too - that louse.
Tidies the reception area of the whole department;
Specially keeps office-copy of the daily paper for me;
Always says good evening, smiles acknowledgement
And hands it to me as I leave at five - oh - three.
Pray, where's the next stop, brilliant, all-knowing fiend,
After causing harm to your nation right up to the end?
Unleashing your poison on a tired, unsuspecting world,
Look where you are now after your lies have been told.
Wicked of you to push your country to worthless fighting,
Out through the back door you exit, a disgraced underling;
Lying through your teeth, causing much misery and death,
From the very start you plotted with each frenzied breath;
Oh, you forgot that even the self-righteous had to reflect,
War equally destroys the vanquished and its architect,
In the end you pay for each of your sinister mistakes;
To see you squirm in your hot seat with your paramour,
Zeus himself can’t save you as they lift you off the floor.
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