The silent assassins came floating down,
Tiny but deadly they came.
Two thousand dead mice,
Stuffed full of Tylenol,
On the island of Guam they deplaned.
To kill off the snakes
That are killing Guam’s birds
Tylenol should do the trick
A mere 80 milligrams
Can kill a grown snake
Or at least make them terribly sick.
I hope this works better
Than the Mongoose Brigade
We deployed on Hawaii’s fair shores.
They were sent to kill rats
But instead took long naps
And the birds are more rare than before.
You can hear the voices of our peers being silenced, ignored, shunned and distorted.
Staggering out of their bedroom doorways to the street corner to score a dime bag.
Bright, insightful kandi kids freezing in search of warmth from something to believe in that will make them look forward to see another day.
Where our economy has made financial prudence clear when talking about education, yet price tags of university tuitions skyrocket.
The refused, the ones with hope but no money or scholarships; tread the streets with the echoes of electro house pulsing in their skulls.
Those who strip themselves down and shred their own morals to scraps just to find themselves and to see their own limitations.
Searching for answers to the unknown, to ascertain what they are, who they are and why.
Timid in high school, pushed along with nothing and no one to put their creative vigor into.
The squeakiest wheels that were never even considered to be given a good greasing.
Faculties giving them lethargic hellos on the first day of school, bestowing celebrated goodbyes to them on graduation day, diplomas in hand.
Now are the ones slumped over in a lackadaisical position contemplating how they can afford an education.
They work eight to ten at seven twenty five an hour Monday to Friday and weekends staying in as not to blow their earnings.
Those who commute to university and balance a job with it, I applaud you.
The bewilderment of adulthood, the abundance of pressure and responsibility.
Awakened from nightmares of lost opportunities, missed trains and lost contacts.
To step out of bed and splash water onto a severely distressed face and staring into a mirror with a despairing look.
Then hoping a bus to Garfield to bring back weight for all the embryonic smokers not yet at the point of make or break, just save up enough to pave my own way.
Gazing at the town on a roof top, chugging down the tenth…no…twelfth beer of the night wondering how this all happened.
Wild sensations of kissing an attractive stranger, the rush of touching on things never felt, tasting pleasures only the lucky have known.
The passionate, yet dissolute yearning for that ever eluding orgasmic adrenaline. Pounding, Pounding, Pounding until the culmination of energy has come.
Flip sided to those dizzying, tear jerking thoughts of suicide, annihilation of ones being, the contradictions of their faith in themselves and the people around them.
Unexplainable waves of anxiety crashing onto the shore of a diminutive island of optimism
Striving to look past the panic, the gloominess and fury that may or may not be present. But to remain composed and press forward to what awaits them.
Coffee keeps them going. Cup after cup, late night cramming every bit they can; into their caffeine driven psyches until the indisputable crash and failure.
Packs and packs of menthol cigarettes to calm their rattling nerves but at the same time killing them slowly. Their lives will seem shorter than the time it took to finish one bogey when death is near.
Marijuana induced ventures to run down burger shacks, laughing hysterical in the car ride, eyes heavy with a most ridiculous elastic grim extending from ear to ear. While inside millions of thoughts and realizations of consciously simple thoughts and troubles become clear and unproblematic. So the joy is mirrored outside in.
LSD trips in Petruska dancing and singing in the rain! Making music, making love; playing pretend and creating art. Becoming a family while kicking back under the warmth of an illuminated tree.
MDMA streaming through the body, everything is as it should be, beautiful, lovely to touch, wondrous to stroke, marvelous to move. To contact and connect, converse and converge with the dwelling desire to share what you feel with everyone for it would be selfish and unpleasant to keep it in.
Mushrooms oh the emotional overflow I need not say more but damn.
The there are over the counter candies, oxycodone, oxycotin and codone. Xanax, painkillers and antidepressants. Ups, downs, side ways and backwards.
Selling addiction and dependency legally to kids. Making heroine, cocaine and speed easily obtainable to kids. Changing the names and giving out prescriptions so that the kids parents can feel like their actually helping their children but are subconsciously making it easier on them because they cannot handle they way their children actually are. Some parents actually do want help their kids and feel it is the only way, I wish it wasn’t so. Becoming zombies, mindless addicts before they even start to mature into puberty.
Oh, the monotonous, mundane rituals and agendas of our lives. School, work, sleep eat, the sluggish schedules and repetitions of yesterdays conversations and redundancy of itineraries we had plotted months prior.
Same people, the constant faces of boredom, groans of apathy and the fear of complacency.
We talk about how hum drum out lives have become and what we could to put some color in our world but don’t.
We speak of how unfair the system us but ultimately confuse ourselves and everyone else due to lack or organization and detcation so nothing is changed.
We speak of breath taking women we want to share sexual fantasies with but can’t even muster enough courage to send a trivial friend request.
Texting away for hours trying to court those who now occupy our minds and possess our hearts hoping they may allow us to acquire their attention and affection. Calling them only to receive futile dial tones knowing they are being evaded.
Weeping on and on for seemingly endless time frames of a dilapidated relationship that was so strained that a miniscule breeze could cause it to collapse but still clinging to every memory as if they were vital hieroglyphics depicting your very essence.
Brilliant theories blurted out in a drunken stupor.
Ingenious hypothesis shrouded in marijuana smoked out room.
Remembrance of friends long gone.
The marines, the navy.
The casualties of drug addiction.
The conquerors or their afflictions.
The insane locked away on the flight deck never to be seen again.
Teenage mothers unsure of themselves, abandoned by their families for they believe that they brought fictional shame upon the family’s name. The fate of the child is unclear but the mother’s everlasting love shines through any obscurities in its way.
Dear mother of the new born winter’s moon may the aura of life protect you and your baby.
The father gone without a trace.
He will never know his daughter.
And it will haunt him forever.
Parents bringing up their kids with values and morals, god fearing, devil worshiping, mantras and meditation. Psalms, the Holy Quran, The Bhagavad Gita. Islamic anecdotes and Jewish parables.
The names all different
The message the same
The stories unlike
Kabala, scientology and wiccans
Amish and Mormons
All spate paths that intertwine and runoff each other then pool into the plateau of eternal life.
But do we have faith in our country, our government?
They do not have faith in us. Cameras on every street corner, FBI agents staling social media, recordings of our personal lives. 4th amendment where have you gone?
We say farewell to Oresko the last veteran of the last great war. And revisit the Arab spring, Al-Assad’s soldiers opening fire on innocent protester, one hundred fifteen thousand lay dead. Bin laden dead, Hussein hanged, Gaddafi received every ounce of his comeuppance. War, terrorism, the fear of being attacked or is it an excuse to deplete these countries of their natural resources like we’ve done our own? Throwing trillions of dollars to keep the murder machine cranking away, taxes, pensions, credit scores, insurance and annuities all cogs in the convoluted contraptions plight.
My dear friend contemplates this every night laying in bed, fetal position; the anxiety if having to be a part of this.
Falling apart on the inside but on the outside, an Adonis, playboy, Casanova wanna be. Who worshiped the almighty dollar, gripping it so tightly until it made change, drank until he had his fill falling face first into the snow. The guy who lead on legions of clueless girls wearing their hearts on their sleeves not knowing he had a girlfriend the entire time. Arranging secret meetings in hidden gardens, streaking into the early morning. Driving to Ewing in his yellow Mustang to woo a sado masochistic girl. The chains and whips do nothing to him he is already numbed by the thrill. Then he comes home, lays in bed until one, with no job and having people pay for his meals.
He knows what he does and who he is wrong. He recites and regurgitates excuses endlessly. He cries because he knows he is weak, he knows he must fix himself. I sit on the edge of myself with my fingers crossed hoping maybe, maybe he will set himself straight.
My chum who can talk his way out of any confrontation and into a woman’s panties. Multitudes of amorous affairs in backrooms, backseats, front rows of movies theaters. Selfish, boastful and ignorant, yet woman fling themselves at him like catapulted boulders over a medieval battle field just to say hello. These girls blind to see what going on, for their eyes were taken by low self esteem. A need to be accepted, to feel wanted even only for fifteen minutes. Poor self image, daddy issues, anorexic razor blade slicing sirens screaming on about counted calories and social status. Their uncontrollable mental breakdowns and emotional collapse. Their uncles who raped them, their parents who split up and confusing their definition of love and loyalty for the rest of their lives. Broken homes, domestic abuse and raised voices, sending jolts of fright into the young girl’s fragile minds. I send my sorrows to you ladies, to see such beautiful creatures suffer then be used and thrown away with the condom that was just thrust deep into their loins.
Then I see women and men of marvelous stature, romantic in the streets holding everyone and everything in high regards. Finding beauty in anything and anyone. Enjoying every second as if the rapture was over head eating exotic foods from unheard of countries and cultures. Bouncing to the sound of whimsical , reverb ricochets and sense stimulating music. Huffing inspiration to creative something out of thin air. Dancing to retired jazz and swing albums as if no time had past since their conception. Wearing bold colors and patterns, thrifty leather shoes or suede.
Dawning pre-owned blazers because why spend hundreds of dollars on new clothes just to look good but feel uncomfortable with a hole in your pocket. Dressing up but dressing down, so class yet urban I love it, chino, pea coats and flannels so simple but chic.
At night they go to underground dens, sweaty bodies, loud music and freedom. Expressive manifestations glowing fueled with MDMA and other substances to further their enjoyment of the dark glorious occasion. Sporting colorful bracelets, not watches for time is of no concern to them, they have all eternity they know that.
Going to book stores, coffee shops just to have some peace of mind and a moment of silence to themselves so that can weave the tapestry of imaginative innovation. Writing their own versions of the same story, endless doors of perception, reading news papers and taking it with a grain of salt. Watching the news on TV with a hand full of salt. Searching for the real story so they can know if the world they all live in is actually safe.
She who made her own way breaking hearts, rolling blunts and making deals. The flower child of the modern age, left the Rainey days in search of radiant sunshine, idealistic. Reality was subjective, purple dyed hair, multicolored sweater with sandals on her feet. A ten inch bowl with bud from California packed in tightly. Coming from Dumont to Bergenfeild then on to Philly to Mount Vernon. Off to Astoria and the Heights. Now to Sweden laying in the grassy plains below the mountains. Good for you my friend whom I have loved, may fortunes of unsullied joy come to you and all you meet.
Since you’ve left I have encountered drunken burley firemen just trying to have a good time. Pounding down Pabst Blue Ribbon as if it were water; as if it were good tasting beer. But heroes none the less.
EMTs, young eighteen years old high school graduates, saving lives reviving people who are a mere one inch close to death.
Sport stars getting scholarships thanks to their superior skills and strength.
Striking beauty school students who are into making the people of this world a little bit more beautiful on the outside.
All these people, successful, doing things. Departing to their desired destinations. I see inside them, they carry baggage, loneliness and insecurities. I can feel their guilt slowing them down. All have their loads but it’s the way they carry them that shows who they really are. And to me their all gems.
Not far in Paterson I watch the junkies limping across busy winding street, perusing a severely needed fix. “Diesel!” they shout to no one, asking for spare change and if bold enough a ride to a shady sketchy place. I give them a dollar and politely decline. They’ll die without it, it’s like eating glass it does no good for any of us anyway. Vomiting up bile and blood, twitches and shivers are all you feel when it’s not in you. They cannot stop, they need help. Why not help them instead of “assisting” those who are homosexual? Cleansing so they can be granted entry to the kingdom of God. Looking down on people who have found love and understanding and a deep attraction to others who just so happen to share alike genitals.
Narrow minded uproars about the spread of AIDS, nonsense! The puritanical onslaught of those who want nothing more than the rest of us, love. Gay, homo, faggot, queer, how about kind, funny, genuine human being? The right to be married and divorce should be an option for everyone to enjoy. The strains and hardships of matrimony are yours if you want them. If you don’t agree don’t hate or harm just allow them to be peacefully. Same goes for anything for that matter, Jehovahs going door to door, Mormons from Burbanks. New ideas are never a bad thing, they’re not a waste of time. On average you have about eighty years to mull over your options.
Some people don’t live long enough to do so, cancer is on the rise, blood diseases, sexual diseases, natural disasters coming right out of left field and blindsiding the innocent bystanders of both hemispheres. Some go through life handicapped, autism is apparent these days. Schizophrenia, asperburgers, ADD and ADHD. Some lose their golden memories of their many valuable years or some cant remember whatever transpired only a few moments ago. Some go through life delusional or bipolar. Some cant even sleep at night but they still carry one. And if assistance is needed it is our job as a race to help our brothers and sisters, no one deserves to be excluded from the gala of life. The be denied by society and pumped with brightly colored pills from doctors promising a cure but prescribing a crutch.
Finding solace in sincerity.
The serendipity of it all hasn’t been uncovered and that keeps me going.
“Radiate boundless love towards the entire world above, below and across. Un hindered without ill will without enmity.” Oh Buddha the truth as it ever was.
Who is he who keeps these thoughts from the conscious minds of the population?
Who is it that distracts us from the humbling beauty and overwhelming devastation of this place of existence we’re in?
It’s they who do under the table parlor trick behind our backs.
Those who broadcast mind numbing so called reality TV shows without an underlying value or meaning.
Those who produce music, proclaiming extravagance to be the end all be all gluttonous goal we all should aim to achieve.
And those who turn noble causes into money making scams and defile pure ideas.
And of course those who give false promises of easily obtained bright futures, those who don’t care, those who steal, kill, curse, bad mouth and lie. But still manage to get elected into positions that more or less decide out fates. Monsters, demons, banshees howling inconsequential worries and leaving us deaf to hear the real issues.
The heartless selfish people who make the thoughtless decision to have abortions because they lacked the self control to take the time to get protection and do not want to deal with their consequences, feeling no guilt throwing away what is the very make up of life and love they had created themselves! Although there are those who do so for they cannot support what they have created and give it a life they deserve, I can understand but I still weep but I empathize with such tragic forked road decisions.
Mystery men raping innocent home walkers and killing them or leaving them to live their lives in pain and shame. We can make our own trouble but we can also undo them. No one has a right o put hardships upon us and if so at least I will fight.
Who are the ones to look for when guidance and facts are needed? Look to the poor, the unfortunate poverty stricken open eyed weary ones. They’ll tell you how things look at from t he bottom of the hill. Ask the ravers and hipsters, college students they tell you how it is when climbing the hill. Joyous, miraculous realizations illuminating the visions of the mind. Growing fields of love and dreams. Weeding out the falsehoods with ease.
Ask the children, so innocent and naïve, giving a simple yet meaningful perspective. Same as the geriatric wise ones who time wears thin. Both have intrinsic values and wants.
Talk to the lustful lovers they can tell you how in one moment a tangent can be created in one foul swoop. Or the leathered whip weilding, dominant/submissive practitioners of pain. They’ll show you the exquisiteness of pain and bondage, domination and twisted, alternative pleasures. The nine to fivers commuting as if their lives depend on it…and it does! They’ll tell you how precious every minute of every day is. The drug dealers, the drunks have outlandish perspectives, yes but they have merit all their own.
The mentally unstable, chemically unbalanced children of the sun.
The soldiers, parents of struggle. Or go to the metaphysical; God, Ganesh, Vishnu, Shiva, Gahandi, the Dali Llama. Ancient prophecies shed light on your darkest days.
Travelers have been to many places, come across many persons, seen many things. Interview a man from Munich, see what he has to say.
Confront a delinquent or a deviant, they have voices too.
We all come together in this wild weird universe where everything is relative. Where everything happens for a reason but without a single motive. A place where explanations and ambiguity go hand in hand. To achieve balance, understanding, self awareness, self confidence and control of emotion and thought; endless unconditional love and the notion to stand up for ones self must be acquired. Equality and tranquility flowing effervescently across the cosmos. No separation or bigotry no thought of color, race or creed, color and background. With all our senses heightened to see all the truth in the world, to smell the sweet aroma of familiar places, to feel the cool wind on a warm day, to taste the sweet and sour flavors that make up a day. And to hear all the wondrous sounds around us music, laughter, crying, honesty, lies and to distinguish between them without having to look.
The ability to articulate all you’ve seen and heard. Everything you’ve tasted and smelled and touched. The emotions felt, the thoughts you’ve gone over and over time after time. The eradication of grief and suffering. Heartbreak, loss and demolishing surprise. All the memories and people you’ve met there. The places you’ve traveled to, the relationships built and destroyed. The lessons learned or forgotten or maybe the ones haven’t grasped just yet they are you! They are us! All the same yet different to create a mixture of assorted frequencies and combinations of destines and the trails that take us their! So rise my friends Rise! RISE!
It’s no surprise that online male dating profiles with photos of your penis get more action that those without. Really, what girl is going to show the slightest interest in you based on your taste in movies, what Ivy League University you attended, your executive level job at Google or your description of an ideal date? They need to know what you're packing. But not everyone has a baby arm as photogenic as 'the Hedgehog', Ron Jeremy or as unique as Slick Willy's ‘Clinton Kink’. And we definitely learned from liberal hero and would-be Mayor of New York, Rep. Anthony Weiner (D - N.Y.), that an underwear shlong shot just won't cut it. Boxers never does a baloney pony justice and belies a false modesty. It says the subject wanted to glorify his Hebrew National sausage but was too nervous to Tweet his bare putz so it's demurely lurking under the sheath of Calvin Kleins to make it somehow kosher. Frankly, it's not. A clothed cock shot is sort of like being a little bit pregnant or totally treif. You better show the whole hog if you want to win the Blue Ribbon. You may only place seventh and garner a purple ribbon to match the varicose veins girdling your purple-headed warrior. Come on guys, be a winner -- not a Weiner.
We asked celebrity fashion photographer and professional cocksucker, Steven Meisel, to share his secrets on snapping a hot cock shot. Steve's claim to fame was his renowned photographs of Madonna in her 1992 book titled "Sex." There were numerous fashion personalities who got discovered by Meisel, including Naomi Campbell, Coco Rocha, Lara Stone, Kristy Turlington, Raquel Zimmerman and Linda Evangelista. Nobody knows how to shoot wanker better than Steve because he is a notorious butt pirate who spends at least one third of his waking hours with a dangler either shoved down his throat or up some aspiring assistant's ass. Here are the Meisel secrets, exclusively told to Cosmo.
1) Peenjazzle it you expect to dazzle
Landscape, landscape, landscape! It's a jungle out there so unless you're Tarzan and she's Jane, you better trim your secret garden if you don't want your monkey wrench to be mistaken for Cheeta. Either mow the whole lawn or just manscape, weeding here and there where and when necessary. Any length is acceptable except the short prickly length for your prick that is equivalent to 400 grit sandpaper best suited for removal of varnish, skateboard grip tape, or eliminating the top three layers of epidermis from your date's pubic area.
2) Turn your tool to the right
According to new research from DeVry University, the left side of your penis is the sexiest. Why? Researchers found that our left balls tends to show more pink that our right which people think makes you look younger and hence more attractive. You can always use Temptu AIR Pod Blush, $30, or Photoshop to bring out the pink. We strongly advise against smashing your balls with a ball pein hammer. Read my lips, it's a ball pein hammer, not ball penis hammer. No, pein is not an abbreviation for penis. Yes, Peenjazzle has the pein sound in it because in that particular case it is an abbreviation. NO MORE QUESTIONS. I'm a celebrity fashion photographer not fucking Wikipedia!
3) Pay attention to the lighting
When light hits your johnson from above, it creates shadows on your balls, particularly under the scrotum. So whether you’re inside or outdoors, try to stand behind the sun or away from overhead lights. Tilt your penis up slightly to minimize any casts. On the other hand, tilt it down slightly if your making a cock cast.
4) Play the angles and look longer
A picture of a meat thermometer free floating in space won't give any indication of exactly how big the member is. You can totally trick the camera into making your bone appear longer and thicker. Here’s how: hold the camera close to the head of the one-eyed-snake and shoot. Alternatively, you can put a lifelike figurine next to it, like your younger sister's Angry Bird, so the angle will make your pecker look enormous. Please resist the temptation to dry hump her Angry Bird from behind -- your sis' is only eleven and she'll tell your mom that her plush smells like cheese. Your mom wasn't born yesterday and knows the origin of cheese. You don't want to make that bitch angry or she'll hide your PS3 game controller. She's probably a control freak like my mom was. That's why I'm gay. I admit I also love to suck cock -- but that has nothing to do with what Cosmo is paying me for.
5) Make you ding-a-ling say "Cheese"
Nobody likes a smirking Mr. Winky. It looks conceited like Obama using a big word. Don't overdo it. Your dong should appear natural and half-chubbed, not cheerleader perky and erect. Practice have your penis smile in the mirror. Aim for a confident grin that says, 'I could have any girl, but I want you because of your congenial personality and your savvy Cosmo style!'
6) Make your dipstick shiny and bright
One of the best ways to make your tripod look more radiant is to jerk off right before the photo shoot. Then apply Nars Lip Gloss in Sweet Dreams Sheer Formula, $24, on the head to give your cock that fuller, more suckable appearance.
7) Your junk should look glowy, not greasy
Makeup artists will tell you that the camera flash can amplify any shine you have on your tallywacker. Keep your Peter's complexion matte by applying a makeup primer like Smashbox Photo Finish, $36, under your foundation.
Follow these 7 Cosmo tips and you're ready to post your irresistable pussy magnet of a cock on Craigslist, Frumdate, eHominygrits.com, Zooosk, Snatch.com, SpeedFucking, ChristianMingleTingle, jDate$, UpForCash, ArabLounge, SingleMuslim, ShadyShaadiHindus, AdultFriendFinder, Fuckbook, JustHookUp, SocialSex, Instabang and PlentyofWomenWhoSmellLikeFish.com
Celebrity Pussies: Cosmo's Field Guide to the Perfect Squish Mitten
For my related pussy pieces please visit:
The Pussy Song: World's Dirtiest & Most Outrageous Poem
Kids Say the Darndest Things: "Hey little fella', what can Santa get you for Christmas?"
Merkins: Vajazzling Your Vagina
For my down under shmuck piece please visit:
Portrait of an Artist as a Young Penis
You drank to escape and to ease
Instead your desires clouded your soul
The whimper shouts from the inside to stay still
To sleep alone another night
To stay good and do what's right
Is ignored as your demon is above my shoulder
And your whisper is in my ear
As you wait til silence marks my lips
That is when you make your slay and cause me to slip
Surrounded by darkness, defenselessness
You suffocate my pleads of no
As you trick yourself into illusions of my conscious consent
And you shame me down,
My mind absent as you expose my lifeless, bare body
And my blank stare
Did you see my eyes?
They were speaking to you,
If you saw that girl that used to hang around and laugh
Or did you see a piece of meat, incomprehensible of what you were capable of doing
So vulnerable, she'll never tell
Oh sly you, thinking it was okay
To let everyone see, leaving invitations for the unwanted
And me to break upon their touches
My flesh bruised with fingertips
My mind bloody with their urges
Blacked out from shame and guilt
Only Its my fault, I deserved this filth?
You took away the last of my innocence
Left me unwanted and broken,
Not knowing love but only to be used
I didn't chose this, you abused and created this
Left behind once thought friends
They turn into monsters I fear
We all so broken,
From the fairy tales of love we mourn
So we seek love in the bottom of the bottle
To feed the power of denial
As we justify our actions fueled by the beast
To hurt and destroy others
so we can share the pain and ruin of loneliness together
An illusion of unity as we slowly slaughter one another
To black out the last of our guilt
Only we turn into the thoughts of our filth
Afraid to take that next big leap, what do I fear?
Conscious of my decisions but when will I care?
Expected limits of my life, will I remain stuck here?
A last resort, my mental breakdown
The trembling of hands that would make anyone seem nervous
Straps and pills couldn't do the trick
Time to myself, always been a riddle
I haven't learned to swim in the real world
Have I asked for help..or will I be forced to drown with my ship?
Your hair is as soft as a golden fleece,
in the mid night quiet i said,
rain grace on us and heal us and we shall lie down in peace,
a heavenly blessing to bring us all calm
the rain in the background of your favorate matisse,
the line of my fortune,
stretched across your palm.
The light is dimmed and the prayer finshes the day,
blankets of cotton ,
and blankets of crochet,
The smell of your body,
in the month of may.
I feel a dream is near,
as i drift on a stream,
a picture of peace with a handsome gondolier,
perhaps it is Venice ,
or some where on a sunbeam.
I let myself go as if i am in flight,
reaching ever upwards,
what a beautiful sight!
i find myself in a forest of eternal green,
blossoms and buttercups,
and a lake of aquamarine .
Then suddenly the alarm awakes me oh so quick,
i better get up now,
i must not miss a trick!
i eat my breakfast slowly and wonder where i went,
the flowers and the dreaming,
what did it represent?
I think it would be fun to be in love,
but merely fun. I couldn't see the obsessive
nature taking over me, I couldn't see
myself falling for that trick again. And
anyway, there's uni fast approaching
and I am tied to the tracks. There is
no escaping the rest of my life, it hurtles
toward me at the speed of light. I think
it would be fun to be in love, but
merely fun. Like when your hand moves
up my thigh and when you kiss me
while I'm on the phone. Fun like drugs
in the dead of night, but fun is for children
and I'll soon be no child.
such a trick
it is easy
so when it pricks
the marks it leaves
tattoos of a fix
to remind you
subsides for shallow
to tell you
off when said
to constantly hue
any chances of you
doing it again.
"What are your aspirations, son?"
He sort of looked at me.
His big black eyes were narrow slits,
And he smiled gingerly.
"You've all the spiritness of youth,
You've faith in everything you do,
But in this modern business world,
They'll be of no use to you."
"The public holds in high regard
The image we portray.
It's an image we've worked long and hard
To flitter just their way."
"Confidence, Integrity, Resourcefulness,
And a bit of Corporate Pride.
They eat it up just like
A fat kid on a roller coaster ride."
Just remember the five altruism's
That have helped us grow and grow.
Hide them deep within your soul,
So you will always know.
1: To thine own self be true -
So be very, very true to you
In every single thing you think and do.
And who could possibly know
What would be except for you?
So, put your wants and needs up front,
And half the work is done.
All you really need to know
Is that you are number one.
2: The public doesn't have a clue
When it comes to what they need.
Just look at all the fast food joints,
And all the rats they feed.
People are like squirrels,
They'll stuff their little hut
With anything and everything
That seems to be a nut.
So, it's our job to convince them
We have just the nut they need.
And we'll show them how they need it now,
With resilience and speed.
It doesn't matter if they do or not.
But simply that they need a lot-
Of nutty do-dads pound for pound,
And we produce the finest do-dads around.
3: Only tell the Public what
We know they need to know.
Promise them whatever makes
Your paycheck grow and grow.
It's ok to stretch the truth
A little, or a lot.
So seize every opportunity
And feed that melting pot.
Rules are meant to tweak and twist
If it helps you get ahead.
And every now and then someone
Will digest what you've said.
They'll read between the lines
And question every mark you make.
If someone pays attention,
To the little lies you tell,
It might be fun to tease
Their curiosity a spell.
Fill them up with confidence,
And help them see the light
That the choice they've made so quickly
Could very well be right.
4: There is no such thing as conscience.
There is no such thing as guilt.
There is no such thing as uncertainty
Within this house Jack built.
Without a bit of Winter,
We would never see a Spring.
And if success were all that easy
Everyone would be a King.
Do not cling to the lie of guilt
When Success greets you today,
Nothing ought to matter more
Than getting things your way.
And as you rise your Corporate Ladder,
Never forget from where you came.
In the politics of business,
One must learn to play the game.
5: Become a master of manipulation.
Learn to point and click.
Practice barking orders,
That should do the trick.
Learn to feed the coffer's.
And to delegate each needed task.
Your Team should react with all
Without the need to ask.
And if some undertaking
Succumbs to its death,
And you find that all your labor
Has breathed its final breath,
Know well that you can shaft the blame
To some employee with no name,
Anyone who's very new-
Reprimand them in all kindness,
They made the Company look bad.
Explain how disappointed you are,
And that hell yeah, you're kind of mad.
Remind them their work ethic
Seems abysmally poor,
And shower them with blessings
As you shove them out the door.
I'm sure they'll find employment
Within the year, or two.
Whatever does it matter
If it doesn't effect you?
And then he grinned a stoutly grin
And scratched his graying beard,
And peered at me through eyes that
Looked a cosmic stab of weird.
"When I first came here,
I was all of seventeen.
Young and scared and lazy,
Unskilled and very green."
"They put me in the Mail Room
Sorting out the daily grind.
But I knew one day I'd leave
That aimless misery behind."
"And I'd be giving orders
To the ones who'd ordered me.
It was then I realized the kind
Of man I'd want to be."
"So you take to heart my wisdoms,
And remember each one well.
They'll keep you goal oriented,
And help you break out of that shell."
"Just how old are you, boy?"
He spoke with a patient pride.
I think I mumbled ten,
And his eyes just opened wide.
I stuttered for a moment,
Uncomfortable and such.
I did not really care to be
Around him very much.
I chewed on my bottom lip
And looked quietly away,
Then asked my Uncle Greedo
If I could go outside and play.
Copyright © 2013 Richard D. Remler
Total parrot care
Cried the signboard
In the narrow sleepy by-lane
I gave it a dreamy stare.
I have been too rare on this road
Coming this way was no need
But when I chanced upon that signboard
My search ended for parrot feed.
Is there anybody there?
I echoed de la mare
Found none at the counter
Not even the shopkeeper!
Dismayed I looked around
If some human semblance could be found
But fell nothing in my gaze
Other than a parrot in a cage!
Turning to leave I was stopped by a voice
Find here sir a variety of choice
Not just parrot feed
Under one roof all that they need.
Who is speaking I asked in awe
There wasn’t a human face I saw
But could tell it with certainty
There were eyes watching me.
Don’t leave sir without the delicious pellet
Once you take it you’ve to come back
Serves well a parrot’s palate
The bird loves this crunchy snack.
It now emerged who was playing the trick
I was hearing parrot speak
None other there not one human folk
The shop was run by parrot talk!
I scampered out with one long hop
Disappeared the lane the parrot shop
I was tossing on my sweated bed
By this funny dream that rocked my head!