Hi . . . This is about the kinds of people who work in corporate big money office buildings . . . Imagine them at lunchtime, how they interact and picture the scene in any . . .

Busy little bistro

Sharp - sharks - circle - the - pack
Pinstripe finned and eager
Snapping their snacks back with ease
Points to prove with nothing to lose  
No cracks in their creases
They're keen to return to the fray.
These boys play with girls
Aren't yet uncles with nieces
Just unproven throwaway pieces . . .
In shiny  . eat ***** . suited up . Chelsea boots
Bidding for ***** with cute looks and loot
Touting with confident ***** . . .
As mobile as their smart devices
Loose

Next . . . ?
And fresh from a mornings abuse
And fifteen years of fear . .
Beleaguered older shirts sit . .
Flogged dogs with weak barks
Parked packed into packs.
Tongue tied ties tied together
Safety is numbers
Get each others backs
These partially satisfied cats
Know today is NOT their day . .
That was yesterday . . .
Obliging lives and mortgages
The reasons why they stay

Passing Cabs cruise . . .
Seen it all before.
Sat in the back a high class *****
Glazed eyes glancing away  
From her play-away payday
Nibbles in the boardroom . .
Napkins . . for the dribbles
A working lunch for this Girl
Her money-shot a wrap without applause
Was just a  . . . pause  . . . between paws . .

Then Dora on reception
John, who minds the door
Evie in the IT room
Or dave . . who buffs the Marble
Sparkles glinting in the floor . .
And the guards . . who guard . . what exactly . . ?

All of this . . ? Networking . . !!!
Everybody's selling something
It doesn't quite stink
But it definitely smells
A little high

As time whiles by
Seems this
Is the state of our nation
And in this state
Defines our aspirations
And yes . . this state's a splinter
Taunting my imagination . . .
Do I stake my place within this game
Or sit in observation
Commentating on a race
Where human nature fakes it's place
Where people sit as players
Yet no one wears their own face

This is about a friend who inspires me. a single mum, though not through choice; working as an escort, though not through any real choice . . I could have written about her daily grind, stubborn persistence, commitment . . though, when i babysat for her, i grew to know a different side of her, so . .through her daughters eyes,  I'd like you to meet my amazing friend

Constance

Her blocks are the building of my life....
Her palate ? . . A rainbow of crayons,
Glitter for stars upon sparkling smiles.
Pride set . . Within my sunrise eyes.
Her strength . . my faith . . In a Mothers arms
This worker bee queen pollenates my mind
With fine aspirations . . We Blossom . . I bloom

This bagel baking children's entertainer . .
My Educator . . Guardian of the School gates . .
My Guiding and providing angel
Wears Big Girl Pants . . with sassy pride
In the absence of an insufficient man . .

Never complains

Who, when I ask why  . . Asks why not ?
Chides my moods and minds me kind . .
Listens . . and listens . and listens and listens  . .
Tells cinema for bedtime stories ,
Giggles when I wobble ,
Tickles outrageously,
Ties her smile  . With a lipstick bow

She Breathes gentle truths . .
Dries my tears discreetly . .
Proves and improves her worth
Everyday . . She's A  . . . Sunny side up
Spaghetti hoop spell and
My Candy-floss Mind spins  
Glistens . . with Magic

This is about my Grandparents. They got married in the 1920's . . When one didn't get divorced.
My Grandfather kept a diary, though he didn't know my Grandmother read it most days.
He believed he'd been trapped into marriage, for much of their time together and was very bitter . . He failed to see what she was all about for a very long time . . Not the easiest marriage . . This is about that.

Eiderdown Diary

In previous prose
The pages of my days
Payed homage to my . .
Crucified vows.

What I thought love .
Meant Ambition . . sold for scrap . .
Traded for a shotgun wife's,
Wed . locked . Bed . . .
White lies in kisses

A Mans need
******* two more souls
From that sanitary bed before
Work withdrew me . . .
Fridays drank frustration dry
Saturday screamed . . for Sundays relief . .
My respite found in working weeks

I drank her tears for years
Bound by habitual responses
Through disabled conversations . .
Through polite goodnights I . .
Sought Belief . . .
Yet still washed Sundays Cars

Then Pension planned retirement . .
Though Circumstance a change

My never mind Lady
Beckoned . . Persuading
The Cancer Degrading my Days away
My shadow sipped her sun
Became perfume in pages
My Eiderdown Diary

Morphine removed me
Soothed me to Bed
Time instead she said
To understand . . Then
Kissed my forehead . .
Held me dead

Office Gossips . . . Awful people . . .

Gossipygossipygossipygossipygossipygossip . . Ahhhhhh

Gossips ! . . . Ssshhhhhhhh . .

Have you heard ?

It's the . . 'shame it's a shame' game . .

Though no one's to blame,
No one with any
Particular name . .
Not really . . ?
Not now . . anyhow . .
It's been spun around town . .
That you said . . sincerely . .
' I'm SO glad we met ' . . . .

Well . .
Your words hit their mark
Were not shots in the dark
More . . insidious darts
Which promised to spark
Even more . .

Then . .

Then . . YOU . . walked away, ( ?? )
same as you were
the day before.
Where doing the right thing . .
Well . . . it just didn't count . .

Since when gossip moved in
Common sense moved on out
As the NEED for a rumour
'BURIED . ITS . SNOUT
Scenting  . . scandal
Or news . . .
To peruse and abuse
And ultimately
Maybe  just . . to amuse . . .


Do the gossips win ???
Or the rest of us . . Lose ???



Oh . . . .
The moral of my little muse
IF THE HORSE DON'T TALK
THEN IT'S NOT REALLY NEWS
It's  just personal spin?
Which belongs in the bin

This is about the frustration of being a father, after a divorce

In between

In-between
These alternating saturdaze
my children whirr . . .
Some telephonic conversation point
They, hazy fantasy . . Half Imagined lives
Now . . Mummy and daddy
Don't play husbands and wives
Anymore . . Each has
Like carrion for seagulls
Stashed Respective Legal beagles
To one side
as incisive as their fickle knives
And Baying for partition
Crave To slice the final pieces
From this pies remaining lives

So . . This is here
where we are now
No more catch up at the days end
Not tucked to bed
Not kissed goodnight
No stories nor
No prayers to send
There's nothing not
Nor can I do
To make this feeling mend . . . .

Since Each has their part
in this narrative marked,
Queued slots in time
All's written down, agreed
Is for the benefit of all
Is legislated for, defined

so . . . . we wait . . . .
Each flicks their counter stick
days become hours as
Slow minutes tick
by and by . .
Then when I see them at the weekend
I tell myself the biggest lie
That some piece of the pie
Is better

This Poem's about a close friend of mine. It came about following another tearful conversation at silly o'clock in the morning . . Some guy she'd slept simply waited for her to fall asleep, then just left . . Horrible really . . So, if you can picture a bar where girl sees boy ? . . Meet my friend kitten . .

Kitten

She's More Kitten . .
Than She's kitty Kat

I wish she would
Remember that
Before her claws
Engrave his back . . .
When it's too late . .
To . change her tack . .

Yet she,
As every Kitty will,
Pursues her dream . . .
This pretty playful Kitty,
Craves the saucer,
And the cream . .

She almost chooses
Not to see
That he . . .  
'A shady lady Burglar'
Craves not . .
A yowling prowling Tom
He would deftly
Pick her pocket . .
Tip the catch
Upon her locket . .
He simply seeks
To shoot his lot . .
Move on

She throws a smile
Across the bar
He catches this
Then slinks across
It's not so far
Sits . . .  
Now . . sensing need
He seeks to sow a seed
With sly slight of hand . .
He takes the lead . .  
Flirts . .
Soft verbal ministration
Slowly building her frustration
Teasing her imagination
Brings his tongue up to the table
Till she simply is unable
To . . . resist . . .

She knows tonight . . that . .
Her fairly funky *******
Will . . Be added to this liars list

With verbal tango
Now concluded
Neither party is deluded
To the spot
She stays though . .
Rooted . . .
Excited . .  now She knows
Her Closet will be looted . .
Then her pocket will be picked . . . .

Did kitten let herself get caught
Or was she really tricked . . ?

( k . . So we r gonna pause here, since I didn't write anything poetical about ******* . . Cos, well, it's a doing thing, more so than a writing thing lol . .so, for the sake of the narrative imagine these two knocking back their drinks, swiftly exiting the bar grabbing a taxi, legging it back to hers n having a bit of a **** . .two mins, maybe three if she's a lucky girl . . Then we can finish the poem :-)

Afterwards . . . . . . And in spoons . . I might add .

So now . . . Is not so much
As was before . .
When she was dripping with allure . .
His promises as flimsy
As the Dress which she once wore . . .
And now his points
Are on the board . .
This is a time consuming chore

And as She's Drifting . .
Within satisfied silence
He waits silent for her sleep
Her breathing deepens
He could weep,. .
He Checks quickly, with a peep
Then he bolts . . stealthy
For the door . .
He may . . Or maybe not
Be coming back . . For more . .

All's quiet for a while . . Until . .

Within the dawning of her morning . .
Through soft stretching . . gentle yawning
Only fingerprints betray . . .
The fact he was 'another guy'
Who came . . . to leave . . .
Not stay

Now . .
Should kitty smile ?
More kitty Kat . .
Will kitty p'raps
Remember that
When next is charmed
By coolish cat
Be ***** . .  
Not both door and mat

Oh My . .

Oh My,
You made a difference
Since whilst
Under your influence
I found again my smile . .
I felt you saved me .
If only for a little while
I was not least . . .
Yet although
A mainly Carnal Feast
We're we . .
There were those
Moments of connection
Which we reached . . .
Feelings real, yet so oblique
Touching something quite unique

But, touching wasn't reaching .
That connection passed me by .
In parody . . A tragedy
An incidental lie
When teasing through the fragments
Of a moment in my mind
The feel of you in memory
Is all that I can find . .

Requiem

I won't be happy
Till you're gone
I'll then take steps
Start moving on
Yet here we are
Just sharing space
Where neither knows
Their role or place
You flit about
Like half a Ghost
And still my Heart
Provides the host
For feelings
Which I can't afford . .
I need to nail
The final Board . .

So I sit here, wait for the Day,
A time to come, when I can say
I'm done, and proudly stand alone,
That I have examined, dug the grave
Now laid to rest
This particular Bone . . .

Well, I've written two . . . sonnets . .

first ones from the point of view of a typical twit youngish bloke . when he realises his latest conquests a bit keen like . . . He writes a poem . . . Leaves it lying around carelessly

So I'm to meet .your mum and dad ? . . .
But I thought this .  a one time **** . . .
Not children planned or Sunday roasts
I dreamt no champagne wedding toasts . . . !
They're coming round for tea . . tonight ?. . .
This ***** no longer feeling right . . !
In epic terms this now's a fail . !
I think .  it's time for me to bail !!
Though . . something sparkled in your kiss,
A luscious tingling of lips . .
Add alcoholic lust fuelled hips
Whose groovy moves I know I'd miss . .
So . . . If I meet your mum and dad .
Then that gets me . . another ****?

She finds the poem . . And replies . . .

Dear silly boy .  who left behind
His hopeful sentimental rhyme . . .
Who fancies meeting mum and dad
Just to secure another **** . . .
Well pretty boy  . . KEEP DREAMING ON . . .
Since any chance you had . . has gone,
I found your rhyme upon the floor . .
Now ******* closed . . as is my door
It's such a shame . .  you'll never know
How far down I can really go . .
Nor that my naughty little hand
Is worth your golden wedding band
My poet lad  . . you've well derailed
All future chance  . . of getting nailed