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Brian Turner Aug 2020
I'm not like you
I'm different
Your assumption that I share the same
Is not for you to ascertain

A different island I have come
Different father, different son
Different accent, different view
Different food, different cue

Don't assume I'll take to you
Please don't see this as something blue
You just need to know there is something true
I'm not the same, I'm not like you
Coming from Northern Ireland I'm culturally different from England.
Brian Turner Aug 2020
Anticipation keeps pulsing at me
When I want something to be
The surge of excitement is like a drug
I keep wanting it, like a mug

The next job or party event
The next high or personal descent
The next meeting or social entity
The next considered expected positivity

The event goes by
It really did fly
Anticipation fades
The outcome rarely makes the grade
Of all the emotions 'anticipation' is my favourite. Think about it if we didn't have anticipation what a poor world we would be in? "rarely makes the grade" refers to the outcome of an event never living up to the hype of the anticipation.
Brian Turner Aug 2020
I want a cardboard world
Where desks sag and break in the rain
And people look at me in disdain

All the temporary creations I see
I didn't build for you, I built for me

Cardboard seats and cars
Cardboard hotels and bars
Cardboard rockets for Mars

All temporary cardboard builds to try
All cardboard inners to fry

There's nothing quite as temporary
As a new age cardboard century
I dream of making cardboard furniture and then letting it droop and sag in the rain with people looking at me in disdain
Brian Turner Aug 2020
I am me
I never was your employee

Never was a soccer ball to punch
Never was a joke to make over lunch

The customer is always right
I disagreed with that and never put up a fight

Your wrath was short and sweet
My tenancy left with days to beat

Now I am back to me
I never was your employee
Experience of being made redundant this year
Brian Turner Aug 2020
We approach the pub from the harbour storm
We gather there in lose form
A time to switch off from the norm

Status is left at the door veneer
No room for that here
It's simply time for beer

At the coal fire strangers mix
Do you know so and so?
Ah yes of course
He used to be a hallion didn't he?
Time for our fix

He died
She died
It died

She used to do that
No way?
Why can't she see sense?

Did you hear that he is leaving now?
We never knew
He'll never come back

Smile and laughter reign
Black stuff is ordered, refusal is feigned
More words are exchanged for the craic
A time of friendship
We'll always come back
Some memories of gathering at the harbour bar in Portrush Northern Ireland. Status is left at the door.
Brian Turner Aug 2020
The dry day came
The baler the same
Walking behind they magically pop out
We march to the call and gurn to the shout

The lift is swift
And the landing is firm
On the steel trailer bed
Nothing more to be said

Off to the yard
To the pile at the top
We hide our protest
Man, this is hot

I can't see for the dust
The smell of the hay
Makes us lift faster
I'll remember this day

A neat puzzle is made
My energy will fade
Every bale must fit
Every lift, one of grit

The sweat and the heat
This job is not complete
Once more to the field
To gather the yield
Memories of making hay on hot summers day in Northern Ireland in the 1980s.
Brian Turner Aug 2020
I love to stare at rain
From the comfort of the door frame

Am I in or out?
Your rhythm and beat has no doubt

Am I stuck in stasis?
Can I cope with what faces us?

You rumble on
We rumble on
Keep rumbling
Thoughts from staring at rain this morning. For some reason I love to be on the door frame neither inside or outside.
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