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shiny ‘vette
velvet walls
noontime cabaret

passing by, bye

cigarette
cell phone calls
boot mark to the face

push and pull
take the cake
climb to the top!

rise at the top!

wallet’s fat
bank account swells
now some time to wait

nice and full
got it made
winding the clock!

(winding the clock!)

scratching backs
fingernails smell
now i'm turning grey

take my dime,
not my time

what was that?
slot machine bells
not for me today

or any day

one more sip
of lemonade
when will it stop?

when will it stop?
when will it stop?
when will it stop?

when will it?
Lyrics for small jazz ensemble & voice.
Max Neumann Nov 2020
Me, me, me: I'm just up for dem purple notez like dat purple cow from dat commercial: a Milka spot, no tiramisu, me i got a really black leather jacket, originally stolen by my brate in da name of da hood: we robbed a rich family in my city 

dem apartment was closed, but my brate kicked dat door in wit his bosnian feet; 79 inches, balkan handz, workin wit a digga he be carryin dem lockerz; me tellin my brate: we got all dat yayo, so just do it

and now we be eatin cevape and börek, while dem cops are lookin for two of these yugo-haircutz; bluelightz all over da place, sirenz and carz, me carryin da bag no ****** around wit home depot

dear god, just help me dat time: i need me a benz wit dem mega-rimz
now come on and see it, and take it like quick: da yugo-cheater, i'll be rippin off dat cash
ORIGINAL VERSION BY MY BRATE, TONI DER ASSI:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UqEyy8sd5pY
Dante Rocío Oct 2020
The inclination
Towards domestic superiority
Does not refund
Ideals lost at discarded gambles.
Stygian kin browser,
Rest abode,
No lark made your path.
Leave the tie bloodshed
At the desk (once)
Home torn
A short cordial yet coolish prompt on a business noir photo as white collars break and have no foundance anymore inside the sight
Bullet Sep 2020
I’ve been smoking a lot more
I’ve been drinking a lot less
Which is better or worse
******* how about you mind your own business
Staring at the long road ahead
Uncertain of where it will lead
During this time of pandemic
To stay at home is my gimmick.

Something’s whispering in my mind
It says, “Let’s go out and unwind.”
Hey! Businesses are still closed
Waiting to serve their purpose.

But then, my hearts’ sole desire
Keeps blazing like a campfire.
It says, “Let’s do something
Or else, we’ll get nothing.”

Just don’t mind about the profit
As long as you’re happy with it
Now, I’ve decided to propose
To serve others is my purpose.
I wrote this poem for people who love to serve other people in whatever way they can.  This is my way of expressing my gratitude to all the front liners and volunteers during this time of the COVID-19 pandemic.  Thanks for reading and visiting my page. :-)
Aleksey Jul 2020
You wake up early
Barely getting enough sleep
You're a businessman down to the core
You think earning money is your fate
Value yourself more
Before it's too late
Think of your family
Work is all they get to see
When was the last time that you saw them smile
I got you thinking, so it's been a while
Money's in today and out the next
Nothing but struggle and no rest
You realized only when you got old
You traded with things you couldn't afford
What did all that money get?
You sold your soul and bought regret.
Robert Ronnow Jul 2020
The Stop & Shop strike v. Game of Thrones.
In Game what’s not made plain
is the condition of the people
compared with warriors and queens.
There’s no mention of land-clearance, tree-felling,
pruning, chopping, digging, hoeing,
weeding, branding, gelding, slaughtering,
salting, tanning, brewing, boiling,
smelting, forging, milling, thatching,
fencing and hurdle-making, hedging, road-mending and haulage.

As for the strike, most of us
supported the cashiers and clerks—
cutting benefits and pensions
when CEOs make millions.
A few pennies more
for ice cream and tofu
a leg up for our neighbors
and comrades in labor.
But don’t get greedy, power-hungry—
we don’t want the supermarket to go out of business
or the Army of the Dead to extinguish us.

A red-tailed hawk observes what small mammals, birds are in the
     clearcut,
awaits the moment to strike.
Three *****, two strikes, full count. Aaron pitched carefully, slow
     strikes and the opposing team scored.
Transit strike. Part-time tutor,
food deliverer, illegal immigrant,
school bus driver, supermarket bagger.
Let labor flow like capital! Full tank of gas!
In your dreams, you kick ***.
In your daydream, you’re breaking bones, killing mean dogs with bare
     hands .
In my childhood dreams, I fought side by side with my best buddies
against the Army of the Dead.
I wake up to a lightning strike and my dream incinerates.

The strike is over, like a thunderstorm.
Still a half dozen or so episodes of Thrones
before it sinks into the past.
Will women save the world?
Anything’s possible.
Nothing changes in Williamstown, Willie, except the seasons.
The wee hours, the bored minutes, the second guesses,
the town sewer department, the collector of taxes.
Pitcher’s elbow, runner’s knee, reader’s eye,
you live until you die.
That’s no answer.
Without the Mexican and Canadian borders
the White Walkers would dissolve like an aspirin in seltzer water.

The sun is up, the strike is over
next episode of Game is Sunday
the White Walkers attack
some of our favorite characters croak
but humanity survives
though the weather is ominous.
The habitable zone around the sun
is moving outward as the orb expands
getting hotter as it grows older.
Earth a billion years ago
was smack in the middle of the turf
but we’re now half-in, half-out
exposed to the sun’s ardor, agony.
The sun a dragon eating its babies, torching cities
we’re gonna hafta outsmart it
hold Labor Day barbecues on Mars.
Turner, James, The Politics of Landscape: Rural Scenery and Society in English Poetry, 1630-1660, Harvard University Press, 1979.
Abdallah Osman Jun 2020
I need you like the hour needs the minute hand.

You and I against the world is how I feel, like when we got the fabrics scanned.

I need you like a molecule needs the remaining of its DNA strand.

You and I know todays have been tough, starting up a hustle knowing your pieces are in demand.

I need you to believe you are writing a story, which you'll live to tell firsthand.

You and I are not perfect, and all I hope is we fill in the blanks.
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