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Northern Poet Feb 14
Up north there's this thing called queuing
Down south it looks more like ******* looting
I can see the trouble brewing
Squeezing on the tube – can't even get my ******* shoe in
Some of these miserable ******* look like they need shooting
Stuck on the northern line back to Tooting
Juhlhaus Jan 23
A sidewalk canvas
Half done slush
An oil slick
Twice frozen ice
And boots that slip
A train just missed
The red eyes glare
Rain that floats
In sour air
Brutalized concrete
Bleeding rust
Filthy floors
And alley walls
Spent cigarettes
In every nook
Steel that shrieks
In cold protest
Blue lights
And a defiant poet
On every corner
An inventory of materials.
OpenWorldView Jun 2018
Wake
  Wash
    Eat
      Commute
        Work
          Eat
    ­    Work
      Commute
    Eat
  Wash
Sleep
Invocation Nov 2018
Little girl peeling in Orange in traffic
with your favorite fingernail
I love to watch you attack
tear off the skin chunks and save them in a jar in your car because the smell makes you feel so far away
it's very clean-smelling
This cold little orange
it's a dragon ball in dragon hands
My sore throat needs this
Sindi Kay Oct 2018
***** subway floors
Good commutes

Suicide
Up these Gotham city walls

Water dripping down a ***** stall

Cold winter cough you can hear
Homeless mans stare
on your case
Guilt and relief mold your face
Steve Page Oct 2018
The riled route master and the hacked off hackney carriage weren't bothered by the boris bike, they simply barreled along the bus lane oblivious to the wobble, blind to the blindsided and bent on beating the amber to red, til they were halted by the growth factor of a chelsea tractor straddling lanes and field testing the choice of right or left and failing the screen test set by the sat nav, thereby giving opportunity to the swarm of office staffers snatching their chance and chancing their luck, dancing past with their fat chance of swiping in before nine and avoiding the chagrin of the boss who's been the bane of their short sojourn through the city of lost dreams, chance encounters, thin fortune and rushed hours. This is London.
Route Master = a London bus
Hackney Carriage = a black cab
Boris Bike = rentabike
Chelsea tractor = an oversized suv preferred by families who can afford Kensington & Chelsea
WA West Oct 2018
Of all known tyrannies,
This is the most airy,
Each word from this day forward,
Will be silk coated
More carefully chosen
Whispered from a kingdom up high,
There are many feelings weaker than,
My hand upon yours,
Our eyes meeting,
I cannot wait to hear your heart's music,
And for it to be recognised for what it is,
Your steps will be the music that gives me strength,
With you,
The world has less sharp edges
harsh looks,
"The daily grind is so hard"
He whined
"Work and raising kids isn’t easy"
She opined
"Deirdre got your promotion"
He snitched
"I heard Dave got yours?"
She *******
"I hate this **** job"
He sighed
"So look for another"
She cried
"Maybe tomorrow"
He lied
"You'll do it one day"
She lied
“Stop tapping your foot”
He snapped
“Stop looking at her”
She flapped
"What's for tea?"
He assumed
"Why ask me?"
She fumed
"Can't believe it's only Monday"
He moaned
"If I hear that again..."
She intoned
"Shall we get a takeaway?"
He enlightened
"Oh, I love you"
She brightened
“Love you too”
He cooed
“Kisses to you”
She blew
"See you tonight, love"
He winked
"You will, my lover"
She pinked

Midday watercooler meeting
Frosty silence skin broken
Domestic warfare so fleeting
Morning car row forgotten
Like work-a-day sheep
At end of day meet, then
Takeaway, home, sleep
Up tomorrow, do it again

The couple who work, rest and play together...

©pofacedpoetry (2018) Billy Reynard-Bowness - All rights reserved
Office politics....with a twist!
Steve Page Mar 2018
The exchange of smiles
The greeting nodded
We return to our papers
No words needed
Fellow travellers with no need for conversation
L S O Jan 2018
Hindi na umulan ngayong gabi, pero
basa pa ang kalsada.
Sa loob ng bus na sinasakyan,
tuyo ang aking puso
at umuulan ng luha.

//

It no longer rained tonight, but
the road is still wet.
Inside the bus I'm on,
my heart is dry
and it is raining tears.
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