Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Elin Sep 25
What drew you to this job?

Truthfully, survival

I lie and say
I’ve always been passionate about textiles

Like the pretentious clothing this company creates
My answer is carefully tailored to appeal to my market audience

Yesterday I was passionate about data entry
Tomorrow I’ll be passionate about customer retention and management

I’ve learnt to lick the boot that pins me down in place

What does your dream job look like?

I don’t bother telling them that I no longer dream of labour

I recite the appropriate buzzwords
Sense of progression
Work-life balance
Meaningful connections
Bile rises in my throat

What do you hope to achieve in life?

My father wasted away his best years in a job that landed him in hospital
A heart attack and redundancy payout all the thanks he got

All so he could eventually retire and do what he actually loved; woodworking

He’d never been able to make a career of it
He couldn’t find a ‘market’ for it

Maybe it was because he never learnt to market himself, to sell himself

Not in that sense
Instead he sold himself

He sold his body to a timber mill

Maybe he thought it would be temporary
But then he had to give up his woodworking
Because working the wood at the mill left him exhausted

He had to sell his soul for decades until the system finally let him be

I want something different than what the system offers
But there is no alternative to the system

It offers me 50 flavours of consumption
32 different shades of participation
But no option not to consume
Not to participate

I no longer have lofty ideals
When I was young I wanted to be a famous writer
I wanted to travel and see the world

Now I just want to exist

But even my very existence comes at a cost
To merely exist I am still expected to participate
To consume and be consumed
Sell myself to whoever will pay
for what little I have to offer

Thank you for your time
It was disturbing enough
to wake me
in total darkness
And I chose then
in my kind of horror
to go to the bathroom to ***
Shaking my head
Troubled
In the wee hours
Not again
Why does this always happen to me?!
Not only is he a ghost
He’s a very old ghost
So what am I supposed to do with that?

She was dead serious
This voice in my head if you will
Earnest
‘But you don’t understand’ she explains
And I wonder where this is going?
‘He’s in love with you’

Okay?
Now what?

There’s a list somewhere
that I compiled years ago
Of questions that never had the chance
to be posed
Although approved officially by Robert
and perhaps by Bob as well
I was going to revise it
to make them even more
Impressive
Robert said that I was a genius
but to stop showing off
Questions concerning Jack,
Mass media,
The World War
in which they never fought
not for one second.
I think now
that I would like to have added
Something regarding
middle class conventions
and their subsequent
however
reluctant
disappointments
And what it must have been like
to aspire to them
In the 40s
When instead there was
Times Square and The Village
****** and Bop
Errant ****** activities
And the San Remo
Huncke suicided
by misbegotten sidewalks
And hapless blue precincts
waiting

Robert mentioned a brief car ride taken
in some Confederate State
Maybe he was in the backseat
and a joint was passed to him
He
who doesn’t indulge
if you will
Although pulmonary carcinoma
would claim him in no time at all
It was his finest moment
Sandwiched gleeful between these two
Literary
Giants
The radio not working
Now they are all dead
And I would like to think
That they are together again
encased in squeaky automotive  
Upholstery
Somewhere unearthly

Laying in bed
before sleep comes
in the new year
KNX newsradio
read the press release
Issued
It was cancer
It was terminal
There would be nothing further
and I said nothing the following morning
Staring at a wall of books and
climbing along on a rolling wooden step ladder
This isn’t even my department
The people coming through the door
were grim and silent
having bought their plane ticket to NY
To sit by his bedside
While he lay in coma
With Bessie Smith records
play softly nearby
and atmospheric
This was not a time for personal aspirations
Nor nursing the loss of a regretfully
jettisoned exchange
And although I had been warned previously
About a certain someone being
prickly
and possibly ******
and very short-tempered
and I had wondered
heretofore
how it would all go down
On the telephone
The two of us had shared a brief
‘What is he looking at?’ moment
That time here in LA
He staring at me from
a bit of a distance
on the court
And me in my chair with yet another
cigarette,
turning my head around to look behind me
to see again nothing
(God knows how many times)
Until I
An idiot
Realized that it was me that was
The subject of his eye
And I thought again
As I had done in the morning mirror
My god
My hair looks terrible

That list whereever it is
Perhaps in that laptop
That leans against my bedroom wall
Dead
on the floor
over there to my left
The one that I always pass
On my way to the john
The one that I stumble by
in the dark,
THAT list that exists
still
in my brain,
THAT I still tinker with,
THAT list exists
I would like to think
in both;
a list of questions that will always have
no answers.
To Allen
Who loves me.
Ryan May 3
Hello, we've reviewed your application,
we're based just down the road from Nottingham station.

Can you make it in?
We'd love to see you,
follow the signs, and walk straight through.

I filled out the form with help from a friend,
but he didn't get the call,
which I can't comprehend.

So, just me off to see the manager,
wear a shirt, plain white,
and of course a tie but not too tight.

I sit down, we talk, it's going well.
"So, why do you want to work here?"
"Because I'm broke as hell?"
"I mean, I love what you sell."

"Name three of your main strengths"
God, not this,
I always think they're *******.

Three things? So what do they need?
I'm honest, punctual, and work well in a team?

I'm in there for ages.
I thought this would be quick,
I hope I didn't sound too thick.
Maybe my answers did the trick?

I replay it in my head, over and over,
I just don't know how it's going to go.

I'm stressed as I walk back to the bus,
that was a lot of effort for an evening job at Toys R Us.
Beginner who is looking for some opinions and constructive feedback.
Mystic Ink Plus Nov 2018
They asked, “what do you do?”
[I replied, mostly I stay silent.]

Why?
[Most ears are not trained to listen.]
[And I don't trade the time]
Genre: Experiment
Theme: Silent in being
Lyn-Purcell Sep 2018


As I drown in the nausea of my fears,
flame wraps its tendrils around my bones
It burns so deep.
My mind twirls to the melody of emotions as my stomach turns.

Excitement jumps
Anxiety screams
Confidence goes in and out of hiding
Laughter wants cry
Tears wish to laugh
Doubt runs rampant

It reminds me of my university days,
a world long lost by blown wind and time as I make my way.
But I remember the flower that was given, and the luck and hope it brings.
And my sea of nerves becomes a tranquil lake.

My heart has an itch
My stomach is in knots
But I have to do this and overcome
my fears.
From the bottom of my heart,
I pray that it goes well

God, give me strength...


Currently on the train heading yo my interview.
How I want to just go home...
I'm feeling so squeamish right now...
Keep me strong, guys!
Lyn x
Shofi Ahmed Aug 2017
He looks like the moon from the sky,
His radiant eyes would steal the sunrise,
His shoulder stood high,
Heartbeats as if he smells his likely world
on his arm, there is everything but a tie!
He just doesn't have a job, been interviewed,
He expressed his qualities, many quantities,
but lost, walked out without a offer!

His sunny face was still shimmering.
The successful one, murmured 'my friend
you wasn't smart enough selling yourself!'
I don't think I wanted to do that, he replied:

Am is willing to serve to earn the means
to be served, don't mean to sale and buy.
If ethic has no value maybe then
a job is nothing but 'sale and buy'!
forestfaith Jul 2018
You don't even ask questions, you stuff answers into my mouth.
You don't give evidence and I believe in your lies.
You pull me down into a slur of words, drowning me into a conversation that never seem to end but starts worlds.
You Pierce me with a knife.
You cut me up into stitched pieces.
help me, and you say "no one cares."
You threw me out.
You kick me out of my own mind.
You close the door.
You keep me out.
You stone me with fire and ice.
You let me keep the burden all to my own.
i can't keep up.
i am broken apart.
just please, give me a moment, and then we talk?
A Simillacrum Jul 2018
Tonight I watched young Kirsten Dunst get her baby neck ****** by two fully grown men on camera and it was done in the name of art. And if not art, money. And if not money, control. The painter and the profiteer want the same thing. So go Hollywood consume youth to produce martyr material madonna / ***** **** clones. So go cutting edge auteur headfirst for prestige with beans in full exposure as you ****-stuff and engorge those ***** throats with your muscular masculine meat sword. Tonight I watched Corey Feldman become the thing that men made and felt the shudder as he realized it's been over, baby.
It's been over, baby.
Aa Harvey Jun 2018
We need to talk


I’ve got a bruise in the shape of Tom Cruise;
It’s on my back next to the Charlie Sheen tattoo.
It’s time I stopped picturing all these actors,
But still I see Bruce Willis’ face on all the posters.


Cameron Diaz is listening to jazz
And I’ll thank her please if she will give me a lap dance.
I drop my pants looking for some kind of romance,
But all I find is someone playing Una Mas.


I wouldn’t normally mind,
But they are playing way out of key
And woe is me if I can’t get what I need to make me happy;
I need to watch Mr. Bean.


Watching Van Damme for five whole seconds;
That’s enough of that, I surely do reckon.
You can’t sell me anything in your television adverts.
If I need something I will buy it;
To your lies I will not listen.


Movie stars and five star ratings.
Who do I complain to about talk show hosts,
Who act like they are dating,
The person they interview?
Get to the real questions;
We have had enough of you
And your luvvie ways,
Telling them they are great.


Why not ask them about their drugs habits?
Their exes, their fights and headline stories?
You smile, you fake, you are in love; you idiot.
An actor is just a man or a woman,
An interviewer is just a puppet.


(C)2016 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Next page