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It's really humiliating
To be shaking a cup
24 hours a day
And people just look
At you like you're
Some sort of ***

I go to fill out applications
They look at me and
I'm not looking presentable
And then they
"Well, we'll call you
Leave a number"
But how can I leave a number
When I don't have a phone

It's just a struggle

I've had people
walk past me and
Say "get a job you ***"
And I said "wait a minute"
"I'm not a ***,
I'm a human"

And, it's hard

After the end of the day
When people go home
I just feel so bad
That I can't be
Going home too
live hard,
care free on
the open lanes
just to get a
break
from it all.

besides,
how am i supposed to
have any fun
cooped up
like a house cat?

this place is different,
just enough light and
not too sticky but
the hops taste like
stale lollipops.

"call for a good time"
thanks, way ahead of ya.
two-dollar condoms?
what a way to make
an extra buck.

i'm back, sorry
wasn't expecting
to stay so long.
i'm parked out front,
what's your favorite
breakfast food?

Mom warned me not to
trust these dogs,
should've used
my last eight quarters.
--
the ones that teach you,
who lift you up over
their heads
in good faith,
these are their stories.
Am I selling my soul to the corporate world
in a vain pursuit of future financial stability?
Should I have bought my future with what little I had
and spent it growing my skills in music and writing
so that I could know they were not wasted?
Should I give up on this new work-from-home desk job
where I'm paid commission and weekly bonuses
and won't see the residual income from renewals for thirteen months?
Can't I have something stable that doesn't bore me to death,
and something exciting that doesn't turn my anxiety to an 11?
I've never had a balance--every job has been one or the other.
And yet, as I yearn for a career in music, I recall my past
where I majored in songwriting and couldn't handle college
and I sigh and realize that jumping to a music job wouldn't "fix" me.
No matter what I'm doing, I will need to have perseverance,
and patience, yes, but also motivation and drive to improve myself.
These struggles that I face now at this job are the same ones
that I've always struggled with--they're part of me still.
And I've always blamed the job for not being a good fit--
and some of them weren't, true--but that wasn't the root of it.

A job that is worth doing
will take effort and drive
and no worthy income
comes by barely getting by
and doing the bare minimum
in order to escape a scolding.
I need to change my mindset
in order to grow above this--
this swamp of complacency,
this mire of despondent weakness,
this misty swath of ambiguous feelings
that have dictated my actions
for far too long. No.
I'll sit and get to work
knowing that I am securing a future
for myself, my husband, and family
and that one day, I will have time
to create art in any way I want
but right now, I have a lesson to learn
about working hard
and rising to the challenge.
Don't let me forget.
I can't look back now.
Up I go, to new heights
where the fearful me
thought the risks were too great.
Up I go, to climb my mountain
and win this battle, and the next,
until I'm out of the doldrums
and onto the path that advances before me.

Here goes.
xavier thomas May 13
don't let them just interview you
you interview them to

Put your life in a position
As a status that’s beneficial
Otherwise you’ll be another statistic in the system
Wasting God talent in a matter for -ish & giggles
Victoria May 13
I've been training so hard
to walk in these shoes
They look good
They look nice
But they got no clue
That they are a little too big
a little too wide
I can walk in them
But the shoes aren't right

But as long as I can walk
I must go on
How many people have shoes to choose from?

I must not complain the tiniest bit
about wearing shoes that doesn't fit
I'm just scared rightf I'm ready to grow up and its scary but I have to.
I paint these walls
in shades of grey
The color gives life
to such walls
I thought I'd try
to go bold
but the walls
had best to be
in shades of grey
Now my job is done
The paint is dry
the cupboards look
so good against the walls
The owner is happy
and pays me well
Job well done
© Jennifer L DeLong 🦏
4/2021
Maria Etre Apr 5
To the (ad)ventures
about to happen
I can't wait to
skip you
to the
best
------------
5
4
3
2
1
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Carrying a sleeping baby.
Cleaning after a successful party.

Camping beyond mountains more mountains.
Playing trumpet on the streets of New York City.

Eating although the food supply is deeply compromised.
Flying with Democrats and Republicans, evangelicals and atheists.

Flying like a fruit fly that won’t quit mating.
Cool as a hummingbird in the stream’s wet spray.

Abstaining wholly, absent from worldly life.
Two dogs fighting but not biting hard.

Chanting as if the planet were mending.
Gourmet dining, devout prayer, loving Mary.

Evenings watching tv. Scotch and Star Trek.
Taking off Emily Dickinson’s clothes.

Meeting in the meeting house, arguing and praying.
Planning a legacy as if you knew enough to control events.

Pursuing happiness as a naturalist or humanist.
Spinning with the planet, performing the history that surrounds us.

Killing many Germans, saving many Jews.
Doing less until one thing’s done well.

Fainting from staring at candles through stained glass windows.
Morning, a billion trillion nuclear detonations per second warming your
        bones.

Manipulating symbols, solving equations.
Disregarding tweets and facebook persuasions.

Sitting with a tiny Buddha near a rushing stream cutting a gorge.
Running, disciplining myself, making myself healthy.

Ingesting drugs, throwing die, drinking sludge.
Growing varicolored corn.

Participating in the cause because it’s impossible not to participate in
      the effect.
Running over a chipmunk, groundhog or a skunk.

Lying face down in the emergency room facing doom.
Waking up Monday thinking Sweet Saturday! but soon remembering my
      trick knee.

Turning the towering young thunder of my anger against my sons.
Regretting the callow dispassion with which I met my parents’ quietus.

Lawn mowing, leaf blowing, yapping dogs, napping old people.
No jets but a rooster mornings, cows and goats.

Al is painting an apartment. Sirma is cleaning the floors. Felix is taking
      out the garbage.
Deciding tentatively I slightly prefer Heifetz’ to Oistrakh’s Sibelius.

No cedar waxwings, no chickadees, but beautiful moon!
If you’re alone as you get, why are you crying?
—Collins, Billy, “Taking Off Emily Dickinson’s Clothes”, Sailing Alone Around the Room: New and Selected Poems, Random House, 2002.
Michael Ryan Feb 21
New Job.
New Drive.
New Interest.

It's all so new,
yet so-so familiar.

All there is, the heat -
encased in a fireplace
or a furnace.

Smoldering,
the ashes
never filter through
these windless lungs,
instead of oxygen
the flame kindles
on anxiety.

Life is going splendidly - no hiccups -
Breathing is easy
but all that rushes in
is the flagrant blossom
of ragged thoughts,
all the possibilities
for how helpless
the wind is
when it's always being
knocked out.
I started a new job, I started driving, and there's a girl of course that I like too much.  There wouldn't be much of a story if there wasn't the drama of a boy likes girl, right?   Everything can and is going smoothly, but when I am home I feel like it's all falling apart.
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