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Zywa Sep 2023
Never a meeting,

we just discuss everything --


while we are at it.
"Het tankstation op de route" - 2 ("The filling station on the route" - 2, 2013, Jan Baeke)

Collection "Stall"
Anais Vionet Nov 2022
Leeza (the 13 year old sister of my roommate Lisa) and I are in the building 220 lobby, heads-down on our phones, waiting for Lisa and Peter (my BF). The lobby is huge and deserted except for a lady concierge at the front desk, a security guard and the doorman - all far away from us. This is by way of explaining that our masks are off - mine hanging, useless, on my left ear.

When this unmasked guy, I was grazingly introduced to at last year’s 220-building Christmas party walks up to us and says, “Anais, Hi. You’re back!”

I flinched. I know a lot of people are over the whole mask thing and the covid thing - and have the temerity to risk it all, but I don’t - did I mention flu season or covid variations? Someone unmasked getting unexpectedly up in my personal space is jarring, rude, and on several levels dangerous and scary.

“Oh, hi,” I said. I vaguely recognized him, but I couldn’t remember his name. He’s one of those guys who’s cutely strange looking. He’s short (5’4”) (nothing wrong with that, short kings, you’re valid), his hair’s dark at the roots but blonde tipped (beach-hair?) and when he smiles, and he smiles a lot, his smile looks too big for his face. I remember he’d seemed socially awkward when we met, and Lisa had said his father is someone important.

“Yeah,” I said, with a shrug, “Holidays again.” I briefly bob up on my toes, to glance over Leeza’s head and to my relief, I see Lisa and Peter coming out of the elevator. I decide to mask up and seeing me do it, Leeza does as well.

“I’m sorry,” I said apologetically, “I remember you, but I can’t remember your NAME. I’m an idiot.” I give him my best, ditzy shrug.

He reintroduced himself, “Merritt,” he said, offering his hand and smiling again, still unmasked. As I shook his hand he twisted in Leeza’s direction and said, “Hi Leeza!” She gave him the smallest possible 13-year-old’s courtesy nod.

Peter and Lisa arrived, having masked up. “Merritt, hey!” Lisa said, greeting him warmly. “Have you got senioritis yet?” she asked, cheerfully. “Merritt’s graduating from Brown this year,” she announced, turning to include us all in the good news. “Public policy, ya?” She followed up.
“That’s it,” he confirmed, beaming.
“Congratulations!” I said, nodding.
“Way to go!” Peter added with a “yes” nod.
“Merritt, this is Peter,” Lisa said, taking charge. “He belongs to Anais.” she reported, as they shook hands and exchanged nods. “Merrit,” Lisa said, in a disappointed tone, “I hate to rush off, but we’re in a scramble for a dress fitting,” she lied. Lisa can lie like a politician.

And just like that, in something like 45 seconds she shook-off Merritt - who seems like a very sticky guy indeed - without resorting to mace or anything - Lisa’s got charm.

Thoughts about charm..
My grade, in physics 3 (an A-) was 2-one-hundredths from an A+. I almost certainly (like 85%) could have charmed the professor for that tiny bit. We’ve all seen it done - you put on a self-effacing smile and say, “I’m so close, is there something I can do for extra credit?” But I can’t DO it, physically, I can’t say the words and beg for grades. It’s like I can picture my mom watching me having to beg for something she earned, and I’d be mortified to even try. It’s my small disadvantage, a self-imposed handicap.

Besides, if I did betray my code, there’s the awful chance the professor might say no - and that would **** me.

Lisa, on the other hand, wouldn’t actually have to charm. She’d ask about her grade, periodt. The teacher, seeing there’s something he or she could do for this goddess - would just do it. With no asking involved.

Imagine you’re an airline agent and Beyonce´ stepped up to your station. She has a little problem you could effortlessly fix with a click of your mouse. Would you, do it? Hells-yes you would and before she even asked. “It’s already done,” you’d say - just to have Queen Bey smile at you.

The rest of us have to work at it (sigh) - and take our chances..
BLT Marriam Webster word of the day challenge: Temerity: "a foolhardy contempt for danger”

Slang.
periodt - an absolute period - there’s nothing else.
neth jones Aug 2022
the meeting room inflates       mushroomed by vocal lashing
 nauseous and ugly welling
                      everyone's timely except the crucial host                      
top pockets and pens
                                                 stuffing of warmth
crucible of body gases and personal perfumes
no windows   /   low ceiling
               the vents clogged with dust and barnacles
one stifling roost

over the new mode room      a dominant black screen is vigilant
clocking the details    
scrapbooking the gloom
         (each rebel breath of mine   rivals the last)

there's an odd gap in the chitter-natter
dumbed silent punction to the point of audible body function
everybody is knocked from their element
plead broken this nervous moment...
..and someone does
            patricia hats a laugh
                                 and the flow re-bleats its motor    revived  
  

mike from c8 south
                                                   whinnies in my face
breath bad and bad coffee
he gaffles my energy
                            head bloods flood
and i can't hack it
                      this is where i get off        
                                  the worldly stutters me off the page
hot signal habits bunch
i am dudded

my distant avatar takes over                                             
              c­an it handle an idea of what i ought present ?
i am a kite operating the grounded pilot
i see him beam and nod dummy to conversation
representing ; i'll endure with this method         
i am only a member here              
    no sass of authority
my expected contribution need only be trivial

but then                                                             ­   
distant others look darkly through my reservoir
the gig is up     they know somethings contorted
i am drawing attention
what did my puppet say on my behalf ?
am i crooked and pale and wincing ?
am i laying out insult ?
these could be things
they concentrate through distorted waters
start chopping gestures
it is not liked and my auto options have failed
why can't we wash over this whole thing ?
we are dressed so nicely and it is only work
and breath and beating words
to replace peckerpits in the system
t h a t   i s    i t  !
the body crumples and exhibits
i whelm over it all
taking off as an apparition
moting higher still above the scene
i raise the ceiling some
but   represented   i lie on the floor
a rat ring of colleagues forms about me
some with baldness showing              
some dyed colours
one wears a fedora indoors
hunching over my mass
rodent strife
Silver Hawk May 2022
Just to add to what John said
with regards to the points
raised by Emily when she echoed
the arguments presented earlier
by Kevin

Without overlooking
the guidance that was reiterated
by the Deputy Director
about the need
for swift action from us

I propose we form a committee
composed of people in this meeting
who will meet later
to put the issue on the table

cut it open with a scalpel
expose the underlying problems
analyze and put it back with nine stitches
then we can report
that the first draft
is ready
Remembering how it went with some meetings I've been in
Dave Robertson Mar 2022
Bookends with fatty livers and bad backs
squinting at instructions
for another **** fool distraction
and the laughing, thankfully

On the walk, bees, butterflies,
catkin reminders of time and loops
and irregular pooping
as constants

Thankfully, laughing
requires just enough muscles
from those that still work,
but I’ll feel it tomorrow
Heavy Hearted Apr 2021
a small group of individuals
bound by the intersectionality
of their detriments
meet;

and although alone we stand
in head and heart and hand
together the mind and the heart gave birth
to something each of us forgot were worth:

when we are together, a real person is born
not through the perceptivity of gore and of ****-
but of virtue and strength being visible not
to anyone other than us 3 who forgot.
for Irving and Morgan
MK Garne Nov 2020
Light shines off the lines of old paint brush strokes on smudged oil paint,
Vintage bubbles, worn from countless fingers, notebooks, pencils,
the accruements of learning, teaching, and thinking.
I can imagine the hands that painted these surfaces,
These old desks, missing drawers, staggered six feet from each other,
Social distanced under the gaze of outdated television screens,
Confined within these walls, peeling paint, under stained ceiling tiles.
Those hands were tired, they held the brush with a practiced hand that wasn't dried out from hand sanitizer,
They spilt paint on the floor, left stains, let paint run down the sides of the desks -
Those trails still stay in certain light, they gleam from the shadows,
Not visible to the Zoom attendants.
I met a girl once,
With eyes like pools of light,
And as I fell right into them,
Swallowed by the whites,
I saw the reflection
Of the world and sky,
Fragments of beauty,
That shimmered with life,
And when her tears fell,
They sparkled and curled
Etching on her face,
The story of the world,
Speaking softly of all
The places she’d been,
Painting with wonder
The things she’d seen,
She tracked the earth’s trails
And sailed its seven seas,
Swaying from place to place,
Like leaves in the breeze,
And though her feet were sore,
Her footsteps never failed,
Creasing in the earth,
A path that never paled,
And everywhere she went,
She left a piece behind,
Watering the landscape,
With the rain she had inside,
But all she gave,
Nature repaid fast ,
Inking on her body,
A story that would last,
And though she was alone,
Had no place to call her own,
She knew the world around her
well enough to call it home.
Bish Sinha Jul 2020
I am not an angry woman
Though you try to make me so
I’m scrupulous. And sentient
And more than you’ll ever know.

I realise now, I don’t know you either
Not your song, only what you show
I don’t know your passions or your vices
Or what thoughts, through you, flow.

Thus, in that living equinox,
On that line in the sand,
Between all of me and all of you
We make our momentary stand.
You can have me as I choose
I won’t be carved by your hand.

So, look not, oh stranger, for my rage
For such a thing is but infernal
Instead, find in me an endless love
For I am Olga and I am, Eternal.
I wrote this for a friend. :)
Sharon Talbot Jul 2020
Imagine the bombed-out fields of Japan,
Wandering families with no food.
A little girl soothes her brother,
Who is so hungry, he must cry.
“Let’s imagine a menu,” she tells him
And the tears stop for a while.
Many years later, her son will say,
Of a balloon without a skin,
“There’s no point if you don’t imagine it.”
Imagine Britain after the Blitz,
Young man roaming the streets
Mind craving, surviving on 45 records
From the USA. How could he help
But become an artist and rebel?
Picture the canyons of New York City,
Where galleries peek like jewels in the dust.
The girl from Japan and the British boy,
Both imagining something more.
She sets up a ladder to the sky,
He wanders in and climbs it
And to all his questions, especially “Why?”
She has imagined a small and simple “Yes.”
You can probably guess which girl and boy this is about...
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