Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
After taking a phone call,
My nosy ears overheard
An incident involving a
Female coworker flirting
With a male coworker.
Rather, she was joking
Around with him
Out of boredom.

He said he had a wife,
And she asked if he would
Allow her to be his mistress.
The man made a complaint
To a supervisor, and she
Was moderately reprimanded.

The one accused did not
Think he would take
It so seriously.


I cannot help but think
He would not have felt
Offended if he found her
Attractive, no matter how
Supposedly devout he is to his wife.
If anything it would have
Flattered his ego,

And if it was vice versa
I believe the same
Principle would apply.
The paradoxical predictability
Of Human subjectivity.


(c) 2015 Brandon Antonio Smith
The cumulonimbus clouds swim through the frontier of azure skies like a school of fish.
If I were an acid woman, this would be an ideal time & place.
Who needs drugs?
When the Sun itself is such.
Its rays beam upon me.
Instantly, I am elated and feel as though I could be a synchronized swimmer
amongst the elegant bodies of white.
Why have other devices for instant gratification?
We have the Sun.
renzie b Oct 2015
The sun was beginning to set painting the sky with the colors of faint orange and pink.
The tall street lamps together with the passing cars’ headlights lit up the road.
The trees were swaying, as the calm rush of wind passes through while the road became less busy as the night settles deeper.
The sky was partially filled with clouds yet the moon was still able to show its face.
The night was calm and quiet.
The silence covered the road as if it was abandoned.
Not a single soul can be seen or heard.  
Nevertheless, the surrounding did not look frightening.
No, it was rather peaceful than menacing.
The night found serenity as the people succumb to their sweet slumber. For hours, the street remained still with only the sound of the wind rushing through the trees playing in the background.
Jose Gonzalez Aug 2015
I stand in a Gallery of Beauty, different workings of art.
Each of their own story, varied of mediums.

Stunning sculptures, wonderful and painted canvases, soul stirring spoken word,
classic and modern forms, all thought provoking.

In this gallery are Masterful Creations in which to admire, to stand in awe,
and appreciate the Inner and outer workings that make them Beautiful indeed.

Copyright ©  2015
Gavin Betty Aug 2015
Strong and beautiful widow,
I see your daily struggle.
I love you and owe you my life...

You wingless angel,
You deserve your halo.
I'm sorry for my many a strife.

Strong and beautiful Widow,
Continue your struggle,
I will make things right.

Just stay with me mother,
Our lives left asunder,
We will pick up the pieces and fight.

I love you.
This is a close up observation of someone I know and love very much; and her struggle with daily life raising two kids.
Gavin Betty Aug 2015
Why do I need a foot long sub,
And a "giganto gulp" from 7/11?
Why am I taught to consume so well,
But not taught to balance my credit?
I'm getting full....
Full of  debt full of something.
Call it regret?
I didn't mean to notice it,
I'll continue being mislead.
Thinking about doing a Bigger Picture Observation series, not sure yet, if enough people enjoy it I will
Richard Joerger Aug 2015
Sitting in a row I see the white,
But behind them I see their shadow monsters.
Each monster is different,
Some from abuse,
Some genetic.

Their shadows manifest in different shapes.

I see yours sitting behind you,
Its a child cowering in a corner,
A child who feels alone.
But rather than addressing your feelings
With sharpened steel you snap-
A rubber band instead.
Leaving bumps instead of bloodied hands and scars.

I see yours sitting behind you.
A man breathing flames from his eyes,
Fire burning his chest.
You've come to terms, you know how to silence the fire.
You can put the flames out and away.
It hurts me to see them.

I see yours standing behind and over you,
A barely clothed child crying
Pure sadness.
The monster had his grips, his jaws, sunk into you.
But no more.
I cannot fathom the pain. I cannot emphasize with you.
I've never had to think about that pain.
Its not fair.

But here we sit, a room of broken people,
Yet no one knows.
No one shares it because its my problem.
My life. My choice.
It just hurts to know we're one in a room of broken.
I am currently attending a summer program for minority students. I noticed a recurring theme.
Anig Muh Jul 2015
Nobody looks each other in the eye;
Poverty thrives so the courts don't run dry.

I see an old man with his walker in the rain alone,
can't find a ride with his ****** trac phone.

Everyone's too 'cautious' to give help or receive it honey,
but there's no limit when you have a lot of money.

America.

I see a couple cry in the rain before they're torn apart,
I guess nobody told them a dollar has no brain or heart.

Arrogance tried to **** kindness, but it's not dead only dormant.
Only because those who lack it make others their doormat.

Media.

Bleak concrete.
I stand filled with numb emotion as I see legged fish, swarming a landmade ocean.
Drown, Drown, no one will hear a sound.

So smoke your cancer and eat your heart attacks,
and don't forget to tip and pay your tax.
Deep in the gut cemetery of weeps and wallows;

Do you think the whale counts every small fish as he swallows?
Perhaps not, but I like to believe he does.
Micah Jun 2015
Observing you
Animated, you speak in increasing overtones, filtering even traces of any creeping monotones.
With a passion that boils like lava in volcanic fissures, you express your convictions in strong hand gestures.
I see in you a certain glow, within which your inner strength shows.
I know now that you're one to stand up and not leave.
I see in you, a solid belief.

Your head whips back, as growing laughter wracks you in vibrations sharp, every little motion originating from your hearts little shards.
I see in you, something I don't see in me, a bravery to bear the brunt of a dishonest society.
No need have you, to repress or regress every feeling or thought, so subconsciously you confess. You detest going through the motions, but know enough to be true to your emotions.
I see in you something for me, honesty.

As you speak of the people you lost and the people you just had to let go of, an incomplete smile and lying eyes tell the story that your lips just cannot. Smothered by the memories, your smile waits for the tension to release.
It twitches and ceases, seemingly against its own wishes.
I see a broken world in your eyes, but also a flame that never dies.
I see in you a veteran of storms, a resounding bell that never stops.

A temper you hold, that often flares in your eyebrows.
I steal a glimpse, even when you won't let it show. But you hold your beast down, and a more permanent smile replaces that momentary frown, as you reject the things that make you drown.
I see in you kindness and resilience.
I see in you, empathy and forbearance.

You speak of a thousand places and times and a oceanful of faces.
You speak of the worlds that you are a part of, the experiences that you're at the heart of.
Your eyes tell is wonders that are and have been. Even your songs bear the mark of the celestial, a beauty that stands on a pedestal.
I see in you, the work of God and now to the effect I see how you really are, imperfectly perfect.
This is the first spoken word-ish project I have taken on. Please critique
He wore a wife beater.
Which hung on him more like a to do list-
Than his clothing choice for the day.
His choice of beverage of the night was Coors Light.
Twenty four of them.
Although it would be hard to argue that something else would have been in his hand
Had it too been on sale at 2 for $20.
His math skills were heightened on Fridays.
On the weekend he was somewhat of a savant.
Dividing dollars by can volume to determine.
His most frugal choice.
As he moseyed to his car,
Hips struggling to hold his
Tattered sweatpants,
One wondered whether it too ran on alcohol.
Next page