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Dave Robertson Jan 2022
Counterpoint:
I love you lot.

You colleagues and loves who despise this
alongside me
so when my foot slips or knee gives
you are at my shoulder, my elbow

with a Kit-Kat or quick jab
about being old and ****
so giggles lift the misery
of ignorant, blind and fruitless bosses

while our loss seems their gain for now
I am bound to remember this refrain:
We’re not gonna take it

So, my brothers and twisted sisters
get those pitchforks ready,
sharpen in the dark,
keep being artisans

for when the time comes,
the spreadsheets won’t even be worth
the cold nothing they’re typed on
but your healing hands will
Dave Robertson Jan 2022
You’ll look close for all its feints,
its lies of needing you
being lost without
while the fingers on your windpipe tighten
and those tears come in place of shouting

loud, steady, drip-drip mention
of blissed futures,
dispatched, ***** pasts,
the present full
of passive aggression
where passivity is too nuanced

you’ll still be there with open arms
and a heart dark with hope,
but that tickle-whisper in your skull
is not just the concussion
not just
Dave Robertson Dec 2021
Having dispatched the sound rabble
with mostly love,
our already flaccid balloon
deflates with a final raspberry

a fitting fanfare to a term
that left its markers marked,

the shared mirth,
across eyes and hearts,
at a **** noise
proving once again:
we are why we’re here
Dave Robertson Sep 2021
For a moment,
a minute maybe,
an hour,
my head went under

it wasn’t thrashing gasps
or clawing to froth the surface,
just a steady,
non-negotiable weight
that spoke to my ankles
of depths

I tried to keep my eyes up
following the lipped bubble trail
to the howling truth above
but when my head dropped
the blue belows almost soothed

finally, before lungs gave,
tired fingers relented,
worried the knots,
freed the old strokes loose
Dave Robertson Sep 2021
There aren’t many jobs
where Sunday night
cold grips your guts
and has you palpitate

while midwives are called
and antiques are roadshowed
every inch of will is bent up
in figuring the impossible

if we all know how leading horses to water ends
then can we not give the stable hands a break?

As I watch my own digits shake,
stable hands seems like a joke
no one lets me in on
Dave Robertson Sep 2021
We try to sink into the crepuscular
as behind, another working week
picks us out of its teeth

we throw a couple of weaves
into the route to the sofa
for a headful of peace, maybe

though home has deaf ears too,
we love them
and through years of gaining favour
we’ll keep bruised hearts open there

beyond, you’ll see each aortal latch fixed,
each ventricular bolt slid
and each arterial snib
locked

if sweat and tears are the currency
you’d better ****** earn it
I S A A C Sep 2021
flipping cards, interpreting the message
but too scared to just shoot you a message
and ask you a couple of questions
too worried about repeating lessons
thought you were my blessing now I'm second-guessing
This life, part of many different situations,
To build our soul, to move on, after, this journey,
To our next role.
There are young, old, good, and bad influences,
Around us everywhere, our choice moving forward,
Giving life, ourselves A dare, or just hanging out,
Always wondering, what if, standing in A stare.
Some souls are very old, past prophets, old friends of, Jesus,
In this life to guide, lead, may be A total stranger, on A street,
That said A few words, you now follow,
Repeating them often, to everyone, you know and meet.
Everyone has energy, we can feel,
learn, teach with each other, pass the good on,
As knowledge, or A healing process, to someone, in need.
Everything, takes, time patience, in this world of greed.


The Original: Tom Maxwell © 8/20/2021 AD 11:00am
I looked out my window in morning, two small deer playing like puppies, then I saw two eyes of the mother deer staring at me, I got idea sat down wrote entire poem. is there a relation, or just a tory to tell?
Dave Robertson Aug 2021
At the core of my being
I reckon there’s oil
and garlic and salt
and probably chilli flakes,
lemon or lime zest and juice,
or orange at my heart

applicable herbs, like basil
thyme, oregano,
always rosemary as it grows

stock cubes
or those new jelly ones
to amuse the palate
in each experiment  

all to hold off the meal deals
we know are coming
Dave Robertson Jun 2021
To crawl, the impossible crawl
to swear, the most swearable curse
to bear all the ******* they throw us
and not, leave the place in a hearse

To nod, when you just want to punch
to eat, every snack that you see
to cry, when you misplace a pencil
or meltdown when you can’t find your keys

This is our quest!
To get to the end!
Without killing a colleague,
or upsetting our friends

To still teach fractious kids
without question or pause
to stride strong into period 5
without breaking some laws

And I know that the end is in sight
so I’ll bite my lip
late July will be peaceful and calm
with a big gin to sip

And the future will not be so bad
to our heart and skills we affirm
September we’ll all start again
but for now we consign to the past
the unteachable term
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