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I’m maddened at how
one night of lost sleep
launches you
into every shelf
of glass achievements
until there’s nothing
of your lifetime work.

But the way
you kaleidoscope
stained glass cathedrals,
bright chapels and shrines
from the crystal heap
will always
weaken my knees and
be magic to me.
The aroma of jasmine
announces my radiant
sorcery of washing hair
after the seven days since.

Touch my newly softened skin
as I let my towel slip.
Behold my breath so minty
Kiss my newly moistened lips

I can make no promises
on when I’ll do this again.
Thank you for holding me still
until we get back to then
nick armbrister Jul 2023
Always
There are those who are always humble
And those are arrogant and full of ****
Who work in the call centres
They are agents or bosses
Each has their own agenda
Either good or bad ever indifferent
Which one are you
Who do you aspire to be?

An honest rep or scoundrel
Brian didn't care for money
He cared for success
For success had a sweet taste
Brian knew what was what
And what he had to do
He was one of the quiet ones
Simply doing his job
Are you like this?
Francie Lynch Mar 2022
I should've written Thanks across a blue sky,
Where the winds would carry my message
Around the world.
But I didn't even try.

I should've banged my pots and pans,
Put a sign out on my lawn,
Or at least on a forward facing window.
But I didn't, and I'm wrong.

I could've, with minimal exertion,
Clicked Like or Love
On one of the millions of gratitude posts
Praising them... Them,
The essential and not so essential workers
On our northern, southern, eastern and western Fronts.
But I didn't, and it haunts.

So,
I will now say,
Thank You
To all those who expressed Thank You
To all those who have kept us healthy, safe and secure:

THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU.
(With regards to International Workers’ Day)



Who said workers are only workers?

They are a gift of heaven

They come for social good;

But return with lots of deterrence

You may treat them like engines

But always remember

There is also a worker

Somewhere within you

Who is keen to protect the dignity

Of these outdoor workers.

Workers are not only workers…

Above all, they are humans

Just like you and me.
Workers are not only workers
Dark n Beautiful Sep 2020
Sharks is not only in the river,
"Sometimes a shark can attack a human out of fear.
If for some reason that shark believed that"
a human is a threat then it might attack him."

As human being, we struggle with all sorts of emotions
So we plots against each, in ways more than other
unfortunately, those plot usually backfire,

For good can overpower evil in most cases
Be not overcome of evil, but overcome evil with good:
So you should know, the poet said to herself.

This past Tuesday, a secret was reveal to me
That a coworker was plotting against me,
But, the one she told, warned me,
That a shark was not only in the river,

Who God bless No man shall curse…
This individual, somehow, the ones
In the lab coats, favor her to do the
Odd and ends, it reminds me of
The slave masters informers,
To report back to him, and they shall be awarded
I listen to the one she told,
And took it in stride
Shall I planned a revenge,
Of do what I usually do most
And let the cookies crumbles?

Today, is a new day, a day to write a poem
About slavery tactic, and how the minds of the weak
Of slave ancestor survivor, can creep back in time
and space into the body of this co-worker:

A slave to fear…however,
a poets like I to reckon with.
I foresee a slap in her face,
But a bullet to her heart,
She is not the smartest!
only the master *******
.
Ces Jul 2020
Mundane concerns stifle
the soul that hungers for the infinite
Practicality subverts the mind
as it questions and wrestles with
this existential enigma...

Bound by the curse of productivity
and the insatiable drive for accumulation
Libidinal, perverse thoughts
drive the working man

to this, to that...

he is a puppet pulled by invisible strings:
the corporate, bureaucratic masters
calling the shots
laughing control freaks...
the world is theirs for the taking
and the worker-slave raises his hands
a sense of triumph
as the crumbs fall down

We live in a Kafkaesque era
merrily languishing
in this willful dementia.
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