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Alfred Edward Housman wrote about this county from London,
we smoke pipes and drink pints to honour the scholar's story,
which can be checked out the library, former learning quarters
of an explorer named Charles Darwin, who sits in grey outside,
despite leaving town in adolescence, returning from Galapagos
to The Mount, where my parents met in mental health sickness,
gave life to an original species that theories would have hated,
like Robert Clive, who earned his knighthood by looting India,
cried in parliament, now we want his stage ousted, his house is
next to the cottage where I sleep restless because myself and
a few other Shropshire lads failed to escape, even after studying
centurion debates, athletic form and getting serenaded by greats,
where are the names of those who rose from minimum wage?
Poem #29 from my collection 'A Shropshire Grad'. This poem addresses the issues and themes in my collection most directly - namely, the class division.
My theory was written on the other side of town.
Eyes that had only watched the world through
a single pane of glass, found reflections all round.
Where I used to see grey, crisp formations of cloud.
Even in the house, blocks of door painted one colour
were replaced with dreamlike figures cutting cake.

Anyway, yesterday a man wearing a Union Jack
flag on his waist and sleeve told me his worries.
Five or six cars parked, eight or nine bedrooms
lying cold and lonely while in the south of France.
To lose count of the windows in one's life, I thought,
as he asked me about the proletariat. Luxury indeed.
Poem #16 from my collection 'A Shropshire Grad'. Inspired by a conversation I had with a neighbour.
Let's take a dive through my home estate,
a place I've tried to escape since my first brainwave.
I'll show you flat roofs and wayward avenues,
shopping trolleys that become steeds at two in the morning
next to mowed down greenery lying abandoned due to overuse.
I used to deliver newspapers along this route.
This spot, right here, has a great Wrekin view.
Back in my youth, it reminded me of you -
new roads, new horizons, new people to meet.
Let's keep moving to the end of the street
where a house is sent letters from the wicked government,
asking a mother if she's recovered from her own ill head.
Like her bed is four-poster when she can barely pay rent.
Her pathway displays a name written in cement.
Our descent continues with the drop-offs at Maccies.
A clock towers over us while we're waiting for taxis
to take us out of this place and onto higher plains
with house party nights and endless summer days.
But our dreams remain chained like bicycle frames,
The keys are locked away, we pray
in cars under stars, they say
we can be anything we want to be.
Such as royalty, or prime minister of this great country,
if we work as hard as anyone who's born into money.
So we hunt for hidden weaponry, hoping they see our cannon fire
and where spirits only fade, there will one day be a parade.
Poem #1 from my collection 'A Shropshire Grad'. This poem describes some of my experiences growing up poor in the suburb of Donnington, Telford.
nom de plume Jul 31
i never bought the whole dark academia thing.
sure, ****** and drugs and *** are torrid and dark when you're from a rich family,
when you've never woken up to the news of your childhood best friend being shot to death,
when you haven't seen your family and friends fall into the seductive cesspool of opioid addiction,
when half of your class was pregnant by the time senior year rolled around.
the academic upper class thinks what working class kids go through is sexier when the backdrop of the overdose is chandeliers and silk,
instead of a small town parking lot at 3am.
my aesthetic reality of academia is scholarships, it's leather jackets and nicotine addictions
it's having the only fifteen-year-old car in the campus parking lot and hoping to find a plug before the first week of classes.
it's not sleeping between work and class and partying. it's being the only one whose dad isn't buddies with the guy giving me an internship.
it's lonely. it's the crippling loneliness of not understanding upper class social cues,
it's reading crime and punishment in the slivers of time between work and work and class and more work
and emphasizing with raskalnikov so much it makes your teeth ache.
it's coughing up blood.
it's having health insurance for the first time in college and still not using it.
it's drowning, it's fighting, it's violent and heroic and painful and
never knowing
if you'll actually
make it.
aL Nov 2018
Sa kalyeng punong puno ng dukha
Kamalayan ko'y nabubuksan na
Sikip at init ng mundong ibabaw
Dama lahat nitong pusong naligaw

Kahirpan talaga'y dapat maranasan
Bigat ng aking daigdig napapasan
Sakripisyo sa buhay, aking puhunan
Nang kasalatan nama'y mabawasan

Makita nawa ng iyong mga mata
Lahat ay may kanyakanyang suliranin
Minsa'y humihingi rin naman ng awa
Ang iyong nang hihinang mga alipin

Maglalaho sa mundo lahat ng hirap
Banggit ng mga kataastaasan,
Ngunit sa ngayon, ang tanging problema'y; aking kabuhayan.

11:57pm 11-14-18
Walang asenso....kasi maraming typo xD pasensya
it
takes
a lot to
achieve
the very
difficult task
of boiling the ocean but if you
self-actualize your aspirations
in the grasps of your fingers
like a feather in the cap then you
will execute plans of success
and it's easy enough to fail
but for those who've never
tried hard enough or at all,
there's always someone out
there wanting to employ you
so they can accomplish theirs.

and when you get there,
they'll have you work
in the sweltering heat
without air conditioning

and next to people with an
intelligence level further
below par than ever imaginable

and for an under-qualified
supervisor with soft hands,
who never did the dirt with
no prior experience in the
managerial field, they
just "know people"
and haven't a clue or any
knowledge to your job duties,
yet they could effortlessly,
write you up for neglecting
the daily tasks

and at the end of every
two demeaning weeks of  
having the knife held to my throat
and being fed cookies with no milk,
they've prodded a piece of my mind
mentally,
they've violated a piece of my body
physically,
they've robbed a piece of my soul
spiritually
and in return,
I've recieved a piece of their feeble paycheck
insufficiently.

it may not be much
but it's worthy enough to be
retrieveable, especially when
you've been walking around
without any heads or tails in
your pockets for some time
from this pitiful low-wage job
and after feeling like they've
******* me too many times
like a hate **** on a blistering
hot summers night,
I've felt like ******* off the cap
of this bottle and it will be the only
******* I'll be doing as I settle up
my accounts with all the words that
end in the letter K
while I'm dreaming of delusions
that somewhere out there
there's another
golden opportunity
waiting for me
at some other
low-wage pitiful job
that I know
I'm surely
missing out on
and you might be working there,
feeling just the same and ashamed
as I and wondering the same thing
about my job and maybe,
we as compatriots
of the common cloth,
who never had a chance,
made pliable in the wind
amongst the stiffened trees,
will one day, cross each other's paths

but my aphorisms tell me that...

I shouldn't kiss a pair of ****
after they've been *******
on by someone else.
Lingerie rustles
As hangers squeak and strain,
Sliding across the sturdy bars
That hold retail up,
Cradling profits,
Like a fistful of bills,
Illspent.
I yawn;
Exhausted by such a drearily normal moment;
A weary reminder
Of the long hours ahead of me,
And the demands of my
Ever-watchful overlords.
Still,
my mind wanders,
Thinking that perhaps sleep will come easily tonight,
Despite the wakeful rest I've found here
leaning on this
cool,
white
counter.
Perhaps it will be time to leave soon,
And reach
for the sunny skies I can see
taunting me from beyond the glass;
To leave behind this dusty,
dreaming
perspective,
And leap into adventures,
as of yet,
unknown.
I sigh,
Returned
to be merely an observer to my working hell,
An unwilling participant
To the necessary waste
of a perfect Spring day.
Michael Leggett Mar 2018
Exemption from passion like working with satisfaction turning the digital clock pocketed the money fits into slots opening future doors like pin ***** dots.
These calluses create tools for deranged fools to tare holes onto those that need paper the most and Ivory towers and golden harshness at birth dictate life’s glooms and hardship, whilst 2nd place in races almost always face the independent states of our minds, but the people that have less, given more will always represent respect and in our eyes.
Alas paper with faces does unfortunately dictate life’s inevitable flow in this race.
Any feedback would be greatly appreciated as it would advance my writing allowing me to progress. Thankyou.
Breathe...
In and out of consciousness
Waken by alarm
Hit the Snooze button nine times
over and rub the crust
from your eyes
Lethargically shifting gears out of bed
Scratch your belly
Get dressed
****, ****, Wipe your ***
Wash your hands
Brush your teeth and comb your hair
until it's perfect
Permeate yourself with anti-perspirants
and mouth wash
Force feed coffee and breakfast down
your throat with 30 seconds
to the door
Climb into your four banger jalopy
and hurry up.....only to slow down
for all posted speed limits and
fight traffic with all the
other scatterbrains
Destination upon arrival with only
minutes to spare
Breathe....
Punch in and out of time clocks
at the nine to five dead end job
for the captains of industries
with the dullards you call "coworkers"
Living the dream by
working hard
for others who are
making more money
than they pay you  
in another day of paradise
Powerhouse through lunch with
no time to enjoy the simplicity
of the little things
Take orders
Be obedient
Have patience
Listen to abysmal music and
******* and complaining with
mind numbing conversations of
tedious and repetitive proportions
**** with permission to do so
After all, you are,
who they want you to be
Relieved your day of drudgery
is almost over with you
breathe....
Fight traffic again
Stop for gas and novelties
Get a Flat tire
Overheated
Over exhausted
Under stimulated
Get home
And without a moment of
relaxation or thought....
Parent your children
Guide them
Put a bandage on their cuts and scrapes,
kiss their wounds and tell them
it's going to be ok
You want to raise them right
You don't want them to end up
dead or in jail
Impish little *******
After school activities
Help them with homework
Chores
Sweep, Mop, Vacuum, Laundry,
Mow the lawn, Garden
Under the sink, household cleaners
and detergents
Cook dinner
Chew your food slowly over an
Awkward family conversation
How was your day?
May I please be excuse?
Clear your plates
Scrub the pots and pans
and eating utensils until
they're clean for next time
Breathe.....
Commercial buildings providing
everything for your wants and jollies
Stand in line with the other galoots
in the land of consumption and
purchase the unnecessary provisions
of plastics and sugars
Return your library books on time
Enter through where it says "enter"
Exit though the exit door
No smoking
No pets allowed  
Scroll through your
rolodex of contacts and
hold for an hour as you
make phone call after
phone call, planning out
your next five years with
appointments after appointments and
filling up your calendar
with events of nonessential importance
Stay economically viable while
managing your finances and
paying your bills and taxes
Breathe.....
Cleanse yourself and your children
in a shower or bathe in your
own filth with shampoo
and conditioner
Lather and rinse
Moisturize and groom
Brush and floss your teeth
Tuck the kids in under their
nice warm blankets
Bedtime stories
Ghost stories
Night lights
Give them a glass of water
Check for closet monsters
Hugs and kisses goodnight
No time to think
Only unwind
Adult time
No reward for your attainment
other than a few moments of tranquility
Blissful transgression
Impromptu
Soaked in cocktails and
spirits of intoxicants
Recreational drug use
Prescription sedatives
and tranquilizers
The nighttime candies
of sedation
Take it all in
Let it grab you by the boo boo
Clear the room of the smoke
and haze with the 500 channels
in front of you
Tv shows
Sitcoms and soap operas
Comedies, Horror, Suspense
You laugh
You cry
You have fun
You don't think for a while
*** on special occasions
Fall asleep in the tv room
Make it to bed at a reasonable hour
Dream of another world
that doesn't exist
Nightmares and dreamscapes
Slumber and shuteye
40 winks
A snoozer if you will
Sleep
Just Breathe
Breathe....
Breathe....
Repeat....
Everyday until your
old and grey
Letting life pass you by
sun stars moons Oct 2015
an angry argument thrown at an opponent as arrows shoot across the battlefield over an expensive bottle of Cabernet.

walls and borders mapped out in thick pencil lines, they hastily marked their territory before it all drowned in earthy blood-red.

Fresh pepper, sir?

— The End —