From Publius
To Marcus

Marcus, I must apologize:
It is true that I said you were as Antinous
To Gaius' Hadrianus,
But do not fret, it was not in jest;
I truly did ask the Gods to curse you so.

You see, this farm,
This land,
Has been my ward long before you...
In your Janus mask,
Were hired.
At least that God understands the difference
Between war and peace.

Unlike you, dear Marcus,
Who brings only chaos to the fields;
A greater pestilence than any drought or rot.
You are the weevil that spoils the grain,
Corrupting all around you.

Poor Gaius has already fallen
Under your impious spell.
His fields grow fallow from association
With you Marcus!

What shame you bring your family
With your lazy immorality,
Incapable of discerning right from wrong,
Lest it be ascribed by your new dominus, Gaius,
Whose skin your claws flay with fatal flattery.

All this while I tend both your fields,
And mine own,
Working myself to the bone;
The heat, and sweat, and bugs,
Reminiscent of Pluto's underworld.
To honor my family.
To feed my family.

I honor my ancestors Marcus!
Daily, I make offerings to Gods of house and state
At my household alter;

The Capitoline triad overflow with my piety,
Bringing abundance to mine soul and soil alike.
Plenty, that you, sweet Antinous, claim as your own.

No longer.
I'm divorcing myself from all of you.
You can have the land.
As it stands it would make a beautiful wedding plot.
I've even gone to the trouble of forging you a ring,
Meticulously sourced from your masters ****!

Consider it a fragrant farewell
From your favorite fan,
Who will fondly not remember you,
Even as you scramble without me,
And miss the coattails you rode,
To usurp my home.

Woe to the plow;
Proscribed to die in rust.

Signed,
PERTINAX

It's been a year since we first physically met
But close to three years since we first virtually met
Thou art a fascinating person
From you, have I learned many a lesson
I love working with you
Sometimes, does it feel too good to be true!

It's been a year since we first physically met
For the team, art thou a brilliant asset
So fun are you, to be around
To your chatter, is there no end
Musical, is your laughter
Like you, can there be no other!!

It's been a year since we first physically met
Always, art thou upbeat
And so charming is your smile
That it instantly lifts the mood
And makes us forget all things bad
Not to mention, are you so supportive
That, around you, do we always feel positive
So good are you, at your work
That, even when things go berserk
Do you somehow manage to stay calm
Truly, is your presence a soothing balm!!

It's been a year since we first physically met
I feel we have been getting along great
Faced, have you, a lot of difficulties
However, always have you emerged strong
Hardly anything, have you done wrong
Thou art an awesome colleague
So proud do I feel, to be part of your league
Also, are you one of my nicest friends
Of you, am I quite fond
May the Lord bless you for evermore
With all the love, happiness, success, peace and prosperity in the world!!

I said once this place was where dreams came to die,
So why am I happy here?

I can see the years etched into these peoples faces,
On line for every life they should have lived but didn’t.
Creased skin coating arthritic bone;
Comatosed souls in caracasses.

Defiant if not alive.

Because there’s not an eye that doesn’t glisten with mischief in this prison.
Solidarity and laughter while we peel back the skin on our knuckles and chip away bone.

As though the blue plasters can patch up the damage from years where it didn’t trickle down.

Is being called “silly” really an insult?
Does it warrant an official call to apologise without one
moment taken to consider that the accusation may have merit?

Might we be so concerned for respect that we risk being out of touch with a few home truths?

Is it a problem to be questioned? Can we maintain confidence in ourselves whilst allowing our colleagues to make suggestions that may be equally as good.. or.. dare I suggest... better??

Are we risking the power of discourse in the fight to protect our “patch” or our “fiefdom”....

I don’t wish to fear the answers and hope we can exist to challenge and respect simultaneously... creativity is stifled when we don’t allow other angles to be considered...

Pride should not need to feel threatened... maybe we should aim our daggers at self-preservation.

Glum, chaotic musings
Dark clouds hovering in my mind
Torrential rains
Of pain
Anguish
My composure, weary floodgates
Ready to burst, crumble and fail
I'm lost inside the caverns
Of my soul.

And suddenly, a spark of deliverance!
As my fingers tap the keyboard
Nothing but clicking sounds.

Hello, we've reviewed your application,
we're based just down the road from Nottingham station.

Can you make it in?
We'd love to see you,
follow the signs, and walk straight through.

I filled out the form with help from a friend,
but he didn't get the call,
which I can't comprehend.

So, just me off to see the manager,
wear a shirt, plain white,
and of course a tie but not too tight.

I sit down, we talk, it's going well.
"So, why do you want to work here?"
"Because I'm broke as hell?"
"I mean, I love what you sell."

"Name three of your main strengths"
God, not this,
I always think they're *******.

Three things? So what do they need?
I'm honest, punctual, and work well in a team?

I'm in there for ages.
I thought this would be quick,
I hope I didn't sound too thick.
Maybe my answers did the trick?

I replay it in my head, over and over,
I just don't know how it's going to go.

I'm stressed as I walk back to the bus,
that was a lot of effort for an evening job at Toys R Us.

hypothetically
speaking:

you’re at the 8 hour job
they give no overtime,
no Christmas bonus,
no raise, no promotion
and yet you continue
to bend over backwards
for them only to receive
nothing but grief, guff
and paycheck so weak
you can’t even afford a
studio apartment for
yourself in return

without praise,
without thanks
or that you did
a good job

and after listening to the
the same repetitive music
and mind-numbing stories
from your co-workers
for hours and hours
days and days
weeks and weeks
months and months
years and years
decades and decades
eventually someone
is going to snap

and this is how shooters
are born,
this is how bomb threats
are made,
this is what encourages people
to commit random acts
of violence

these people are not monstrous
these people are broken
and they have been
driven into doing
monstrous things

but upper management’s
only concern is filling the
owner’s pockets with money,
not your mental stress—
they want you to deal
with that on your own
time, not theirs,
although they may be
the cause

and in the end when the blur
of mass murdering happens
from the rampage of the
disgruntled employee
they act shocked
and terrified with
cries of outrage
that such inhumane
things can be
happening
right now.

we’re all responsible
for our own actions
but it takes a sadistic
type of someone to
propel another person
into going berserk,
to start seeing red in
transcending limitations

some reasonable men
are pushed into doing
unreasonable things

as the shadows have stopped
in the circle of dead children.

Should I sell my subservience
of my mind, body and soul
to boss at work?

How much freedom
should my self retain
from my boss?