#account
From rhetted and cracked and combed fine twined linens
Linear Poetics and Prophetic utterances, ravings
and interpretations, crosswired inconsistences, oops
and interjections acquiring constant reminder who wins,
ah, who won when what changed and now was, all we got
loops with a twist and some ganz pathos balm for shame,
we got a chance, eh, we can reason together, we get over
old time religions eh, we can use augmented vision, active
matter of fact realized networks of LEO satellites active factors
material conceptual line upon line leaving empty open spacetime
-------------
Line upon line, it's scripture, old say it in stone, never take it back,
unless you walk it to the so so sorry say it place and say it and break it
until only the shards Job used to scrape his boils test if I know you know/
Notions taken and used to tie tangled wind mind winding spinning
winter something somebody can do and talk and think at once,
and something some one can suggest we talk to the thread,
through old breaths we bet we took right when half, to within
inches of our lives, we bet fool's bets and bragged, if we won,
and I remember Sidney Dancer, related on my Boyett branch,
the side known to rear rustlers and horse thieves and such,
from three grandmas back, Molly Dancer's kids was mostly
good, after a fashion, during those years between ten and
thirty-five or so, fine, well-traveled kaleche limestone old
tracks Ariadne yarns all rolled into a clue true to times tests,
patience, paid attensions rocking woven told true to rythmns
practiced prized rhymes rolling with Sysiphus, up one side,
down the other, if we lie we die, told true if vivify.
Sid shot a kid in the summer after fifth grade,
it was sad, it did not make national news… it was 1959.
That's all part of the rest of all those old demented discourses
that made the peace we use to think with to this very instance.
Dec 30, 2025
Dec 30, 2025 at 7:30 PM UTC
Kaput Scripted
The top boss carved the account up some more
He put in place an extra step so no duplicate accounts were made
This was fine in the managers’ eyes an extra layer of a layer
And it created work for a back office guy making those accounts
It was his job to do it not the call centre agents
If they made a new account they got beasted and fired
It was easy to create a new account yet full of risk
Send the details to your TL and then in the form
So back office has it and will make the account
The account will be made and sent to your TL
Who will reassign it to the rep that made the call
No double accounts no confusion yet more stress
Adding to the wait time while the rep does compliance
Completes a needs assessment vets the customer
Sends a promo approval to his TL who sends it
To the manager who sends it to the client
All the while the patient customer holds like a fool
When all this is done and the account is sent over
The closer calls the VT team who complete the sale
If the DM has funds on a working card all is fine
If any step fails the whole thing collapses
What a nice time for me to be endorsed
To a different version of my old healthcare account
No more sales on a failing B2B account
Aug 19, 2024
Aug 19, 2024 at 8:47 AM UTC
Stop Fate
The agents go to work
The OM sends them home
90 minutes before EOD
The account is in the red
I know you all understand
Check your messages later
Your TL will advise you
If there is work this week
The reps are quiet
It wasn’t meant to be so bad
Some have been reassigned
To different accounts
They count down the days
Others want to save the account
By getting many more sales
You cannot stop fate
Aug 19, 2024
Aug 19, 2024 at 8:40 AM UTC
That Crap
Same old **** on the account
Divide and conqueror defeated in battle
Wait till the account folds
Client pulls it out we can't wait!
All reps reassigned or leave
Something better than this
We are not made for this moment
We deserve better will be greater
Unless you want us to be depressed
And cry like puppies the account failed
There's more to life than sales
B2B outbound cold calls
Hey buy our service make us rich
At first we believed till we woke up
It's the same crap as the rest
Just dressed up differently
What we do next will be better
Cos we ain't doing that crap!
Aug 19, 2024
Aug 19, 2024 at 8:37 AM UTC
Voor de Nederlandse dichters en kunstenaars onder ons: stuur me je instagram account, ik heb zin om nieuwe dingen te lezen 😊. Neem als je wilt ook een kijkje op mijn nieuwe account: @uniting.writing! Ik zie je daar!
Jan 10, 2021
Jan 10, 2021 at 6:33 PM UTC
on account of you:
she says: do you know you often smile when, day dream dozing?
me says: on account of you
she says: c’mon sweet talking man, ain’t gonna fall for that hooey!
me says: hooey, phooey, on account of you
she says: nah, you writing poetry, no fooling me no more!
me says: on account of you
*she says: I bet you got one of your girl friends singing to you, through
those wireless earbuds, doncha? who is it this time? a Sara or Joni?*
me says: on account of you.
*she says: you think big shot, you can multitask b.s. me? doing three things
at the same time!*
me says: on account of you
*she says: on account of you, I’m seriously ****** you don’t tell me anymore
sweet lies and alibis, probably writing an ode to one of your poetry gf babes!*
me says: on account of you, can’t count no more, how many love poems in my lifetime written, and this one too, going out to you, charged to my tab, you babe,
are my account, my accountant, my accounting....
Jun 21, 2020
Jun 21, 2020 at 1:43 PM UTC
If my bygone
echo was life
I would have already been rescinded .
But back by popular demand,
nihility..
I never got past yesterday.
If your account of this is passing pages
then I'm an obituary that people skim past,
death on paper is still
a cemetery of yesterdays that people never visit.
Apr 8, 2020
Apr 8, 2020 at 5:15 PM UTC
What if wisdom, the thing, the being imaged
in the word
Sophia,
philo sophia, in a meme re maining, to this very day,
as true a depictical actual form, as lovable
as any, though
the thousand ******* of Artemis, that image...
Ask how many Dr. Spock Pablum fed boys,
would that image have cured from
mammary ******* sensory deprivation syn
drome, trap for lost boys,
never wishing fully formed in Michael Jackson, eh?
The Peter principle,
rise to the level of one's
incompetence and **** ****
and consume enough food for all Artemisis
famishished little lies, calling
more, more, more
Narrow AI, lust response,
so artfully inspired by Eddy Bernays,
and the silver screen's seductive radio voices,
Eddy,
you know, the Madison Avenue behabiourilist,
Freud's nephew... he cited Watson, the
one before the one
with Crick. Jimenee, we have been Disnified... if
I'd known
sooner, I'd have left your cake out in the rain...
so it melts, like the wicked witch of the west, or
east, I lost my bearings
who is asking what of whom,
am I involved in evolving your synaptic gaps?
We did entangle, in a sense. You are dear reader,
in the book of life with my name in it. Not on, in.
Feb 28, 2020
Feb 28, 2020 at 1:34 PM UTC
Isn't it weird
You know who you are
You found my poetry
3 times
Even the account I deleted
I remember you following me
It makes me smile
Sep 25, 2019
Sep 25, 2019 at 4:14 PM UTC
In each life's quest, unique paths unfold,
Yet one truth remains, unwavering, bold.
Amidst tales of men who've traded their soul,
Surface appearances may oft deceive, we're told.
Not all that gleams with a golden hue,
Holds the substance and worth that rings true.
For within gilded tombs, lies naught but decay,
Worms, the silent heralds, claim their final sway.
Had we possessed wisdom as daring as youth,
In limbs strong, while judgment spoke truth,
Our answers would be etched in ancient scrolls,
But alas, our journey's pages, the wind now strolls.
Farewell, dear ambitions, as our pursuit grows cold,
Time slips away on the wings of vain-nity, we're told,
A labor lost, indeed, in the clutches of frost.
Everyone treads their path, unique, unswayed,
Yet Death's embrace awaits, undeterred, unfrayed.
What accounts shall we offer, once life's curtain is drawn?
A leap of faith, yet no bungee cord, not a bond.
As the future unfolds, mirroring our origin's lore,
Reason and faith lost, a civilization's core,
A generation labeled, entitled and remiss,
Yet let us pause, reflect, dispel this amiss.
The hunter's blame befalls the prey, unaware,
Birds of all feathers, converge in their earthly affair.
And in due time, true worth shall stand tall,
Rewards bestowed, earned, by each heart's recall.
For it is in the balance of merit we find,
A legacy shaped by one's own design.
May 14, 2019
May 14, 2019 at 12:14 PM UTC
Self-indulgence
eats away at me
like my vanity
gnaws at the bones
of my bank account.
Nov 26, 2018
Nov 26, 2018 at 2:50 PM UTC
‘Earth’
maybe a mole
in the mountain of space.
But the story is bigger
than any epic tale.
It's the one scoops
the bottom line
of the bottomless space!
Small simple finishing
tells the complete tale
'as above, so below'.
One that takes into
account all the matter
and the entire space.
The story goes on
The fine earth takes its place.
Now the mountain
sits on the mole space!
Jul 7, 2017
Jul 7, 2017 at 10:06 PM UTC
Round and around
trying harder to let out a sound
in all the noises
I will never be found
I'd really like to astound
but I have no such current account
I look at the people crowned
not a single frown
smiles surround
Along them
I try pretend
Sentences silver and gold
choices not too bold
the ideas carefully framed
the visions all very tamed
nothing I had in mind
just to please their time
Speak all the roses
hide all the thorns.
Feb 3, 2018
Feb 3, 2018 at 3:39 AM UTC
can someone volunteer to help me
set up another Hello Poetry account
as I've not the know how in creating
a second or possibly a third account
so please feel free to jot any information down
in the comment's section of this write
then I'll be able to start penning under
an additional name on the Hello Poetry site
Mar 12, 2017
Mar 12, 2017 at 6:54 PM UTC