#agent
ICE agents prowling, a band plays stairway to heaven.
my wife is Mexican. they stop us at the store.
"i'm a US citizen!"
detaining my wife, child, and me, my family broken.
we're split up and taken like it is a chore.
"i'm a US citizen!"
our socials are nothing they'd believe in,
i tried pulling them out and found them torn.
ICE agents prowling, a band plays stairway to heaven.
in a line in a room with smells that can't be taken in
easily without thinking, "i can't take this anymore,
i'm a US citizen!"
i see the line for women and children.
my wife holding hands, i think to run, my tears pour.
ICE agents prowling, a band plays stairway to heaven.
running and running, tackling and tackling, and they're livened.
oh they riff in the air like they can't hear more.
ICE agents prowling, a band plays stairway to heaven.
"i'm a US Citizen!"
Nov 21, 2025
Nov 21, 2025 at 12:36 PM UTC
Vexations
Tell the boss how you really ******* feel
His job totally ****** ***** and he does as a boss
Blame him for you having no sales!
As he’s in charge and talks to the client
Who sends over new leads you call
Give me some good leads and you’ll get sales
Simple as that give me old **** leads
What do you expect me to get nothing?
Why I feel frustrated and ****** off!
Unlike the clicky bosses who click along
And most of the other reps with a sale each
Give me a sale and I’ll feel a bit better
If the right offer comes up see you later
Aug 20, 2024
Aug 20, 2024 at 10:47 PM UTC
Together
Metrix love them hate them
Top box CSAT bottom box DSAT
What makes or breaks a rep
Or Team Leader or support
Your stats are my stats
My stats are your stats
We’re in this crap together
The call centre job
Love it hate it do it together
Top or bottom never middle
Aug 20, 2024
Aug 20, 2024 at 1:07 AM UTC
The call centre rep/was branded on his top arm/it hurt for six months
Aug 20, 2024
Aug 20, 2024 at 12:55 AM UTC
I am searching for a literary agent who would assist me in publishing my poetry compilation if you know anyone please send me a message, including their contacts
Thank you
Dec 15, 2020
Dec 15, 2020 at 5:13 PM UTC
coerced and inundated,
demands insistent, strident,
prioritize me before-the-less-restless,
escape to the land of
reply all.
our dictionary is now closed.
all words are currently unavailable.
delays are currently unavoidable.
no guarantees re punctuation accur,acy imp lied.
your on your own today.
common sense is still open and trading.
make your own words.
clarity, your burden, innovation, your standard,
all one words spoken.
replytoalltoday.
wearenolongeracceptingapplications.
themarketofthemindisclosed.
donotreplytothisreply'all
Sep 29, 2017
Sep 29, 2017 at 4:19 PM UTC
𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘐 𝘸𝘰𝘬𝘦 𝘶𝘱 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞
𝘕𝘰 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝐜'𝐦𝐨𝐧
𝘋𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘐 𝐨𝐰𝐧
𝘞𝘩𝘰 𝘢𝘮 𝘐? 𝘛𝘰 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘐'𝘮 𝐮𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧
𝘛𝘰 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘐'𝘮 𝘢 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫
𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸s 𝘐'𝘮 𝘢 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫
𝘐'𝘮 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫
𝘈𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬 (𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵) 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝐰𝐚𝐫
𝘋𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘢𝘴𝘬 𝘮𝘦 𝐰𝐡𝐲
𝘉𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘪𝘴 𝐥𝐢𝐞
𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘺 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘺 𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞
𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐥𝐞
𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘮𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦? 𝘚𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘐'𝘮 𝘢 𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐨𝐤
𝘕𝘰𝘵 𝘢𝘯 𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘯 𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤
𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝐦𝐞
𝘉𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘪𝘴 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘢 𝘭𝘪𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝐦𝐞
Jun 15, 2020
Jun 15, 2020 at 6:14 AM UTC
*saw:
the adoration of the daddy,
as his red haired babes
leaned into
either side of him,
courtiers to a king
on the way to school this AM,
transfusing his magical super~fatherly,
by inhaling his special powers through
their nostrils, direct from his
broad and powerful brave-heart chest,
for use later in the wild jungle*
of second grade
•••
*an elderly gent whose walker rattled
with every lift and kerplunk on
the street~steppes of a dangerous city
for the brittle of bone and the easily dentable,
and the crowd that gathered round walking
at precisely the same pace he required
to make it across the widest boulevard
which was thirty seconds more than the
Dept. of Transportation's asinine calculations
and a miracle from Lourdes occurred -
not one horn honked in ire as the court
escorted their Long Live the King
safely across the street, as if*
***idiocy was like rain, against the law,
until after sunset as in Camelot***
•••
*an elegant germanic man,
in homburg and velvet collared overcoat,
taking care of sales and distribution of
newspapers and candy at the corner paper "stand"
while the elderly owner, whose partner~wife of
fifty years had recently passed, now had no one
but someone's pop whose was out
walking our cocker spaniel,
to tend the place while said candyman
obeyed nature's callings
and all his fans and friends who passed
on their way to the adjacent subway station,
exclaimed Erwin, Erwin what are you doing?
his twinkled crinkled eyes replied,
enjoying their puzzlement, laughingly saying*
"making spare change"
•••
*where I lived these little miracles occurred so frequently,
was told a story that the ministering angels
could not keep up with their duties,
complaining to the On High, who resoundingly loudly
commanded their silence! by reminding them that
all these, his creatures, were his own precious,
the reason for creation and why they were needed,
and the sum of all these small acts gave them their own
existential purpose, now angry at himself for loss of temper,
soft spoke as a parent and told them better,*
hush my children, we have much to do!
•••
*so now you impatiently need to know
why this scripture
came to be known as
$$$$$
for I was witness to all of this,
all on that day,
that was twenty fours hours long
across many hard hearted Hiroshima decades,
that made me
temporarily
the richest man in the world
Oct 4, 2017
Oct 4, 2017 at 2:51 PM UTC
Drunk on polluted farts of the left winds
pulled by long noses into witless pens spewing red ink
artificial energy from Columbia and caffeine powered husks
vacuous soldiers of Mao and Lenin re-drilling Winter Palace debacle
woke world of plastics damaged to plastic pollution by damagers fair
Narrow minded short sighted rabbles humming
Laissez-faire sanctioners regulating home-brewed hocks
equal distribution is hatching Gullivers limb by limp to feed giants
makes sense in the senseless vacuum of bacon slashers by Farm pigs
beasts of every land and clime this is the new world order by crimson
Pol *** psychologists are making the future
cancerous and caffeinated they read minds and pull strings
power is making my bad choices, frustration and inadequacies yours
two wrong makes right and dare see left as a wrong or you are goner
altra right come take lessons on how to mask and leave pointed hats behind......
Sep 9, 2019
Sep 9, 2019 at 6:09 AM UTC
at your own peril!
*dare to vex
provoke, antagonize, exasperate
that is what my words will do
they won't irritate or annoy,
bug or merely peeve,
a simple bother
insufficient
vex
your core,
demand
that you more
than mere question yourself
but riptide extracts the
elemental,
battery acid on the essence bared
learn the power of crafting words
for maximum effect
torment, infuriate,
expose yourself,
what has lain beneath the skin,
you will let me in,
to let you out
why play with poetry,
the most dangerous weapon
unless you nakedly intend to*
!dare to vex!
Aug 25, 2015
Aug 25, 2015 at 8:00 PM UTC
*tremulous and tender, the crook'd finger
neither timid or tentative,*
yet trembles,
*though it be from
care, not fear, consideration, not trepidation
the renegade finger strokes her sleeping cheek,
tender the tip to each cell beloved, as if sealing a bond
there is no more to say
when awakening comes, one will be gone,
with no note, thus this last soft stoking, outline stroking
tremulous and tender, his finger, U shaped-crook'd,
but he is no longer is her
you*
he leaves, departing, yet lightly shaking,
no longer can he be her prized and proud claiming show-horse,
gone, that man she loved, for he cannot abide his being
called a former, dark glory, a bent cane spirit,
his body, its entirety,
crooked by weight of an improvident provision,
not just his finger, this, his,
a greater intolerable,
his pain of failure unacceptable
and shame searing,
his woe bends his love acrooked
Oct 19, 2017
Oct 19, 2017 at 4:41 PM UTC
I tried to be a secret agent
I smuggled the keys to your heart
Little did I know
You had changed the lock
Mar 13, 2019
Mar 13, 2019 at 1:12 PM UTC
I’ve been struck down again,
fully aware it’s my own doing.
Do you have a heart you can lend?
Mine’s drying from the taping and the glueing.
Oh my darling, oh my darling,
oh my sweet Clementine,
are you smiling or are you snarling,
more importantly are you mine?
Outside the window seasons blend,
the temperature holds no meaning.
I notice the change and the trend,
to ignore the withdrawals from weaning.
Oh my darling, oh my darling,
oh my sweet Clementine,
you’ve been avoiding and been barring,
but you can’t severe this line.
The stronger the initial fear
usually means the most is at stake,
and trying to prevent a single tear
can lead to the worst heartbreak.
Those who leave the best memories
usually leave us with the most hurt,
you know we can’t just live life with ease,
there needs to be some blood on a white shirt.
You can try to completely forget someone,
but putting that effort in means you’re actually fixated more,
and after all is said and done,
honestly who do you wish to be behind that door?
Oh my darling, oh my darling,
oh my sweet Clementine,
is it cleansing or more harming,
to live in denial all the time?
Oh my darling, oh my darling,
oh my sweet Clementine,
when it’s finished it’ll be starting,
and I’ll stand under the Montauk sign.
Feb 19, 2019
Feb 19, 2019 at 7:07 AM UTC
when she
was wise
that underlay
spies with
greater machines
whether grants
alight her
home yet
align a
sentence with
parallel verve
of song
but with
melodious flight
in throes
would spirit
those nights
Jan 27, 2019
Jan 27, 2019 at 11:19 AM UTC
All this having spanned
since a borning
is the activity of Sleeper Agent
This Agent has grown Impy
of this lively drumming of clingings
It is recognised and marked as ;
distraction
an entertainment
an irreverent viewing
A clearer work must commence
an underlying detached being
Operations within the drama life
are now operations in a training ground
All these efforts are toward Project Awake
and projected life is now secondary
though useful.
Jan 5, 2019
Jan 5, 2019 at 5:09 PM UTC
what has come to this
indigenous things we do~
better follow the others
cause what once was fiction
now rings true
can't blame apocalypse
our letters aren't edible
and judicious arrangements
are post script letters
so i embrace the gift
that i'm a wandering wolf~
cow paths lead to danger in my book
and these sheep follow bull's ****
raw hide as a service
systems on delivery
don't follow lines of those deserving this
what has come
& what will be
Jul 15, 2018
Jul 15, 2018 at 12:35 AM UTC
a bill
of fire
lifted my
queen with
a submarine
arise to
their heights
near the
Bering Sea
now their
democracy in
a gilded
age of
maternity while
in Minsk
they'd sing
Magellan's hymn
Feb 19, 2018
Feb 19, 2018 at 3:46 AM UTC
me and her we barely talk
like spies for different governments
I've tried extracting information
but I'm cut off, passing out
and I wake up every time
17, heart-broken with silence
blank stares scan my every evening
somehow I am still invisible
turning this into a cold green light
to explore the dark corridors of my heart
my thoughts turn to microfilms
and battle plans and secret blueprints
my cover's hanging by a thread
I'm now a fugitive with everything to lose
a secret agent in love with their handler,
the disembodied string of signs on glowing screen
how much emptier than this is it possible to get
because there is no home
and you can't just go back to the agency
one wrong step and charges vary
from espionage to treason
and there've never been any right moves
at all
so now it's back to basics
Jul 24, 2017
Jul 24, 2017 at 2:50 PM UTC
If Traveler were my manager
I'd still be poor, yes, destitute
no gigs, or clubs, or money
no golden, parachute
I'd poetically wander the plains
of poverty, debt, and dearth
no funds would be, or remain
not a cent, upon this earth
So ware the offer, if it comes
his heart's in the right place
but know, there won't be any sums
as your coffers emptier, than space
Jul 11, 2017
Jul 11, 2017 at 8:24 AM UTC
Wonder how they came up ahead of me… she’d been leaking information to the enemy. A double agent. She loves me but it can’t be helped. It is her nature. Well don’t you know, my seductive charming spy mistress, that the fuse is lit. Your behavior, a recipe for calamity. We might be the epicenter, ground zero, but no one shall be spared. Everyone involved will be affected. A 360 degree firestorm of shrapnel. Just because. You needed more… to feel more beautiful, more wanted, more seductive, by more parties. Never enough. More.
Love lies spilling guts, from the mess up still partially beautiful. Face almost calm, not contorted. Pain is numbed as she disintegrates like vapour. But we’ve become a desert and it will not rain back for centuries.
Jul 10, 2017
Jul 10, 2017 at 2:13 AM UTC
As he'd flip his hat
his ties have shone
though quaint in fact
just belied and bade
his call of freedom yet
his mapping afield where
he'd belay topography
and his harmony too
with hint of something new
even enticed quite averse
that hastened to implore
he cherished that linen
more refined in his attire
as he must wear it again.
Mar 13, 2017
Mar 13, 2017 at 7:57 PM UTC
For the life of me
I cannot understand the monotony
Chasing tails up and down stairwells
Ludicrous!
How can you call this excitement?
I cannot remember the last 5 minutes!
This dreadful spinning
Responsibility is heavy
Calling all my friends and family
Government mandatory
Legalized this circus
There is no way around it
you must have insurance!!!
Now they will label me
Certainly the wolf at the door
Stacking up bills
You can't afford to ignore
So maybe one day
IF you qualify
You can give someone money
When you die
Mar 10, 2017
Mar 10, 2017 at 4:52 PM UTC
Bill lit up a cigarette,
began to dress.
The young punk on the bed
yakked about left wing crap.
Bill turned off his hearing,
the *** had been good,
the talk not.
He buttoned up his collar,
tied his tie.
Exhaled the smoke,
put on his shoes.
Walked to the small kitchen,
flipped on the radio,
put on the kettle.
The young punk
got off the bed, dressed,
gazed at the older man
in the kitchen,
classic **** from the radio.
Bill offered
coffee and toast.
The young punk said: ok,
sat in a chair,
pushed fingers
through black hair,
shoulder length.
Bill took in the Debussy,
turned on the toaster,
made coffee.
The kid was talking away,
lit up,
watched Bill's back,
the shooter in an holster
over the shoulder.
Bill laid down
the coffee and toast,
sat opposite the punk,
gentle spoke.
The punk had liked the ***
ate the toast,
sipped the coffee,
feared the shooter.
The Debussy ended,
Bach ***** music,
punk yawned.
Are you a cop?
the punk asked.
No, Bill said,
in business.
Business?
the punk wondered
what sort,
exhaled smoke.
Worldwide stuff,
Bill said,
musing on
the arranged suicide
**** in Iraq,
dead is dead.
Feb 2, 2017
Feb 2, 2017 at 12:05 PM UTC
Bill knew the facts;
He lies abed.
Lifts up his eyes
to the shadeless
naked light bulb.
The Bay of Pigs,
that fiasco in 61.
Kennedy was ******
Castro survived.
The Agency
out to get him:
Pres JFK,
not Castro yet.
Conspiracy
they call it now.
A turkey shoot,
to take him out.
Bill had met him
in the White House,
good looking dude,
had talked briefly.
22nd
of November
year 63.
Bill lies smoking.
Framed Lee Oswald,
the patsy, then
taken him out.
Bill sighs out smoke:
Warren report
a ****** whitewash.
Cover up their
collective ***
Bill was young then,
a young green horn.
Then came black ops:
Other places,
other people.
Those arranged deaths,
those “suicides”,
set up protests
in foreign fields,
regime changes.
Bill recalls now
that **** agent
in East Berlin.
Held her down firm
in the washhouse.
That spy in Rome
who had a fall
Bill had arranged.
Time past time gone.
Bill watches smoke
Grey white twisting
on the ceiling.
Long ago now.
Little conscience;
Little feeling.
Jan 24, 2017
Jan 24, 2017 at 8:35 AM UTC