#staff
Having dispatched the sound rabble
with mostly love,
our already flaccid balloon
deflates with a final raspberry
a fitting fanfare to a term
that left its markers marked,
the shared mirth,
across eyes and hearts,
at a **** noise
proving once again:
we are why we’re here
Dec 17, 2021
Dec 17, 2021 at 10:01 AM UTC
Today and for a few days now
I just had to look at your photos
different ones two of them
In one you wore a tie and one other from a while back and I
felt like a billionaire everywhere.
I felt a different kind of wealth
A peacefulness about it,
in places too mystical to share.
A rush of lightening quickened
my breath and happiness never
felt so real as in looking,
at your photo more for it's inner worth though your outercore
is mostly holy for me.
I love you to tears in every look
and best that midnight criptic
shadowy one I cried all night long
with this one, and in love the most.
A verse asleep in memory chip, awakened me, you love me.
your love apeace my entrails.
Beloved of God divine.
~~~
You maketh me to lie down in green pastures:you leadeth me beside the still waters.
You restoreth my soul: You leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for your name's sake.
Alhough I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear NO evil: for thou art with me;
thy ROD and thy STAFF
they comfort me.
Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over precioso.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life:
and I will dwell in
the house of you my Lord
my beloved for ever.
~~~~
By: Karijinbba
Aug 29, 2021
Aug 29, 2021 at 12:52 AM UTC
This is for us
who work with those
we love or tolerate
(hate seems a bit strong
for them we’re forced among,
it’s not like we’re a picnic either...)
You are mainly wonderful,
sometimes misguided,
but we’ll hide grumps
in flippant huffs
because we know the pull
is mostly in the same direction
But know we miss the scrum,
the ****** staff room air,
hurried tea and coffee
and meaningful cake
Daily, we take time to thank you
as we grapple this stupidity
that dwarfs all sense
The dinner table desk
is a lonely place
May 1, 2020
May 1, 2020 at 2:48 PM UTC
it seeps
under my fingernails into skin
doused in clean! the filth is killed!
then I spit at it.
Demands:
caress my brow in a palm, any warm pocket of flesh
a grandmother’s *****
the spine of a leaf
my dog’s velvet-soft triangle-shaped ear
anything that will let my grief get some rest
sorrow is heavy trash bag to haul
find me a bellhop or a sidewalk construction man
something with biceps and a hardened face. someone who can clean **** up.
please,
sweep
these shards could maim a bystander
why force one to bleed such an unnecessary truth
wouldn't want to wreck these shiny floors
better to keep it hid, better tighten my lips around it
I mean,
how do -you- feel under these fluorescent lights?
who is studying who?
I understand now my circus of an existence was born
in a tight space
between the exhausted description of my histories
-the official ones- and
these secrets,
the juicy stuff
encrypted in me
Jan 4, 2019
Jan 4, 2019 at 9:55 PM UTC
Working 9 to 5
The constant rumble of the fans above my head,
That cool me down, so I don't feel too tired.
The crashing bangs, of heavy metal things,
As the machines continue to work,
To produce metal sheets.
The thunderous press machine,
Thumps another piece of metal,
As the production line keeps moving,
Full of different people.
Each of them standing, in their own specific spot;
Capable of breaking the chain,
If one of them is gone.
So just hang your metal onto the track;
The thing that made me quit before, but I came back.
And now here I am, stronger and wiser,
Better than before;
Now they've offered me the job full time.
But I know, I can do better than this,
For I wish to be a poet, an author and a lyricist.
I just keep looking at the clock,
Waiting for another minute to pass.
Damn! I'm sure it's stopped;
I've surely been here longer than that.
No; it's just because,
I'm not using my head
And thinking to make time pass quicker
And not just waiting for it to be 10.
At last! It's here, we all give a silent cheer,
Or a sigh of relief, that the day is done.
At last, now we can all go home.
(C)2013 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
May 3, 2018
May 3, 2018 at 4:52 AM UTC
The world turns on a Shepard’s staff.
He, of whom the Shepard is, is a guide through the treachery and trickiness of the thick weeds.
The foothills have been passed and the plains of this earth is now the marked destination to rest. We eat there. Beware
the wolves
The sheep have been calm this journey, and it’s lax for the collie, our animal ally.
He is prepared at a beckoning and that is all that is required for herds safety. He comes and goes throughout the brush to scout and prepare reconnaissance. Again, a ally.
The sun moves slowly and eventually rests past the horizon. Twilight and on a clear night, spreckels of stardust show their face over the herd and friendlies. The wolves do not bother the fire tonight.
We rest with a relative ease.
We wake and begin the day.
Apr 7, 2018
Apr 7, 2018 at 6:53 PM UTC
A business is known by all the resources it deploys
how it treats its customers with the staff it employs.
___________________
Nov 30, 2017
Nov 30, 2017 at 7:43 PM UTC
My God has laws never ment to be breached
He loves to use tragedy to teach
He staff is always ready and in reach
You may think demons get to freely play
But he shows them the very way
He lets them use hurtful words to get us to sway
It's all just a ploy, to make us run
He leaves us under the gun
God just smiles, he's having fun
For when all is said and done
It will be to him we run
May 18, 2016
May 18, 2016 at 11:20 AM UTC
I hid in the work shed
when I heard the male matron
calling my name
(the big ****
I had a class jar
filled with earth
and black ants
and watched them
make tunnels
and **** any who
were odd ones
or stragglers
and he called out my name
Benedict where are you?
I kept silence
stifling the urge to laugh
until he'd gone
then I sneaked out
and went a different way
and after an hour or so
he'd say
where have you been
I've been looking for you
everywhere?
and I said
o I was in such
and such a place
and he raised his
bushy eyebrows
like waking up
sleeping caterpillars
and said
but I looked there
and I said
o must have just
left then
and once
in the staff room
having morning
or afternoon tea
I'd have a copy
of Ezra Pound's Pisan Cantos
open and read
to myself
while others
(women) chatted
about this and that
like o that Mrs Biggins
she went a wet my shoes
or that Mr Gubbin
went and touched
my backside
as I went past
and I thought
how hard up does one
have to be
to do that
I mean her backside
of all backsides
although Mrs Bee
had a nice one
I guessed
imagining waking up
to it most mornings
like her husband
must have done
and Win said
where have you
been hiding out
that twat's been
looking for you?
has he?
I said
well there's a thing
then I put away
the Ezra book
as the bell
(on the wall)
began to ring.
Feb 3, 2016
Feb 3, 2016 at 3:41 AM UTC
Rhythm the knife
hacks eternity into Meter,
sharpens Itself into Phrase.
Our Song of the Severed Soul.
One wide-open
mouth sings the bewildering
majesty of Silence.
Signal drowning in the noise.
A ****** of Shrewd
crows peck out the eyes
of an out-of-tune reality.
This Geometry of eclipsed lines.
Free from the bonds
of Melody, liberated
from the Staff, awakened.
My Song the Quiet of Forests
Interstices where no discord
mars the naked Truth,
nor dulls the timbres of Self.
Here shall I shout my ineffable Gladness.
Where the ear of no listener
may its fairness tickle,
nor its Word turn astray.
*The winds of my Flute
blow sweetest.*
Dec 10, 2014
Dec 10, 2014 at 3:26 PM UTC