"applications" poems
Dear Miss ********,
We regret to inform you that unfortunately at this time we do not have space for you at our company.
Yours,
Xxxx xxxxxxxx
Dear Miss *******,
We regret to inform you that unfortunately at this time we cannot offer you a place with our company as you are under qualified.
Yours ** xxxxx
Dear Miss ********,
Thank you for your application. We regret to inform you that you are over-qualified for the position.
Yours, xxxxxxx ***
Dear Miss ******,
I don’t think so love. This isn’t even a letter, this is my managerial position on you handing me your cv.
Cheers, bahbye now
Dear Miss *******,
This isn’t really a letter either, but despite how un-pc this is, we can’t hire you due to your gender.
Thanks anyway, save your paper.
Dear Miss ********,
Thank you for your application, unfortunately we had stronger applicants.
Yours, etc., aaaaaa aaaaaaaaaaaaa
Dear Miss ********,
Thank you for your application. Unfortunately we are not hiring at the moment even though we had advertised the job you applied for.
Yours, xxxxxxxxx xxxxx
Dear Miss ********,
We had left it between you and another applicant, and couldn’t decide so we flipped a coin, and she won. You’re a lovely girl though.
Yours, fffffff ffff fffff
Dear Miss ********,
I refer to your claim for Jobseekers Benefit/Assistance at VVVVVV’s CCCCCC local office. Jobseekers Benefit/Assistance claims are subject to periodic review, consequently, I would appreciate if you would attend this office for interview on the 31/17/78 and bring the following :
1. Proof of Identity (i.e. Passport or Driving Licence or Long version of your Birth Certificate)
2. Proof of Residency (e.g. Letter from landlord/ Rent Book/ Lease/ Mortgage Receipt/ Letter from Parents + Household Bill)
3. Written Proof of recent job applications and replies.
4. Proof of job applications made through FAS
5. FAS courses applied for.
6. A copy of your Curriculum Vitae (CV): unemployed from
7. If your spouse/partner is an adult dependent on your claim, please bring his/her GNIB and Passport/Travel Documents.
Failure to respond to this letter may lead to suspension or disallowance of claim.
Yours sincerely,
**** *****
Local Officer
Feb 15, 2013
Feb 15, 2013 at 10:26 AM UTC
Everybody wants to be,
loved somewhere, somehow internally.
Everyone's trying with heart ,
To be so the same, or be so apart.
looking for love, in all the wrong places.
gliding through applications;
rejecting, accepting, based just on their faces.
Denying love ,
Defying love,
and simply not trying love.
but its tough to be loved in the this day and age;
because we judge people on how they look on a page.
Alas..
Everybody wants to be,
loved somewhere, somehow internally.
Jun 25, 2014
Jun 25, 2014 at 8:38 PM UTC
I have longed for this year since fourth grade
When I learned what a val-e-dic-tor-ian was
And realized I wanted to be one.
I have longed for this year since I was fifteen
And wanted to leave home
Go out and explore the bigger world
Free of parents and noisy siblings.
I have longed for this year since my first college tour
And I saw the hubbub
The libraries, the labs, the dorms, the giant sweatshirts
And noticed how small and quiet my high school was.
We picked out caps and gowns
Red
We lead the pep rallies now
The loudest yet
We're taking physics, and calculus, and the SATs
Feeling scholarly
We picked out how our names appear on our diplomas
First M. Last
We have our licenses
Drive to school
We fill out college applications endlessly
And endlessly...
We picked our prom theme
Great Gatsby
We're getting lazy very quickly
Senioritis
Graduation keeps us going
Graduation is the goal
Graduation is the light at the end of the tunnel
Graduation in June
Graduation in red polyester
Graduation in the sun
Graduation is the end
But wait.
Hold up.
Stop.
Stop.
STOP!
Seven more months with you?
You, who I've stared at for four years?
You, whose smiles make my day?
You, whose face I look for in crowds?
You, who are the most amazing person I've ever met?
You, who I haven't even asked out?
You, who have no idea who I feel?
You, who might by some miracle possibly feel the same way?
You, who I'll regret never making a move with for the rest of my life?
You?
Seven. Months.?
HOLD UP SENIOR YEAR SLOW DOWN GRADUATION THERE'S A BOY.
Nov 2, 2013
Nov 2, 2013 at 2:23 PM UTC
Here in America,
we improvise morgues
as needed.
in the cafeterias
or by the lockers,
near the ticket booths,
and at the altars.
We divvy up the dead.
Tally them
and report the number
like an answer.
13, 20, 49, 58, 6
Every death count
a timely national shock.
Almost as if
our well-televised
monthly tragedy
was ever anything less
than a game of roulette.
anything less than a matter of time
and time and time again.
Covering them each
with our bed sheets,
we try and stifle it.
Do our best to
staunch the the sights,
the noises,
(“just like chairs falling”)
the names
that keep bleeding out
onto our thoughts
and tongues,
Far too much and
too often
not to choke on.
Here in America,
we’ve learned that
horror is level-headed.
It is debatable.
It is pangless.
It seeps, deep to the core,
perverting with a silent smile.
the steady, feverish dread
weaving itself into the mundane.
the “god help us”
annulled by the
“respectfully disagreed”
the nightmare that lies
always just underneath,
and just out of mind,
Until it insinuates itself
Again and again...
Here, in America
We line the bodies,
death slumped, and
bled out on the pavement.
We arrange them-
Side by side.
Most are missing things-
a hat, a piece of face.
one shoe, a dulled pencil
(fill in C)
phones
buzzing on the ground
lit up with unread messages
(“Please call me”)
They are missing-
an upcoming
7th birthday party,
(Star Wars themed)
They are missing-
their vacations.
their first dates.
their college applications.
job interviews.
kids.
fiancées.
Lined up lifeless,
they are missing
far too many things
to gather.
Apr 1, 2019
Apr 1, 2019 at 3:14 PM UTC
I used to feel ashamed to be put in the category of:
Illegal, immigrant, undocumented,
Or simply not a U.S Citizen
I’ve been oppressed and rejected from:
Jobs, schools and programs,
Because I’m not a red-blooded American
But through God I learned that I should
Be proud of who I am and what country I come from
And that makes me free
Because I still have choices
I still have options
As long as I try, I can smile
As long as I have God
My life is worthwhile
Because I’m His child
I can’t contain myself any more
I’m tired of being broke and poor
I’m going to get that full ride
Into a 4 year college
I’m going to get that steady job security with:
A steady paycheck, that’s re-locatable and it’s fun
I’m tired of lying, hiding, and scamming
To get into organizations, staffing agencies and jobs
That would help my life be healthier
I dislike the fact that you have to
Get married to get a green card
I hate using a fake social security number
Or tax ID on applications that ask for it
I don’t like making up excuses about
Why I don’t qualify for financial aid or unemployment
But I’m going to man up and keep moving forward
It doesn’t matter how much:
Pain, anxiety, frustration, bad attitudes,
Disappointment, confusion, heart break
Or put downs I get in life
I’ll keep fighting the good fight with all my heart
And I’m going to be honest even if hurts me
Because I still have choices
I still have options
As long as I try, I can smile
As long as I have my God,
My life is worthwhile
Because I am His child
By Shannon Pollard
© December 2012
Mar 21, 2013
Mar 21, 2013 at 9:57 PM UTC
I’d worked late the previous night,
programing applications.
When the alarm went off at four A.M.
I hit snooze- no hesitation.
Eventually my feet found floor,
I stumbled to the shower.
A routine usually done in ten
took me a half an hour.
I was running up the platform steps
but my train just left the station.
Great, I will be late for sure,
I thought, in consternation.
At least the day was perfect,
Warm and clear, no threat of rain.
I fished and found my ticket
and took the next westbound train.
The ”E” was fairly crowded
When I boarded it at Penn
I’d missed the first and I was glad
Another quickly came.
Beneath the streets of Gotham
The subway lurched downtown.
Above all hell was breaking loose
as two large planes were down.
I climbed the stairs up to the street
And entered the inferno
The sky now black from billowing smoke
Bright day turning nocturnal.
A Seven thirty Seven’s wheel-
I heard a woman screaming
I saw a body at my feet
Were we at war or was I dreaming?
I stared up at my window-
where I worked the night before.
Where flames and smoke leapt to the sky-
where my co workers were no more.
They’re jumping, someone shouted
I saw black specks launch from on high.
Better to die upon the street
Than to suffocate or fry.
I turn and ran, I am ashamed.
No Hero’s tale to tell.
I was a safe way away
when the first tower fell.
Had I not hit the button
or dawdled in the shower.
Had I caught my usual train
I’d be dead in the tower.
This is my shame and burden
To live when others died.
Preserved by fate and circumstance
From terror from the sky.
Jan 27, 2012
Jan 27, 2012 at 11:04 PM UTC
I feel like I have the right
to cuss like a sailor
because I am the descendant of one.
I can remember the stories my mother used to tell,
of the man who made perfect pancakes.
It was all I knew about him besides the other story
about their first kiss in the rain,
then she married him.
And when I braid my hair
I am Pocahontas,
because if my great-grandfather whom I've never known.
I wish I'd been there
when my family lived in Morocco or Puerto Rico,
I wish I was foreign.
Even though,
it takes forever for my mother's files to go through anything
because she is not U.S. born.
I think I just want to know what box to check
in the race section of applications.
Jan 15, 2013
Jan 15, 2013 at 9:19 PM UTC
F for the fistfights I was asked to sit out of, because I was born with a different set of genitals
E for the equal rights I've been begging for, only to be let down time and over again
M for all the military applications that weren't even reviewed, because I seemed unfit for not having a pair of nuts
I for the inferno that you made me feel, fighting so hard to be a pilot that was obviously only ' a man's job '
N for the number of convictions the guy who ***** his girlfriend didn't have to face, because the way she dressed up showed that she "wanted"it
I for all the immoral stares that I couldn't counter back for the fear of your lawyers defending you saying it was a friendly one, for the fear of you blaming the shorts and crop top that I picked out for that lovely Sunday
S for all the standards that women themselves set for themselves, ***** standards; I'll do what I want and say what I want, I'll eat what and I want and dress the way that I feel like I need to, I'll wear bikinis that probably doesn't flatter my body and height but you know what? I don't give two flying f**ks
M for the mortals that made it necessary for feminism to even exist
Apr 18, 2015
Apr 18, 2015 at 11:07 AM UTC
Rejection, Rejection,
Oh, how that I loathe thee
It seems to me that you are
NOT my cup of tea.
I have tried to fit in
And to get in on the action,
But you just keep coming in;
giving me a bad reaction.
I have applied myself
To many aspects of life,
You came in, ruined it,
And you’ve given me the strife.
From jobs, internships, applications, and auditions
for a chance to act in the theatrical productions,
to contests, competitions, sports games and tryouts
Thanks to you, I’m feeling left out.
I’ve lost the hope, I’ve lost the faith
In any aspect that I put myself into,
You, Rejection, are the cause of all of this
You’ve made me feel sad and blue.
I feel like I’m a loser
And I’ve given up the fight
You’ve kept me in the darkness
I can’t seem to see the light!
I have big dreams and goals
Wanting to be an entertainer;
You just set my dreams and goals aside.
That’s a no-brainer.
I’m depressed and lonely
And it’s all thanks to you!
Rejection, you’ve just made
My nightmares come true!
This is not what my purpose
In life’s supposed to be,
Rejection, please go away!
Please let me be!
I would hide all of my true feelings
From my relatives, colleagues, and friends,
Please stop this, Rejection!
I want it to end!
Rejection, Rejection,
I really hate you!
We’re breaking up and
going our separate ways.
I’m through with you!
Oct 17, 2014
Oct 17, 2014 at 2:52 PM UTC
I
This is the night mail crossing the Border,
Bringing the cheque and the postal order,
Letters for the rich, letters for the poor,
The shop at the corner, the girl next door.
Pulling up Beattock, a steady climb:
The gradient's against her, but she's on time.
Past cotton-grass and moorland boulder
Shovelling white steam over her shoulder,
Snorting noisily as she passes
Silent miles of wind-bent grasses.
Birds turn their heads as she approaches,
Stare from bushes at her blank-faced coaches.
Sheep-dogs cannot turn her course;
They slumber on with paws across.
In the farm she passes no one wakes,
But a jug in a bedroom gently shakes.
II
Dawn freshens, Her climb is done.
Down towards Glasgow she descends,
Towards the steam tugs yelping down a glade of cranes
Towards the fields of apparatus, the furnaces
Set on the dark plain like gigantic chessmen.
All Scotland waits for her:
In dark glens, beside pale-green lochs
Men long for news.
III
Letters of thanks, letters from banks,
Letters of joy from girl and boy,
Receipted bills and invitations
To inspect new stock or to visit relations,
And applications for situations,
And timid lovers' declarations,
And gossip, gossip from all the nations,
News circumstantial, news financial,
Letters with holiday snaps to enlarge in,
Letters with faces scrawled on the margin,
Letters from uncles, cousins, and aunts,
Letters to Scotland from the South of France,
Letters of condolence to Highlands and Lowlands
Written on paper of every hue,
The pink, the violet, the white and the blue,
The chatty, the catty, the boring, the adoring,
The cold and official and the heart's outpouring,
Clever, stupid, short and long,
The typed and the printed and the spelt all wrong.
IV
Thousands are still asleep,
Dreaming of terrifying monsters
Or of friendly tea beside the band in Cranston's or Crawford's:
Asleep in working Glasgow, asleep in well-set Edinburgh,
Asleep in granite Aberdeen,
They continue their dreams,
But shall wake soon and hope for letters,
And none will hear the postman's knock
Without a quickening of the heart,
For who can bear to feel himself forgotten?
4.7k
It wasnt long before the baluster flapped somewhere in the distance and Icarus knew how old he had been on the day of his birth. For whatever reason, the snow capped cappuccinos he had willfully destroyed in a heated debate on fiscal policy had him beginning again. Why was there always a beginning where there was an end? Fur traders used to circumnavigate the Hudson's Bay of his humanity when he was young, sharing drinks and fire water whiskey like it was all an H2O ready for the soul search. Sadly, many ended up in Hitlers concentration camps weeks after the **** invasion of Poland, about a month or so before the fall of the Roman Empire. Beginning with a last breath, Icarus strode off the plank with a new-found confidence unnatural in his niceties of long past. It was as if 1 minute and 35 seconds was enough to dish a clamouring populace onto the dinner table before the fat step-father gleefully orders
everyone to 'dig in, everyone!'
Cancelling everyone's appointment with Dr. Pardon meant the gaining of a key participatory certificate in El Dorado, and the gold lingering in dusty sun-beams was sifted for the taking. Some got rich, the rest got miserable. The rest used to imagine the gold, staring at ivory towers and lottery tickets, apple cores lording over old public servant applications near the city hall drain pipes as the modern world collapsed into a flash-mob image of Ronald Reagan.
Icarus was a sliver of duskish light flittering a top distant windowsills, all cupped in an intentional light because happiness was as possible as sadness. Not that considering either would make you either.
Icarus slept as his wings incinerated at the first glimpse of the solar system. He now believed every single proverb the old ***** slumbers had whispered their children as they woke to find themselves adults.
In the beginning he found the beginning beginning again. It made him feel however you wish. Both were just as possible. Both were just as much a jazz configuration as a smooth and easy guitar rift.
Ahha!
Apr 1, 2013
Apr 1, 2013 at 5:31 PM UTC
Such is my next exam on Saturday,
Yes I mean tomorrow.
Yes, extra time I do get for writing,
Because I'm partially disabled.
But even in extra time I barely manage it.
OFF TO STUDY
Dec 17, 2015
Dec 17, 2015 at 2:11 PM UTC
Silent mornings and empty beds. I cook for one.
28 day snapchat streaks, *** “lol” and ***
Walking by your mom’s house. You’ll run out that door any minute...?
New friends in class. They’re temporary and they know it.
Job applications stacked on my bed. I’ll quit within 3 months.
Getting breakfast at LP almost every morning. They’re the only ones left who know my name.
I count the days until summer ends, and with it my loneliness.
37, in case you were wondering.
Jul 18, 2018
Jul 18, 2018 at 2:24 AM UTC
Aibo Yewena!
Phela ngisakuthanda
Ngikucabanga ngize ngibone ikhanda lam'
selinezandla,
Ngibone ikhanda lam' seliyi CEO,
Mengcabanga wena Ikhanda lam' liba
uPrincipal,
Liyangiphatha. Ngizwa bethi uthatha ama
applications. Ngiyakucela phela love le CAO
engifakile ayibe successful. Angifune reject
phela le Degree yoThando lwakho ngyayfuna
Noma ngasayenzanga icourse yokuba istraight I
right neye side chick, sengiyo modifyer next
year.
Uyi status seFeleb yini? Coz I like You!
Kuthi angifanise inhliziyo yami ne DVD wena
uyi player, wa pressa u open wayifaka I CD
wathi close isadlala kamnandi wapressa u eject!
Aibo kanti unjani player?
Aibo Yewena!
Aibo Yewena uthi awungilahlekelanga njer?
Ngoba namanje inhliziyo yami isakufuna
Aibo my top deck! Namanje ngisakuhalela,
kodeke ngizokuphonela just ukbingelela noma
ngikuhayele. Aibo Yewena!
Ngisalifuna namanje leliya fosholo, phela wena
usaqala ukungibona you were digging me
Lol hhhe
Uthi Ongumnini wena ungowami
Ngiyamzonda lowathi love is a matter of
chemistry
Phela manje wena you treat me like toxic waste
Wena ngikufanisa neRadio edlala imicibilisho,
ungizwisile ubuhlungu!
Wazenza iskhothane ngami washiya inhliziyo
yami idabukile
I miss you, angisakwazi muntu usebona
ngamakhasi nje ukuthi usaPeeler
Ukube bengazi ukuthi wena ungizela nge earth
quake kuloluthando uzo zama zama, bengeke
ngiqale!
Ngicela inhliziyo yami niyinqume izandla, kuze
izoyeka ukuthanda lomuntu!
Aibo bafena lomuntu iphilisi! Somebody take
me to a doctor I've overdosed!
Ngane YeLanga, ukukbona nje could brighten
my day
Shuthi uthando lwethu beluyiGenerations,
sekuphele iytori
Aibo Yewena
Month end yami engiholela ekufeni
Ngisakuthanda namanjer
Aug 14, 2015
Aug 14, 2015 at 8:48 PM UTC
Our summer fellowships are over! We learned a lot - for instance - how summer’s a lot less fun when you’re hemmed-up, inside working. I mean, we preesh’d the clinical experience, the learning, and especially how good these fellowships will look on our med-school applications - seriously - but there were a hundred rules - aren’t rules incompatible with summer?
Hmm, Ok, let’s see, something poetic..
As the summer sun's blistering radiance waned, shadows,
muscled by sunrays to the marginal edges and corners,
gradually spread, like water - soothing, lenifying and assuaging
simmered nerves with their refreshing, canopied touch.
If sunlight scorched with heat, twilight soothed and gentled,
while varnishing, the dimming world with rainbow, event-horizons,
larger, more inventive, colorful and glorious than any mere mortal art.
Night gradually squeezed, unseen, through those vivid sunset cracks,
and refreshing night-air, drawn in by the last, escaping updrafts of heat,
rustled cooling relief to weary workers seeking the solace of evening and home.
back to unpoetic realities..
When work was finished, we’d retreat from the heat, racing up to the rooftop pool, like two happy porpoises out of school.
Whoever invented poolside food delivery, should win the Nobel Prize for ‘thank you very much.’ We wouldn’t go back to our rooms until it was dark and we’d started to prune.
Now, we’ve a month to relax before our Junior year begins. We got letters from Yale that said, “As upperclassmen..” “Upperclassmen!” We shouted as we danced in hand-holding circles, singing, “Upperclassmen, upperclassmen, upperclassmen, upperclassmen. upperclassmen.”
We’ve grown so much at Yale.
Aug 2, 2023
Aug 2, 2023 at 12:05 PM UTC
I wish to get this out in the open,
I wish to clarify something
I must confess something to those who care about my writing:
My sense of humour is... well...
If you know me in person, you know my sense of humour
or what could be errantly said
to be a sense of humour.
I draw heavily upon:
facetiousness, mythic interpretation, sarcasm, satire, excessive formality, irony, wordplay,
a somewhat predisposed tendency towards not taking most things entirely seriously
even and almost especially when I am 'supposed to',
resorting to profanity on rare occasions,
and quite simply and succinctly a ****** up world perspective*
amassed over many years of living in this society
and from living with my late, similarly minded, brutally honest alcoholic Father,
in this society, nonetheless,
who in fact was at least *quite ******* directly* responsible for my aforementioned errant sense of humour.
If you knew him, you might say that I'm a "chip off the ol' block" in some ways,
but I know I'm quite ******* deviant from it in others.
So, to those of you who simply know of my existence via this digital outlet/public-sketchpad for my new-found passion of writing down every ******* thing I think it worthwhile to ponder again later, or perhaps even share with similarly minded, or at least accepting people; I wish to convey my deepest and most sincere pity, not in that it is anything that was your doing, just in that you can't possibly know my sense of humour and tasteless applications of irony and satire, and as such; I've probably offended some people.
However, for some anomalous reason,
some of you seem to like this stuff
So I'm going to keep it up.
If you read this: thank you,
but if you did not, then **** you;
however, if you didn't initially read this but were later directed to it by me or by some other personage,
fictional or real,
or for some other reason happened across it,
I rescind the aforementioned **** you" in light of conveying my deepest and most sincere
"Thank you for putting up with my weird-ass ********
I appreciate anyone who finds any value in my works.
I also appreciate the improbable nature of anyone liking my brain-vomit.
I love creating and I love sharing my creations,
so when that all works out,
I'm ******* fit as a fiddle;
Giddy as a schoolgirl on Prozac;
Happier than a young necrophiliac who achieves his boyhood ambition of becoming coroner.
Apr 20, 2013
Apr 20, 2013 at 7:02 PM UTC
I have a life experience to share.
I don't know if you would care.
In the last unforgettable year,
I applied for FSW/Federal Skilled Worker
Immigration Program in Canada.
Unfortunately,
I've already reached the said quota.
I was denied for my dream visa.
Though I was qualified to apply,
I was refused for two simple reasons:
"No current employer and Ph.D. degree."
My self-esteem got very low,
I didn't know what to do
Because I have nothing to show
To my friends who kept asking me.
So it's time to break my silence.
I told them what happened
And they have felt sorry for me.
My wife has lost her self-confidence
But I told her to never give up
Even though I was hurting inside.
On this coming May 4, 2013,
CIC offices will accept FSW applications.
Though I've the necessary qualifications,
I don't know if I will ever apply again
Because I still have the unbearable pain.
Apr 18, 2013
Apr 18, 2013 at 12:16 PM UTC
my head is filled to the brim
with other **** i have to do
like job applications
going to class
reading ******* textbooks
dress rehearsals laundry
writing papers that won't make any sense
drinking too much coffee
when all i want to do
is lay shirtless on your floor with you
and write poetry about the palms of your hands
Feb 7, 2012
Feb 7, 2012 at 10:37 PM UTC
Because-because-because it is like using crutches even when you are absolutely well and can jump around!!!
No Bluetooth compatibility with devices of other makes renders it alienated in a desert full of better devices.
Not many in-built free-to-use applications exist that can be transferred to or from friends using iPhone only.
Jun 17, 2013
Jun 17, 2013 at 6:59 AM UTC
Angry, Annoyed, and Jobless
Starting to feel hopeless wondering what it takes to make it and if I have it or if I can even find it.
Friends changing, time passing, learning the youth is not everlasting.
Face changing showing some aging starting to feel the body aching.
Looking at all the time taken. Many roads could have but should have that were never taken.
Searching for employment in a maze of internet searches and job applications.
Getting red starting to steam with the same response with different logos.
Not knowing why it's always a no go. Went to school got a couple of degrees.
One is just a mantel decoration made of cheap balsa wood and lies.
The other is great but never enough. Wanting more companies always want more.
I think education and jobs are working together.
Education is the wheelbarrow that takes all of your money
Jobs is the boot kicking you in the *** to remind you that you do not have any and that you need more.
Every time we pass go with another job interview we get a glimpse of hope but it drives off in a car or sails away in the corporate battleship.
That leaves only the dog to **** on our dreams and leaves us wondering where is our dream of lots of money and a big top hat.
Just left to feel thimble like and try to iron out the details of your life
I am tired of looking tired of getting told no. Going to do it on my ******* own.
Load up the cannon with what money, hope, and dreams I have left and shoot for the stars and hope I can reach mine and fulfill my dream and escape this monopoly game of life.
Feb 3, 2012
Feb 3, 2012 at 11:49 PM UTC
Resume: Jewel de Saex
Address: Lost somewhere up the hills.
email: [email protected]
Tel: + network not available
Summary
Hire me if: you are looking for an adventure.
Clouds, gorges, and I never disappoint, for we can cry.
Education
Bachelor, Mistress and Widower at the University of Zoya, majoring
in Life Sciences, with a minor in the applications of horseshoe magnets.
Expertise
I know them laws of attraction well +
New languages: both Silicon and Carbon-based ++
Magic, luck and fate.
Experience
For years I steered a boat
riding a rough river that
passed storms every day.
I was the rain-maker, I can
bring tears to any passing cloud
by my mere hand-gesture:
(all the dough-kneading.)
I was also the chief gardener
for Loz, whose farms at
the other end of the Earth
I visited by the switch door
in my old photo-albums each day.
Skills
Jugglery, innovative use of cutlery, reading runes, plucking prunes,
riding boats on dunes, talking by eyes, hearing by sight.
References: Not available even on request.
*NOtes:
+ Turn pages back and you always find, only one person was in love.
++ I can decipher the meanings in the lispings of cherubs and angels.
I understand the cloud and the river, as of men in any tongue.*
Mar 11, 2015
Mar 11, 2015 at 3:15 PM UTC
College applications are done
Acceptance acceptance... acceptance
Fill out forms
You're in, that's good
Recommendation letters
A b r e e z e
But oh dear.
Scholarships.
They need what now?
SS what's that Number again?
AndohmyGodifIhavetowritemyname
O N E M O R E T I M E
You have my email!
Address upon address,
didn't I just look at this?
IT DIDN'T SAVE.
Start again.
Breathe.
College will be
as the applications.
Easy?
Jan 30, 2017
Jan 30, 2017 at 6:42 PM UTC
My Brothers and Sister and Me
We all share the same genes
Though some hide it better than others.
Similarities And Differences are pronounced.
The apples don’t fall far from the tree
Though a couple of them bounced.
Apples baked into pies or
Thrown to the horses
Rotten and brown and wormy and
Delicious apple cider in the Fall.
Applesauce and apple butter and Appleton, Wisconsin
Looking for a job? Applications for them all.
Mountains, and mountains of books
Rivers, and streams of numbers
Hiking and running through canyons
Flowers and gardens and mushrooms and parks.
Shooting pheasants in the fields
Shooting stars in the dark.
Time will tell. Time will tell
Mom’s in Heaven, Dad’s in his own Hell.
Whose footsteps will you follow?
What size boots do you own?
Who most will you resemble?
When your own kids are grown.
We are laughing. We are laughing.
We are librarians and teachers
And accountants and staff and lumbermen always.
And still we all laugh.
“Thought one of you’d be a preacher.”
“Good money in that.”
Each generation’s gaps grow wider
As the trees grow taller the apples fall farther
Similarities and Differences well-defined
Still laughing. Still laughing at things
New genes swimming in the family pool
Some of the cousins can sing!!
PwL March, 2015
Mar 28, 2015
Mar 28, 2015 at 2:49 AM UTC
I am going so quickly on job applications, I have lost count how many I have applied to.
I am going way too fast in this process.
I am treating this like NASCAR.
Going 200 mph a hour a Daytona.
With one goal in mind a job.
So for once in my life I hope to slow down the process.
Nov 29, 2010
Nov 29, 2010 at 10:38 AM UTC
I face that mysterious door,
Fighting my way
Step by step
Through mounds of paperwork
And applications to where I suited.
All for that intangible future
More fresh and striking than anything here
“I will go.”
My future is manifesting itself slowly,
Inexorably and inexplicably before me.
I choose to gaze at my future as infinite opportunity,
Infinite joy spread over infinite possibilities.
As that joy becomes tangible,
It also becomes more finite.
But from where I stand
I see everything ahead.
I can finally leave
Everything I’ve been tied to
And prove to myself, “I am myself.”
(3/21/14 @xirlleelang)
May 28, 2014
May 28, 2014 at 12:43 AM UTC