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Sweet love, renew thy force! Be it not said
Thy edge should blunter be than appetite,
Which but today by feeding is allayed,
Tomorrow sharpened in his former might.
So, love, be thou, although today thou fill
Thy hungry eyes, even till they wink with fulness,
Tomorrow see again, and do not ****
The spirit of love with a perpetual dullness.
Let this sad interim like the ocean be
Which parts the shore where two contracted new
Come daily to the banks, that, when they see
Return of love, more blest may be the view;
    As call it winter, which being full of care
    Makes summer’s welcome thrice more wished, more rare.
be blunter not, be no folly still:
this is our heartland's voice.

we are not this land's tenant,
nor are we the shadows that inhabit
  light — this is out highest meed,
we go on with nobler steads.

  languorous scraps of warfare
  and a ****** of metal heed the
  clarion call of our oneness yet when
   it rains all shall rend in rust
    as how our nation
    furiously drowns yet emerges
     victorious past the renegade of hours!

  in it and from it
shall rise the true meaning
    of our blood.
our large voices mellow down
   in our guts outdoing our smallness - there is a river of
   phantasmagoria yet its
   rustle is same in its breadth in
     our deep land. o, yelp never a lie!
  
consider truthfully brutal
   affording solace:
  it is our form reshaping our body.
  it is our wills carving our flesh.
  it is the dreams that are ensanguined
     in us that forge the arms of
      our fatherland: language!
Ste Jan 2018
If your desperate for a job,
then in a call centre its always
easy to get hired.
Just talk to people on the phone and
you'd be unlucky to get fired,
no suit no references and no CV required,
no bulshit questions in the interview
they need staff and you will do,
just turn up everyday,
not too late and not too wired.

Its OK love,
you can stop your huffing
and your puffing,
dont you worry,
I'm not trying to sell you nothing,
in me you can put all your trust in.
But on any call thats cold,
thier's an idea to be sold.
Its my job to find easy meat,
keep you sweet, and transfer
you through for a stuffing.

Three hundred calls a day,
automatic dialer,
Something in your lunch box
to get a little higher,
you can get through it if your a smiler.
You'll hit your target and you'll be fine,
if your in everyday and on time,
and you can **** it if your a **** like me,
or a compulsive liar.

If thiers a hunt then I'm the hunter,
if your cuntish, then I'm cunter,
if your near the top,
then of you I'm infronter,
if your smashing it I'm twatting it,
you've got twenty five call backs,
but I've got one thats having it,
cant keep up with me
because your tongue's blunter.

I could sell a puma to a mouse,
I could sell Puma to a scouse,
I could sell Subo to a *******,
I could sell ****** to a man with no ****,
I could sell a bag of AIDS
at the methadone clinic,
and I could sell Jim Beam Famous Grouse.

I sold Bit coins to Barclays bank,
I sold my dairy to Anne Frank,
I sold a pea-shooter,
to the driver of a tank.
At a mosque I sold a pig,
I sold glow sticks,
at a black metal gig,
and I once sold cystitis
to a *****.

I sold a car to a man,
who did not drive,
sold a book to Ray Mears,
on how to survive.
I sold lessons to Tom Daley
to learn  how to dive,
Sold a man without a dog,
lessons to teach it how to behave,
I sold a razor to ZZ Top
and  persuaded them to shave,
and I sold a vegan a steak
so rare, it was still
half alive.

I sold a man a coffin,
one he'd never get in,
as he'd already donated
his body to medical science,
I sold a cave man an electrical appliance,
I sold a pair of eight thousand watt
speakers to a libary,
as a teen I sold a bag of magic beans,
but that was snide of me.
And I sold the man, to Johny Rotten
when he was the eptimone of defiance,
yea I sold that rebel compliance.

Drilling that dailer in a
cut throat environment,
psych's you up so much
things can get violent,
gotta be battle ready,
its a job requirement.
Saw a lad get phone wrapped round head,
he hit the floor and the line went dead.
We fixed that phone but he was ******,
and had to take early retirement.

Sad when that little bird is gone,
but then starts an even fitter one,
not that I ever got a grip o'one.
Such a huge turn over of staff,
I've a heart of stone
but even I had to laugh,
they cant take the heat,
so they get out the kitchen.

Ohh the joys of cold calling.
Stop complaining your job is boring,
only your benifits out
the bank you'd be drawing,
what else are you getting these days
in this nation,
with your record and reputation?
You'd have to subsidize
as a secret shopper,
or serving those that are scoring.

Our education, was at best pathetic,
all the ****** jobs are taken
by those with a higher work ethic.
they cant speak clear English,
but to thier credit,
they work hard and put in the hours,
but these call centres are ******* ours.
They've had everything else
but cold calling? haha they can forget it.

There was a manager, he was my chief
he had a week off,
to soak up the sun in Tenerife.
I thought ******* and scived for two,
had holiday of a lifetime in Elevenarife.
Got back, got grief,
asked why have I been off
when I was'nt meanter,
because I'll always go one better than you
when working in a call centre.
Yea I had self belief.

I'd turn up stinking of the *****,
my manager, for me would make lame excuse,
he knew through that day I'd cruise,
a liquid meal helps the speil.
lets hope so or both our jobs we'd lose.

To behave like that no-one aught'er,
if you'd murdered me at that time
you'd deserve a charge of manslaughter.
In pub at lunch, everyday in deep water.
look again, Ste is ******
advised to stop, but I did insist.
Did not finish top that month,
but still ******* smashed it that quarter.

In the end I quit,
I decided call centres are ****.
had enough of it.
I will not work in a
call centre again
until the day I die.
kept getting passed over for promotion
was not happy,
but reading over these words
I'm starting to understand why.
Yea at times I could be a ***.

Were all *****, us that cold call,
but I was the biggest **** of them all.
Yes I could sell a winter jacket
before the fall,
yes I could sell a nun a magazine from
the top shelf,
but most importantly of all,
I could sell my own bulshit to myself.
Ju Temo Oct 2019
I never knew the pretty sky was so indifferent
So blue and so blank
Standing there without a response.
Surrounding me as it just watches on
As my head is weighed down
As my shoulders become heavy
As my knees want to hit the ground

Nothing is working.
The problems just stack on
Its books are piling on
Insistently,
Showing me that it can.
The distribution isn’t even
Doesn’t matter.
My back not sure if it will give out
Perhaps, just waiting for the right time
To truly become another future
With a wishful past.

A hand to alleviate it wouldn’t come
A wishful thinking of a story
A movie that would get blistered by real life
I’m already getting burned under its sun
Beating on without a care
Quickly chafing off the careful wrapping
Around how it was supposed to go
Preserving the candy that shouldn’t get *****

On this day, it got exposed to the true air
It cracked under the pressure
The lines show the map of the world
In your mouth,
It’s ready to break a tooth

A lean against the wall
Trying to hold my body up
Against the weight of my thoughts
As they swirl becoming poison
Sticking to the sides of my mind
Within this tornado
The sun shines on.

The breeze flutters the leaves beautifully
Showing all the sides of its colors
It reaches my face coolly
Washing over my thoughts
Increasing the turbulence
The starker the contrasts of green and blue
The blunter the world reveals itself to be.

Not a single cloud passing by up above
Empty eyed as it looks on
Keeping cool as everything collapses
Hands restless trying to catch all falling
It’s slipping through my fingers
Too quick to grasp and hold.

To give up is an option that comes up.
A whisper infiltrating with the sweet air.
To shut my eyes
And un-focus my gaze
But I’m surrounded by multiple paths
All escapes paved with yellow flowers
Each and every pretty without promises
Petals covering every space
Not showing any holes in the ground
Until I’ve already fallen in
Wanting to turn back.

From inside the well
Or from the sidewalk
The sky looks the same
Coded with a thousand cliffs
Unable to decipher their meaning
Constantly shifting as the time comes
What seemed so stable
Becomes all blurry in a glance.

To exert a force in my arms
And hold my body up
Against this pressing weight.
I let out a breath that traveled miles
Pushing away my thoughts for now
I stand up off the rail
And try another time.

Not a single cloud passing by up above
The world remains colorfully calm
And the sun makes the leaves greener
A few seagulls fly by overhead
The challenges weigh down on my back
While the pretty sky seems bluer
Ju Temo' is a freelance poet that is inspired by songwriting. All other poems can be seen at: www.feelapoem.com
Frenchie Jan 2017
Behold -- eternal damnation
burns
towards you.
A second of comfort, hand outstretched,
cupping,
               cradling ****** constructs
your eyes remain void; fresh and yet frozen in time -

-- in space;
in memory.


The flashes, the strikes
-- the burning yearning agony;
the sharper the breath the blunter.

The penetrating throb -
the dismal brightness before you,

comforts --- cradles.
Veronika Nov 2019
it moves
like the moon: full to crescent to nothing at all;
existing all the same until the next phase

it burns
like a knife; eventually less, as the knife gets blunter,
the desire gets weaker
itsall iwrite Sep 2018
don't love you papa 05.09.18


this is no lady gaga
but it is a bad romance
living in land of lala
with devil never just dance.
i remember the derogatory
you could have been no blunter
tried your hardest to make a mockery
reporting was a poem hunter.
respect is the conclusion
i say that with no pause
now its no perfect illusion
that's why no applause.
over is strong
not at all scary
had no mail daily from ****
not going for ****** mary.
no more pinching
as lethal as a lobster
papa stay away don't be inching
you have created this monster.
sandra wyllie Aug 2019
time
was something
he had a lot of –
but not for her
it wasn’t in the cards
where do broken hearts go
when they’re faced down
in a row
blunter than a ******
he hadn’t the guts
to keep her
no one wants to hear the truth

play nice
by the rules
this is not Uno –
you can’t reverse
analyze the therapist
his ego hurt
she matched red
another one shed
he had more than what he could use
sad, sad news
now she was left with only one
but no one won
she walked away
never to see him again
everything has an end
a color
and a number
Yenson Apr 2021
chip away
with your blunt axe
and even blunter minds

— The End —