"bonuses" poems
Access to excess
holds you tight
in its vice.
It starts off
it always feels so right
filled with promise and abundance
walking into that casino
loaded with cash
scoring the bag at Christine's
weekly motel
one more dab will do you.
She knocks on your door
and only wants you
the night is filled with promises too.
Is this any different
then gluttonous
billionaires hoarding what they can
it's never enough
while the rest of us drown.
The waiting, waiting, waiting
for it to come through
there's that too.
Access to excess
has this advice:
"I'll deal with it later"
and
"One more time. "
Drip, drip, drip
blood
triggered rush
images and cravings
euphoric memories
kaleidoscope
in
one body rush
after another
until there is no more living
in
your own skin.
Rubbing your self raw
to get back to that moment
when you first walked in
when abundance
was real
and
access to excess
was all you could feel.
What a moment of exhilaration.
Of course there are these bonuses too
ending up
with total deprivation
"incomprehensible
demoralization"
Locked in a porta-potty
with a guy and a pipe
out of money
out of time
out of consciousness
Access to excess
what are we gonna do
now.
Jun 24, 2014
Jun 24, 2014 at 9:39 AM UTC
Misty Morning, tunnel exit
Radio blaring. Yet more Brexit
Shipyards looming in the mist
Coffee. Top of this checklist
Distantly spied, Golden Arches glisten
Dumbly calling those who listen
Desperate homeless huddled outside
Callous addiction stealing his pride
Inside the feckless locals gather
Of nameless baby dads they caw & blather
No sign of insight, syns nor points
Weight of burgers on their joints
Red-eyed middle management jostle for WiFi
Ketchup spilt upon his tie
Spreadsheets, targets, bonuses forgotten
Awareness at last. This lunch is rotten
Light bursting inside his head
Realising how easily he's been led
A new day. A Golden New Dawn
A middle-management minion reborn
Now with joy. Now with flourish
New skills, his mind does nourish
Never Stop. Ignore what they say
And make this day. Make this day. Make this the day.
Apr 16, 2019
Apr 16, 2019 at 6:40 AM UTC
Chaotic systems
Disabled stems
Controlled streams
Dash in seams
Work ain't progress
It's a misused regress
Full of regrets
The greatest dissolution
No vision, just revisions
The mission of bureaucracy
Hypocrisy and autocratic casts
Top cats bumper weighty bonuses
Outclassed in beer bellies
Slashed in pompous waistcoats
*What a waste on the coast?
**I am not afraid to tell you, "I ain't a ******* robot"**
I am not a machine of production and rotations
**I am not afraid to tell you, "Go **** your *****
Give me time to be creative, innovative and autonomous
Chaotic systems
Disabled stems
Controlled streams
Dash in seams
Be an example, model the sample
Let the leader lead the leaders
Let the leader be the servant
An active weaver of the basket
To hold with the strongest straws
In rows and crows, clinging to all
A negotiator of the common people
A facilitator in times of conflict
Let the worker be dedicated
Passionate, triumphant and trial-led
But the case is, all are in it for the money
I am not afraid to tell capitalists, "Give workers their rights"
**I am not a ******* charity mate! Share the faked matte!**
**I am not afraid to tell you, "Stick it up on your ***
Give me time to be creative, innovative and autonomous
Sep 1, 2016
Sep 1, 2016 at 4:16 AM UTC
Am I selling my soul to the corporate world
in a vain pursuit of future financial stability?
Should I have bought my future with what little I had
and spent it growing my skills in music and writing
so that I could know they were not wasted?
Should I give up on this new work-from-home desk job
where I'm paid commission and weekly bonuses
and won't see the residual income from renewals for thirteen months?
Can't I have something stable that doesn't bore me to death,
and something exciting that doesn't turn my anxiety to an 11?
I've never had a balance--every job has been one or the other.
And yet, as I yearn for a career in music, I recall my past
where I majored in songwriting and couldn't handle college
and I sigh and realize that jumping to a music job wouldn't "fix" me.
No matter what I'm doing, I will need to have perseverance,
and patience, yes, but also motivation and drive to improve myself.
These struggles that I face now at this job are the same ones
that I've always struggled with--they're part of me still.
And I've always blamed the job for not being a good fit--
and some of them weren't, true--but that wasn't the root of it.
A job that is worth doing
will take effort and drive
and no worthy income
comes by barely getting by
and doing the bare minimum
in order to escape a scolding.
I need to change my mindset
in order to grow above this--
this swamp of complacency,
this mire of despondent weakness,
this misty swath of ambiguous feelings
that have dictated my actions
for far too long. No.
I'll sit and get to work
knowing that I am securing a future
for myself, my husband, and family
and that one day, I will have time
to create art in any way I want
but right now, I have a lesson to learn
about working hard
and rising to the challenge.
Don't let me forget.
I can't look back now.
Up I go, to new heights
where the fearful me
thought the risks were too great.
Up I go, to climb my mountain
and win this battle, and the next,
until I'm out of the doldrums
and onto the path that advances before me.
Here goes.
May 18, 2021
May 18, 2021 at 3:37 PM UTC
Ice Tinkles in Cocktail Glasses,
At a Washington Hotel Lobby
A Senator Brags about his Hobby
It costs a lot of Upkeep to Maintain
Racing Stock, Ah but Bridled & Reined
Its Worth It, says the Chair of the FDA
Committee Over Sight to the Rep From
The Pharmaceuticals Association
As they Head to the Corner to whisper
The Engineer At Major Automotive
Tells them what he Sees for new Parts
They are off tolerance But in the Chart
It Shows only 3% Fatality, and It saves cash
After the Discussion to table it for Now
They break out the Bonuses for saving Money
Dark Souls Cast Dark Shadows in Life
With No Respect For Honesty or Right
Can't they see in a Flash, they fly into the Abyss
For all their Money..... On a Carpet of Cash
Feb 11, 2015
Feb 11, 2015 at 6:33 PM UTC
Gusto affairs spiraled to marooned stairs!!
Amphibious angel,
Where art thou own wings?
Apparent your sanctioning is,
Appointee of marital status!!!
Anthropologist of creations new madness,
Armful arousist!!
Arrogant aspirant!!!!
We are all baggage carriers of used goods,
Bestowed to thy own selves thou ******** of crud!!!!!
Very few bonuses this time around,
For the metropolis hath gone broke and choked!!!
For oil runneth this deliveranth!!!
Bind thy own,
You biggot of brigaded quarters!!!
None to coincide with ,
No cognac love to filleth me with cocoa nestled swifts!!!
Engrossment of shufflers, greasers to seventies sneakers,
Esteemed of high retailer goods!!!
Distinction between euphemisms blame!!!
Highed tops to spindle games,
Atrocious calibrations!!!!
Such tiredness flees the crime felt page,
Who's enraged?
Refute novelties of javahouse breaks,
Wherein assemblers are all members of cafe corner states!!!!
Paxilheads to axlehead drinkers,
Some material like,
Some medicinal thinkers!!!
How much shalt one taketh before his psyche leaves reclusiveness all behind the robust tower!!!!
May 17, 2015
May 17, 2015 at 6:28 PM UTC
I wonder what this world is coming to
When we have to overcomplicate everything
All I hear on the TV of late
Is ‘bare craic’ as my northern Irish friend would say –
“I can’t understand this credit crunch,” she said
Poignantly, (neither could I) “I think I’ll take
A dander down to the shops.” And so she did
We were out of milk
And living off salami
I picked up the paper
And I realise nothing is without a price
Or a fate
They are the two certainties
So is death
And the price is not so hard to see either.
The American bigwigs sit round a table
Complaining what is to be done about the financial crisis?
Each eating a $16 dollar muffin with their $8.48 coffee
Wondering where oh where can money be saved?
And they’ll get back in their private limos
Drive past their second addresses
Back down to Bel-air
Lock themselves in their villas
Count their bonuses
And sleep happy
After doing jack ****
While Greece is going down the crapper.
I can see the solution
Can you?
Or is it just me?
Or can you see it to?
Nov 11, 2011
Nov 11, 2011 at 3:06 PM UTC
Unlike you,I
have a real job, he says,
Insinuating,
That the 1331 diapers changed,
The bleary eyed 2:00am feeds,
The mountains of laundry washed and folded
Are of course,
Imaginary.
Oh no, it’s not a “real “ job or a job at all ,
to raise a child,
No perks for working weekends,
Or cards sporting fancy titles,
Or performance bonuses,
For ***** training
Oh no, not at all,
But I’d like the remind you,
Civilization was not not not built
By men in suits, but,
By generations of mothers
Taming Neanderthal toddlers
Jan 17, 2014
Jan 17, 2014 at 10:12 AM UTC
As excited to return as he was to leave
Bright eyes such bright eyes
He senses my pain
We enter...
....
He skips to his drink
Downs it in one
Plods off to corner
Flops down in the cool shade
Raising a quizzical eyebrow
Then doses off with a contented sigh
....
Click, click of the mouse
The key to the asylum gate turns
The inmates scream out beyond my screen
Some live in heaven others in hell
Perversely I sit here
Omnipresent
My fingers jabbing at the keyboard
Harvesting the daily cruelties of mankind
Kind of "men"
I'm sick
At least sickened
I SEE WAR
LOTS OF HIDEOUS WAR
TWISTED CORPSES
INSANITY
GRIEF
I see twisted politicians pretending to care
Banks rubbing their hands with glee
Arms manufacturers celebrating bonuses
I see death equals money for some
Lots of death = Lots of money
Kids shelled on a beach, hospitals destroyed
"well they use human shields"
So that must mean those humans are worthless?
I see a death toll of 1400...and RISING!
I see no God
I see genocide
Clicking and typing just makes it worse
Calling each other "dogs" a repeated curse
Dogs!
Dehumanizing the enemy
For the purpose of easy slaughter.
The devoted mother and father
The innocent son and daughter
Where is this God?
Either/ any version will do
Or is it all about NOTHING!
Nothing but ********** and greed.
Click, click...
ISIS
When will humanity wake up
Aug 1, 2014
Aug 1, 2014 at 6:21 PM UTC
The Daily Prayer The Daily Prayer
AUG 2010 OCT 2017
Be forever young 'n humble; seven yearlings of plenty famine;
Feel ancient and royal; youthful graybeard commoner now,
Ride tall in the saddle; old hoary, crooked headed ancien
Do something nifty; content to just, just walk crookedly
Take someone's hand if they permit, for hands gnarled,
Unexpectedly: roughened and time toughened,
Drive home in the slow lane; only the city bus, now bows, kneels,
Do the de minims; how has the minimalist become
Do the de maximis; the max, the best old-dog-in-show?
Leave a book on a park bench; forgetfulness, unintended bonuses,
Use pen n paper, write a letter; the fingers shaky press cell button,
Take a chance, make people laugh; your appearance quite the joke,
Barrel into contention; a barrel casket, half your wardrobe
Show mercy to the confused, no arrogance, have mercy upon poets,
Show anger to the abusers. for they fear voices calling out, account!
Bless a child with both hands; now take their blessings returned
Grasp your soul; throw it down, others sidle, it's our time, now,
Then raise a child to the sky. to raise you up father of fathers
Straight up, straighten your time bents, curves,
Build a continuum, honor thy work ever continuing
You and they, *we, and you, we are all your steps,
on a ladder of each poem, to guide us heavenward*
***each poem a prayer, each prayer a poem, passing back, coming forth in the crests upon the beach and bay you so loved, the moon and sun both shine simultaneously while it rains straight,
all come, each to recite,
even the One with whom you vociferous argued, unrepentantly,
all here, together placing that weighty last period at the end of
your daily prayer.***
Oct 15, 2017
Oct 15, 2017 at 8:43 AM UTC
Then they will come to the fruit trees and this work will be a combination of demons and scientists. He is a car, he is a music player, at the volleyball level in the light of the fire of Pope-John and the ability to know the air off the work. First of all, my eyes' personal stress. The best man: The World Peace Center, which left the world, can be seen in the eyes of women; Women have the ability to eliminate bonus bonuses such as wind roads, true lights and colors of different colors. This service is chocolate chocolate chocolate, first, my eyes. If you want fruit, the scientists and animals can not answer the office. Due to the heat of the car the Pope was transferred to play volleyball for couples. At first the question of my eyes, my body, "perfect" and the World's World will be held in front of women. Finally, women are able to find their favorite colors, the exact light, the colors and the shadows. "You do not have to go to the Stadium Sema, Debate Drugs, ads Knows The Greatest History of the World." Licensee License. In addition, the fruit trees are called scientists and the Pope wants to work to reduce moods, as it consumes volleyball and firearms. At first, my eyes, personalities, social societies, and global peace talks, my eyes and the women on the ground, smashed the skin of the women's colored skin's brightness, their skin colored they want to exhaust. This describes a homework job. It's fire, rhino and experience that led to the 'Pl' joke of Joan of Arc to volleyball's Funeral service. Every time and every other time. The best people in the world look at the ground in the room and then look at the women. Women have beautiful colors and can remove spirits, real colors and candles. Here's the chocolate for me.
Then they will come to the fruit trees and this work will be a combination of demons and scientists. He is a car, he is a music player at the volleyball level, in the light of the fire, Pope-John and the ability to know the air of the work. First of all, my eyes' personal, stress' The best man: The World Peace Center, which left the world, can be seen in the eyes of women; Women have the ability to eliminate bonus bonuses such as wind roads, true lights, colors of different colors. This service is chocolate chocolate, first of all, my eyes ...
Nov 6, 2018
Nov 6, 2018 at 8:34 PM UTC
He gazed at me with his rheumy eyes,
‘You think that you’re getting old!
You’ll not go travel that lonely valley
Until your bones are cold.’
His voice was like the sound of a rasp
Bubbling up through his chest,
And his claw-like hands reached out for mine
As I backed away from his desk.
‘I see that you won’t come close to me
And I can’t blame you for that,
This body holds a corrupted soul
That’s caught, like a drowning rat.
I tasted sin ‘til I’d had my fill
When I once was young, like you,
I’m twice as old as you think I am
At a hundred and twenty two.’
I took a further step from his desk
And I let his words sink in,
I’d known that he was a billionaire
But not that he’d tasted sin.
‘They told me you had the answers, you
Could steer me to great success!’
‘I could, but given your chances, you
Should probably aim for less.’
‘I aimed as high as I thought I could
But life only gave me gruel,
I wanted to rise as high as the rest
But the lack of success was cruel,
They passed me by for promotion while
The idiots by me flew,
I watched them counting their bonuses
While the ones that I got were few.’
‘So envy lies at the heart of it,
You think it’s better with wealth,
You only can spend a part of it
What you really need is health,
Your cheeks are ruddy, your eyes are bright
You can walk in the winter rain,
While I sit crippled with untold wealth
In a body that’s racked with pain.’
‘But you’ve been able to buy the best
In a long and a fruitful life,
While I’ve been able to give much less
At home, to my loving wife.’
‘At least your woman has stayed by you,
She hasn’t been fired by greed,
She’s more content than the wives I knew
Who wanted more than they need.’
‘I don’t have even a single friend,’
He said, with a misty eye,
‘But plenty of greedy hangers-on
Who are waiting for me to die.
I wasn’t warned when I signed the form
In blood, that the heart grows cold,
That even the love of my children then
Could only be bought with gold.’
He shuffled the papers on his desk
And pushed one across to me,
‘Just sign on the bottom line in blood
And you’ll have everything you see.’
I looked at his ancient, withered form,
At the lines in his face of woe,
Thought of my wife and children, then:
‘I think I’d better just go!’
David Lewis Paget
Sep 29, 2013
Sep 29, 2013 at 5:52 AM UTC
We're all sick
just trying to find some medicine
and it comes in all forms
and they are all demons
drink
smoke
pills
powder
*****
violence
pain
God,
if you buy into that sort of jargon
I think God left us
about the time we started talking about profit margins
and gains and losses
and bonuses
and bail outs
but we take these drugs
in an attempt to get high enough
to catch a solitary glimpse of heaven
before we plunge back into hell
The devil,
He's laughing
because he knows we won't escape
we've been given up to damnation
and that's **** fine with me
let the world burn
the people massacred
and all the while
I'll stand on the brink
of the end of all things
laughing
because the only thing I truly know
is that the only way to survive hell
is to out devil the devils
So you go on complaining
and the world will go on not listening
because the world doesn't understand ********
only brute force and steel
Jul 27, 2013
Jul 27, 2013 at 7:34 PM UTC
That's some super **** man
well just ask yourself where have the hippies gone?
that's some **** in it's self
and a bit far out
that might be **** beyond even me
and no
we see them about
the hippies are now all bank managers
see them smoking there drugs and talking **** words
and still getting bonuses them agents OF S. H. I. T.
Aug 16, 2014
Aug 16, 2014 at 6:00 PM UTC
The season
It’s here
The parents are busy
While the children are care free
We plan and come together
Parties and dinners
Presents and thanks
The season
It’s meant to be happy
The parents can’t pay rent
While the children don’t have a winter coat
We take up side jobs and sacrifice sleep
Long nights and long days
Heat bills and cheap bonuses
The season
I’m happy it’s here
My parents say it’ll be small
While my sister and I say we don’t mind
There’s food on the table and wood in the fire
Teasing and inside jokes
Long talks and secret sharing
The season
It’s for family
Dec 22, 2012
Dec 22, 2012 at 10:02 PM UTC
I got in to a bit of a rant today, with my brother.
Politics are *******
They do nothing at all.
For the people that need it.
Weather big or small.
We all need money.
Thats what they always say.
Pay this, pay that.
And look forward to Christmas Day.
What if people can not afford this.
What of there day.
Politics forgets them.
And moves on its way.
And what of banks.
Bonuses they pay.
To the one, whom has ****** up.
So he goes on holiday.
Maybe.
I might be wrong.
But what the **** is money.
And do we need it?
Seems to me.
whatever race, ethnicity.
We all are the same.
We all need love.
Dec 21, 2011
Dec 21, 2011 at 11:27 AM UTC
I have aged,
Nearer to the ledge,
Remaining years are bonuses,
No more onuses.
I am grateful,
Life is more peaceful.
My hearing loss,
Is God's Gift of a rose,
My hearing aid I pretend not to wear,
Shrug off, like I don't care.
When I want,I tune out the family,
And be happy,
I frustrate people sometimes,
To repeat themselves many times.
About me what they feel,
Has made me almost change my will.
I now walk with the aid of a walker,
They made me wear a pamper,
In a way good,
No more frequent trips to the loo.
No more errands,or picking kids from school,
Put your legs on a stool,
Watch T.V or doze off.
May 22, 2018
May 22, 2018 at 4:20 AM UTC
Just lay here next to me
Holding my hand.
I don't care about the kiss or the ***
They're just bonuses
In the package that is you.
Your arm wrapped around me
Holding me tight;
The best feeling in the world.
Whisper your honey dipped words
As we lay here through the night.
The gentle feel of your lips against mine
Add to the magic that is you.
Don't leave without saying goodbye;
The warmth of you hug
Will keep me safe while your gone.
The spikey feel as my hands rub your head
Drawing little shapes on your back.
A days worth of stubble
Tickles my face
As we lay cheek to cheek.
Don't say farewell,
Don't turn off the light,
Not until we've had our goodnight kiss.
Make sure smiles consume our faces,
Otherwise, it wasn't time well spent.
Goodnight, my darling, goodnight.
Sleep well till morning's light.
Until we see each other once more,
Take care and sweet dreams.
Tomorrow's almost here.
Sep 26, 2014
Sep 26, 2014 at 12:20 AM UTC
What is a person supposed to do ?
Hold up a sign that says "Will work for food"?
Tommy might've been a lost young man,
but i Never thought I'd see him holding out his hands
Back when we used to hunt for spots to skate
We had more guts than all the rest of "crazy eights "
Then a man came to the school one day
Tommy wasn't a fool, but he didn't make "A"s
And when the man started to talk and say
Things about "sign on bonuses" and good pay
Tommy thought about his mama, and then about his grades
The little brother his daddy left, and how Tommy might escape
So he signed his name
on the dotted line,
and left after graduation day
The family held pictures and spoke words of such praise
For the "sacrifices" and "honor" that their boy Tommy made
But when I turn the corner, first snow that Winter day,
And saw my old friend there hudled down on marketplace,
I didn't quite recognize him right away
Then I saw the marks of a veteran written on his face
A man who was once the boy when we'd run and play
Now held his hands out as strangers looked away
( still, the most
courageous friend of mine
to date )
We talked about our mamas, and very little about the rest
He asked if I still skateboard, I said "Getting too old for that"
And we both agreed
On how different things would be
If Tommy. Hadn't lost
His leg
Dec 28, 2017
Dec 28, 2017 at 4:13 PM UTC
Really need your votes
my ideas.
Let's build a wall around fat cats and all banks
and see if we can stop all the bonuses.
Let's make the year 13 months
in my case that would make me
5.1 years younger this year.
Let's make passports
at least three feet tall
try and get that in, your ****** wallet
that should stop people traveling.
And all I need from you
is your vote in my hand.
Let's, Let's me know your vote.
P@ul the Surrealist PARty.
Oh! The new party color
let's make that Aqua for people.
Come on people vote
Feb 20, 2017
Feb 20, 2017 at 12:56 AM UTC
Listen, by now, we know the line.
It's infamous when stated.
But spoken to be their truth.
When theft happens it makes stores go up on items.
Yes, really.
This the stories we must buy as these folks alibi.
Pay raises also the next fabricated truth.
Yes, really.
Not that many high price executives keep getting bonuses that lower level richly earned.
Another known spin is the rise in fuel.
If instantly there's a foreign crisis dealing with oil.
We know the various stories to come.
And quick.
Gasoline with be rising next.
Like we don't know it goes up in summer and might be lower in the winter.
Totally, then what you expect?
This we know of a version of the reported truth to us.
Oh, there are more.
Aug 30, 2018
Aug 30, 2018 at 1:44 PM UTC
The Daily Prayer The Daily Prayer
AUG 2010 OCT 2017
Be forever young 'n humble; seven yearlings of plenty famine;
Feel ancient and royal; youthful graybeard commoner now,
Ride tall in the saddle; old hoary, crooked headed ancien
Do something nifty; content to just, just walk crookedly
Take someone's hand if they permit, for hands gnarled,
Unexpectedly: roughened and time toughened,
Drive home in the slow lane; only the city bus, now bows, kneels,
Do the de minims; how has the minimalist become
Do the de maximis; the max, the best old-dog-in-show?
Leave a book on a park bench; forgetfulness, unintended bonuses,
Use pen n paper, write a letter; the fingers shaky press cell button,
Take a chance, make people laugh; your appearance quite the joke,
Barrel into contention; a barrel casket, half your wardrobe
Show mercy to the confused, no arrogance, have mercy upon poets,
Show anger to the abusers. for they fear voices calling out, account!
Bless a child with both hands; now take their blessings returned
Grasp your soul; throw it down, others sidle, it's our time, now,
Then raise a child to the sky. to raise you up father of fathers
Straight up, straighten your time bents, curves,
Build a continuum, honor thy work ever continuing
You and they, *we, and you, we are all your steps,
on a ladder of each poem, to guide us heavenward*
**each poem a prayer, each prayer a poem, passing back, coming forth in the crests upon the beach and bay you so loved, the moon and sun both shine simultaneously while it rains straight,
all come, each to recite,
even the One with whom you vociferous argued, unrepentantly,
all here, together placing that weighty last period at the end of
your daily prayer.**
Nov 11, 2024
Nov 11, 2024 at 8:33 PM UTC
The Book
It’s something to put out into the world,
And maybe everyone should do it.
Well, not everyone would do it,
But at least one book is in us all.
Oh, yes,
We all have one book in us.,
Thoughts at bottom ageless,
Basic, universal,
Willing reading level
Out there
Somewhere.
All that is required is –
And there’s the catch:
Stamina, stick-to-it-ness and ready cash.
That said,
It is no guarantee of being read.
The bonuses are breakthroughs,
Insights into self and style,
Inner jokes that make you smile,
Self distance
And, God willing, fans.
Yes,
Something to put out into the world;
To dare and do with flag unfurled
At least just once.
The Book 9.22.2016
The Processes: Creative, Thinking, Meditative II;
Arlene Corwin
Sep 22, 2016
Sep 22, 2016 at 5:48 AM UTC