"document" poems
I lost the ***** that held my world together
There is no finding it now
And yes, I looked between the cushions of the couch
I prepare to run because
Like water through a busted dam it is coming
Like the pain of a stubbed toe it arrives in a furious instant
That asks for select curse words to be shouted
But so unlike pain in my toe, it does not fade
My world comes crashing down
The clouds in the sky fall
As dust onto my outstretched fingertips
(They hope to catch a bit of my falling world)
The atmosphere caves in
The air pressure intensifies
Until it has wrapped me
In a straight-jacket and
I
Am
Paralyzed
I Search for your comforting eyes as you
Distantly ask me if I am okay I’m not
Okay but I cannot
Open my mouth
For the words to say because
I cannot move an inch to save you
Let alone myself
I couldn’t even save a
Word document right now
I try to scream but
I
Can’t
Speak
And my world is crashing down
The water from the busted dam
Hits me like a concrete wall
My useless straight-jacketed body
Is swept away
The water washes away all emotion
I
Can’t
Feel
The sound of my demise is so loud
In my ears
I cannot hear you any longer
I
Can’t
Hear
The lack of oxygen
In my brain
Turns off the light
I cannot see the stars
I
Can’t
See
Water everywhere
World crashing down
I
Am
Drowning
My heart beats too
Fast
Fast
Fast
I don’t have enough air to
Last
Last
Last
World
Crashing
Down
I
Can’t
Move
Can’t
Speak
Nor
Feel
Hear
See,
I
(Gasp)
Can’t
(Gasp)
Breathe.
Mar 26, 2014
Mar 26, 2014 at 4:22 PM UTC
**† † †
A quorum of biblical scholars
turned their doubts into thousands of dollars.
Armed with Document Q
they revealed nothing new
but the dirt neath’ the white of their collars.
A proud “health & wealth” Oklahoman
was renowned as a gospel-tent showman.
While the scriptures he twisted,
their tithing assisted
his rise from poor hick to rich Roman.
A sexually diverse professor
(assured he was not a transgressor)
spoke only of openness
glossing sin’s brokenness;
rainbows and tolerance—yes sir.
A Mormon, who lost his own ephod
Realized he was running quite slipshod
and invoked Joseph Smith.
(Yes, it may be a myth—
but it’s not like misplacing your I-pod…)
A Christian whose faith was prophetic
held to views that were truly pathetic.
This crazed Pentecostal,
not quite an apostle,
had taken an End-Times emetic.
A sober and staid Presbyterian
was distrustful of thoughts millenarian.
After smoking some bud,
he awoke with a thud;
in his sleep he’d become Rastafarian.
A preacher who fleeced his disciples
overdrew his own balance of scruples.
He was finally captured
(defrocked and un-raptured)
and rent by his destitute pupils.
A sister who waxed Pentecostal,
mistook herself for an apostle.
Speaking pure glossolalia
she sure could regale ya’
with prophecy; crazy—but docile.
Sep 11, 2015
Sep 11, 2015 at 8:12 AM UTC
Who can guess the Masquerade of this Time
Such Event is a Turtle; Withdrawn to a Box
None is ever wasted; None is left behind
None is allowed to lick and tether a Fox
It is the Creature; Banned for a Reason
The Furry Red was no benefit to avail
You cannot bargain; Not even for a Season
Better if the Document is stamped by a Snail
At least it was Honest; And hardly Fraud
Shall my Letter then be sent with such Mail
Else cheat your Lover whilst he is Abroad?
Or perhaps better resolve this Bitter Alimony.
Neither you or I in this Picnic we enjoy
The Duckling Issue whose Exit we deploy.
Mar 10, 2013
Mar 10, 2013 at 8:24 PM UTC
I log into the network of my self-esteem,
To see the hearts and the wows and the laughs flooding in.
A simple 'like' wouldn’t cut it anymore
‘Likes’ were so 2010, even 2010 was bored.
‘Cause that’s the zeitgeist of the age, you see,
A tendency to wear hearts on sleeves.
Loves and kisses are a dime a dozen,
With a million friends and followers double.
National debates and social justice petitions,
Real crises, distorted renditions.
High definition photos of disaster zones
Flash up against cat videos on every smart phone.
Snapchat filters do not lie,
Just tell a story of hours gone by;
Selecting the perfect background, the ideal shade
To express love on the dozen’th date.
But that’s the zeitgeist of the century,
A tendency to wear hearts on sleeves.
To document in minute detail, with extensive pictorial evidence
Clockwork days of humdrum nonchalance.
And perhaps the generation that came before
Would call it vanity, vainglory, or something more.
But it ain’t like they were without their sins,
We didn’t invent tabloid columnists.
And now that we are at the end,
Let me sign off with this request:
Like, comment, and share your love
Let your heart fall out of your shirt cuff.
Sep 26, 2018
Sep 26, 2018 at 1:53 AM UTC
robots helping us
you see it’s been a wanted thing for generations
but i saw on TV that they have already built robots
to help the elderly, ya know, by getting them a drink, so to speak
there are many things robots can do around your home
i am a messy dude too, and i have cleaners cleaning my house
but robots can do a lot more, than w2hat your think they can do
well, robots in the kitchen helping the elderly
the sky’s the limit, how about robots to clean the mentally ill persons house
yeah, it could help, we are still in the planning stages
but it’s good that they are still bringing robots for help around the house
everyone wants that, but it’s not as easy as live in with a robot helping you
a robot can turn itself into a computer, to allow you to watch stuff on youtube
and get educated, i am feeding my stuff on youtube, for the future robots
can see me as a cool figure or authority figure
computers should stop violence, if your video contains violence, youtube should rid that
not my content, get over it copyright people, violence is much much worst
there is nothing wrong wit parties, as long as they ain’t violent
this robot can help get rid of violence in cyber space, if more can get it
think about it, Robots can get your housework done while your out
you program it, to what you want him to pick up, it’ll be pretty ****** rad dudes
that little robot vacuum, is to small, but you can get this world full of robots by the year 3000
if everyone can tell their story, ya see, everyone is different, not everyone knows much about what robots should do, yet
not everyone agrees with my work, but, think about it, the robot can be programmed to pick up your *******
and take it to the curve, always understanding, how to sort out the ******* yeah
i would love a robot to help me, like everyone, will love a robot to help them
robots can make you love life more easier, i love life now, but robots can ease my cleaning woes
these words say, robots need people to help and understand people, by physically helping them
as opposed to hearing it’s not good to help them
that is whjy i am interested in gungahlin’s common ground, to cook for them, learn from them
so the year 3000, can create a perfect robotic world
when ya think of people robots, don’t think get someone off their *****
no, no no you have to feed the internet all your stuff, ok, even paranormal
cause the internet is interested, no matter
don’t worry about how many views, think of the future with robots
and believe in reincarnation, buddhist style, every blade of grass
got a thought, tell the internet, or the computer word document
CATCH YA LATER DUDES
Feb 9, 2015
Feb 9, 2015 at 12:38 AM UTC
Children are walking in flour again,
though these grains are the symptoms
and the symptom is pain.
Resting upon donated metal table,
this child is lifeless with only a label
around his ankle for identification.
Part time doctors and full time others
walk and pace and cry and panic around the mother,
lifeless, with a document for identification.
This is malaria.
This is infant death.
This is an epidemic of hysteria.
Mar 15, 2013
Mar 15, 2013 at 12:12 PM UTC
English with 26 letters, is generally thought to be the simplest language on earth. A language built up on 26 letters is amazing.
But within just handful of letters, how many words can be misspelled..
My childish attempt to rhyme and write...
ei or ie, we are confused when we write,
it's then the words jump to end their lives.
Homonyms, homophones, homographs
It's fun to know the very facts.
Bear tried to **** Jack with its bare hands,
Jack had to bear the brunt of the bear.
Speed is what we thrive to do
If we forget to Brake, will break a head or two.
100 cents makes a dollar
Jack sent his wife to buy a stroller
She smelled the scent of a broiler
And forget all about the stroller.
The people who lives in Desert
do they have dates as their Dessert?
The dinner was perfect
The wine complemented the feast
The hosts were perfect
And were complimented for their treat.
The King who reigned Prussia
Rode high holding his horse's reins,
But his horse started to panic
As it started to Rain.
Drew looked at his new site
The building looked a perfect sight
When asked for the legal owner
He cited the document which held his right.
May 21, 2016
May 21, 2016 at 2:38 PM UTC
I’m obsessed
with counting.
Even the 47 steps
to my English class.
When that became
boring I created a way
to document, not
time, but distance.
And 47 turned to 54.
681 days since I
cut 11 inches
off my hair.
359 days since he
said Keep in touch
when the last
thing I wanted
to do was touch him.
319 days since she
didn’t text back and
then 294 days later
moved 1,731 miles
away and by now I
wouldn’t even know
where to send a letter.
One day
I decided to get
another haircut,
but I no longer bother
to know the measurements
of the pieces that
are only going to be
swept away.
Oct 11, 2014
Oct 11, 2014 at 9:41 PM UTC
Creature of myth, you have to be real
I know you're there, I know you exist
Can't see nor touch but indeed I feel
That should suffice to say the least
No one I know has seen this mythical creature
I stand by my beliefs... I simply just do...
This being unknown to aged texts or ancient scriptures
Allow me to document, I'll keep it true
*"A magnificent neck that tapers into a head
Much like a halo, wearing a luminescent crown
Azurite for eyes like many have said
A golden mane majestically cascading down
Almond shaped face, with cheeks slightly scaled
In the centre were dimple-like nostrils
From it's mouth, a voice; demure and frail
Speaks in verses from a time frozen still
Within the cage right under its chest
I know that calmly there lay beating
A huge, magnanimous heart does rest
Embedded deep within a physique so beguiling
Its spine is perfect, as if forged by a divine mould
Limbs are long, but with gait so light
Non terrestrial wings that into nothing they fold
Stretched around is smoothened skin milky white"*
That is all I have got to offer so far
Matched the words to my mind's bewitching visage
No one has seen it; thus ensured that they cannot mar
In my head will forever be etched the image
Creature of myth... Please be real
Know that I am blinded, I just want to see
Not for the others, you don't reveal
I do believe... I just need to convince me...
Sep 8, 2014
Sep 8, 2014 at 1:19 PM UTC
Who knows, when His Watch will tell you the Truth
And reveal the Sins he refused to Pour
Mostly when the Priest he tries to Conduce
When in Practice their Ripe Karma does Sour
How you Dive and Resist at the same time
Mostly on Cards you purse and refuse Face
Even if they show Numbers worth in-Line,
If not from the Isles are locked in Disgrace
Yet the Wheel-Friend still refuses this Fact
And tries to re-file this False Document
Even at-risk to be billed a Blackheart,
Booting that supposed Good Sentiment.
Daily, no pause, fold my hands for your Health
If you find Creepy, not my loss of Wealth.
Mar 11, 2013
Mar 11, 2013 at 4:01 AM UTC
I'm a Man -
I can spit information
Out there, in any way,
Shape and form I wish;
And I do - spooging
Quanta all over the shop.
However, for all my
Brave endeavours -
My escapades and victories -
I can't create a Universe;
All I can do is document
And record and report
My various experiences.
She has the upper hand,
But She chooses a light
Touch; a guiding principal;
A mistress-led, masterful
Deception of InGenderMent
For the real --> OtherWise.
Mar 7, 2014
Mar 7, 2014 at 4:56 PM UTC
An Open Letter to Really Important People
The Old Dime Box, Texas Statement
A Manifesto Made Manifest in Manifesting Manifestingness
We post this serious looking document
Bloated with long vocabulary words
Sodden with weak dependent clauses
Marshaled in numbered ranks, down, down they go
To the GossipNet all serious like
And everyone has to pay attention to us
Because it’s AN OPEN LETTER, y’know -
You may sign it if you’ve got letters behind your name
Signatories:
Apostle-Disciple Magic Dawn, DD., Non-Binary, Author of Green Polar Bears I Am, Co-Equal-Director of the Anti-Oppressionist Theatre Against the Occupation, Agent of the Revolution, Auteur, Guest on The Wheel of Fortune and Parent of Two AMAZING children of indeterminate Gender with Their AWESOME and AMAZING Life-Partner Sven-Marie.
Massive Ferguson, M.Ed., Poet, Rector of Admissions, The University of Where the Old Circuit City Use to Be
Poncy Tworbst, M.A., PUBLISHED Author, Seeker, Inspirational Singer-Songwriter, PUBLISHED
Heather-Mistee La’ Thwitte-Tworbst, Ph.D., Director of Library Resources at Saint Margaret ****** Homeschool Resource Authority Collective, Inc., Certified Ordained Consecrated Priest in The Worldwide Church of Me-ness and Pastor of the World-Famous Weddings ‘R’ Us Chapel of Rainbow Dreams in Magdalena, New Mexico
Lawrence Hall, HSG, Thinker of Thinky-Ness and, Like, Stuff, Endowed Chair he found at Goodwill, His Mark: X
(Sean Ian Johann Johnson, MBA, J.D., Chief Photocopier Operator at Donald Trump University and Fashion Editor at Gun, God, and Guts Magazine, was not able to sign today; he is sharing a cell with other White House staff and patiently awaiting The Day of Greatness.)
Aug 22, 2018
Aug 22, 2018 at 3:48 PM UTC
Spell is broken
Magic words were spoken
Gone is the hoping
Transformation in coping
Witchy eyes mesmerize
Truth spoken in lies
Undercover like spies
Today delusion dies
Now I must be mad
To want what's sad
Experiment with the bad
Sparks talent that I have
Who's the spell caster?
What makes one a master?
Some fail faster
Document moment of disaster
Love me cruelly
Intoxicated truly
Cursed..I long foolishly
Venus energy unruly
None can ever have me
Many want me badly
Love I give madly
Doesn't have to end sadly
Must've been broken
Before spell was spoken
Art wide open
Commence with scoping
Its all an understanding
Of what we are commanding
May crash before landing
Done with delicate planning
I'm a vibrational hub
Radiate unconditional love
Same below as above
Wrap souls with this hug
These words of magic blows all away
Deflect Spells of hate every day
Enter the game if you choose to play
We all live our lives in our own way
So light me up..Take this token
Potent I become when I'm smoking
Dive inside my love is open
This Phoenix shall rise when spell is broken
Dec 18, 2015
Dec 18, 2015 at 6:42 PM UTC
The love of a grandson
to a grandmother
is a special bond.
It cannot be broken.
A grandmother's presence
in the eyes of a grandson
makes him behave
more like he should behave.
He looks up to her.
I look up to you.
I often wonder
what experiences you've gone thorough.
What has made you into the you today?
You've gone through so much yet,
I've only known you
for 22 years of it.
Through that time,
you've shown me
what a great grandparent is.
You attended most of my
Concerts
Plays
and Musicals
with loving support
Every birthday,
Christmas,
Valentine's Day,
and Easter
without ever missing a beat
you would contact me.
I thank you
So
SO
SOOOOOO MUCH!
I often feel guilty
for not always contacting back.
I really need to get better at that.
As a kid
there was nothing better
than looking forward
to your Christmas presents.
The science toys,
the cookbooks,
and of course,
the Hot Wheels.
There was nothing better to me
than knowing
that I would get a new track to put together
or a new car.
As I've matured,
so have the presents.
the Alinea cookbook
is like a sacred document
I look at it often
and it always amazes me.
Thank you for inventing
"Grandma's Orange Stuffing"
Its always my favorite part
of the Thanksgiving feast.
(Way better than dad's)
Although this poem
isn't very poem-y
I hope you enjoy it
for the rest of your life.
You're the only real grandparent I ever had,
and I love you with all my heart.
Thank you for all you've done.
Nov 18, 2014
Nov 18, 2014 at 4:56 PM UTC
imagine being told you cannot walk through a hospital’s emergency room.
imagine having to document an itch as if it’s where your body resides.
recommend 2013 titles in **** romance 2013.
attach a ****** to a person whose ****** gets maced for drug smuggling.
Nov 27, 2013
Nov 27, 2013 at 4:12 PM UTC
It’s been a while…
It truly has been a while since I’ve written here, but yesterday I was triggered, inspired if you will; inspired to write this and let it be real.
When I was a child, 2nd grade to be exact, I befriended a girl on the school bus and long story short she spent my entire 2nd grade year manipulating me into all kinds of ****** acts not only with her but with other classmates. I was told by this girl, my classmate, another child, a second grader that everything we were doing was okay, it was all okay. Why?? Because her and her sisters did this kind of thing all the time.
To me as a child it made sense I guess, but she also threatened that if I ever told anyone as in ANYONE she would tell them it was all my fault all my idea. All of the staying in classrooms when no one was there, hiding and being told to do things that were beyond a child’s or even some adult’s comprehension, the hiding anywhere and everywhere and the fear of being caught it all was in my hands, and if i told I was to blame.
This went on for an entire year, or so who knows I blacked it out, but I vividly remember using a journal I got as gift to document it all detailed and when I got scared my mom would find it… I ripped the pages to shreds. And I killed the memory. I went my entire life until 19 years old that I realized it was never a dream.
It was real.
The point of this all is during a deep discussion With my best friend, I expressed to her the moment after all these years that remembered the girls name.
I told her one day my mom found a different journal I wrote in as a child, she found it a couple years ago and I was intrigued so I flipped to a random page… and on that page it was a prompt that asked my favorite and least favorite things about school.
My least favorite thing about school is: J****h .
There it was!!! Her name .
I told my best friend her name and seeing as though after I left the school district she stayed, we recalled the girl and how I can’t see her face in my mind but she knew she had a twin sister and they left the district after 2nd or 3rd grade and they came back in middle school. However by middle school I had transferred schools.
Long story short it shock my entire being that I missed this encountering this girl again . And I will never know her face or why she chose me but all I know is she was just the beginning of my trauma.
Nov 5, 2022
Nov 5, 2022 at 2:41 PM UTC
“I am a jealous God,” said the Hebrews’ deity.
Ain’t got patience for a jealous God, for I’m a spirit free.
I have many idols, on this terrestrial sphere.
And if I didn’t worship them, I’d surely not be here.
For they are Icons, real, of what I have struggled to attain,
my ideals and aspirations, or of persistence through the pain.
I worship them with love, despite their fallibility.
They guide me and inspire me,
with their strength and creativity.
For example-- modern martyrs, who’ve sacrificed for others;
I'm sure that Jesus would think of them as sisters and as brothers.
And rock and roll; it’s my religion; I know the Promised Land
cannot be much like heaven, without my favorite band.
What I seek but never find is Plato’s ideal vision--
the unseen perfect version of our seen world. My submission
is to something that we know by feeling, and I think it must be said
that the traveling to find it cannot start by being dead.
Surely Poetry and Art are to be followed, as a creed;
they can be read and seen, and then, perhaps, believed.
Music is transcendent, call it the Flesh made Word--
not reserved for us in heaven, but here, on earth, is heard.
Nature is a Goddess; her work is the creation;
we strive to understand it, through rational “divination,”
using math and science, objective experimentation.
I have so many idols; I can’t limit adoration
to just one jealous God and his righteous indignation.
The Bible is a document that’s full of truth, I know;
but it was written a long, long time ago.
I’m keeping all my idols, for they soothe me and inspire me.
I’ll continue in my “lifestyle” of spiritual polyamory.
You may say I’m going to “Hell” for my sinful apostasy,
but I’m not afraid of the future grave,
for I’ll have lived with ecstasy.
Aug 17, 2016
Aug 17, 2016 at 10:00 PM UTC
Jordan gave me rose quartz prayer beads. Freddy picked me up and spun me around.
I kissed the beads and kissed my hand and blew it to the stars, over and over again.
Thank you universe, for the kind hearted people you have dropped into my existence.
Thank you universe, for the good music, the good **** good wine, and good company.
Thank you, for the smiles, the laughs, the cigarettes, the numbers given out on backs of receipts.
Thank you for the swing sets, the campfires, the coffee and tea, the cars we drive around in.
Thank you for emotions.
Thank you for the feeling I get when someone kisses my forehead,
the feeling when someone compliments my smile,
the feeling when I notice the moon for the first time that evening.
Thank you, for the moon, the stars, the clouds, and the autumn breeze.
Thank you for the sounds, the crickets, the leaves rustling, the clinking glasses,
and the sound of small kisses.
Thank you for the snort I get when I laugh to hard.
Thank you for the bass, the guitar, the drums.
Thank you for the shouts, the soft spoken, the loud, and the whispers.
Thank you for the doors, the staircases, and the windows.
Thank you for everything that ever was, is, and will be.
Thank you for the indefiniteness of the now.
Thank you for everything.
I once read in a book, that the likelihood of our proteins folding just so to make us what we are is comparable to that of a twister rolling through a junkyard and assembling a jumbo jet.
This is something I like to remind myself daily.
It is so miraculous that we are here today to experience everything and everyone around us, and be able to document and share it.
I hope one day someone can look at my photographs and writings and feel these immense and overwhelming emotions that I feel in these moments.
Jan 11, 2014
Jan 11, 2014 at 6:10 AM UTC
There’s something about you that
makes me want to write
bad poetry
and half-assed short stories.
Something about you that
makes me want to take all my
unspoken words and turn them
into something beautiful,
something worthwhile.
You make me want to be an artist
like Van Gogh or Sylvia Plath;
you make me want to create.
Maybe it’s that blue wave
that crashes down like
an incoming tide on the beach—
your eyes
when you look at me in
a certain way, in
a certain light.
Or maybe it’s
the way that you say
my name and then say all
those horrible things that make
me want to rip something
open.
Those words that rip me open.
You make beautiful stanzas get stuck in my
head like lyrics to a bad pop song;
I can’t erase them and the
only way I can think of to cope with it
is to write them down like a schoolgirl
with a well worn diary.
I think I might as well have hypergraphia.
I am an unprofessional
medical doctor with
a pen, paper, and
Word Document
suffering from a form of
verbal ***** because I
can’t possibly think of a way to
speak my mind.
I think I would make a very good mute.
I wish I lacked a voice box
because then I wouldn’t have to
be the one that has to
say all the right, comforting things
at the all the right times
and all the right places.
Sometimes it feels as if I’m
being eaten from the inside out
by some sort of paratrophic organism
that sits atop my frontal lobe and
dictates my life and fluctuates my
anxiety and I can’t even think about
some things anymore because of this
nervous clench I get in my gut when
I let my thoughts get too jumbled.
But you—you make me want to write
the most heartfelt and sappy sentences
and you make me want to
be more than just ordinary.
You make me want to be extraordinary.
I guess that what I’m writing is
an apology in the shape of
a few stanzas and a few metaphors.
And this is an “I forgive you” for that night
that we spent outside your house
arguing over the stupidest of things,
so stupid that I can hardly
remember a single word I said to you.
Nothing gratifying is ever
painless to obtain
and I want to be a fighter like
Hercules or Alexander the Great.
I want to be extraordinary with you.
Sep 17, 2013
Sep 17, 2013 at 11:56 PM UTC
She is
A cackling old
Bird
Who undermines me
Regularly.
She wears a very
Pretty white dress,
And a big egocentric
‘S’
necklace
that reflects perfectly
in the globe of my tears
like a diamond snake.
“I’m going to ruin your life!”
She laughs.
“I’m going to make your father
hate you!
I’m going to make you cry
All the time,
When you see a lonely
Person
Or a shivering dog
Or when someone gets a
Really easy question wrong on
The Chase.”
**** off, S!
I’m trying to be tough
******* it!
Can’t you see what I’m
Trying to do with
my black converse
And my leather jacket?
(Ten pm,
Leather jacket shed,
Blank Word Document open
Teetering on the tip of a poem.
I look around the room.
S leans against a wall.
“Well well well.
Look who’s come crawling back.”
Sep 16, 2013
Sep 16, 2013 at 9:34 AM UTC
Standing alone outside the Mirage,
I felt like the only gambler in Las Vegas.
The parlay ticket in my pocket guarded,
like a Top Secret document,
loss would do me
"grave and serious damage".
But don't we all thrive on taking chances?
Some of us simply lack the courage to admit so.
I saw her legs first, emerging
from the limo in nyloned perfection.
Now a valet opening the casino door,
words gathered, a stone in my throat,
"Would the lady care for company?"
I made myself a dog at odds of 8-1,
yet, a crooked finger beckoned me follow.
I felt like the only gambler in Las Vegas.
Feb 24, 2012
Feb 24, 2012 at 9:14 AM UTC
Unprovided -- the pleasure of pleasing
is, after all, a painting that resolves
the irritating swings of a taxed evolution.
It seems that energetic trainees
of the future keep firm invitations
on the list of approved measures.
Yet living is not a guesstimate, reality
is attached by humor to the document
that simply reads "I'm not sure."
Imagine civilization as eight-years-old.
By want, business drains, not one laugh,
but the replacement of being one's own.
Shaped, the body is wary of the
counselor and satisfied by the character
of a farmer and time away from scorn.
Hang a map of sensibility in the kitchen,
where bare eyes can respond -- tokens of
action are the door prize for motivation.
The lessons not yet learned are musical.
May 12, 2012
May 12, 2012 at 11:42 AM UTC
Abalang-abala ka sa pakikipag-usap sa iyong kustomer at hindi mo na namalayang tumatakbo ang oras. Ang nasa isip mo lamang nang mga oras na iyon ay matapos mo ang iyong trabaho nang walang palya at walang ano mang iisipin pa. Nang iyong tanggalin ang headset ay doon mo lamang napansing ikaw na lamang pala ang nag-iisang ahente sa ikatlong palapag ng opisinang iyong pinapasukan sa isang call center.
Tanging ang liwanag na lamang sa iyong station ang tanglaw nang mga oras na iyon. Kaya naman ay sinipat mo ang orasan sa iyong wrist watch at napagtantong isang oras na lamang at sarado na rin ang buong building at kailangan mo ng umuwi.
Inayos mo na ang iyong mga gamit at siniguradong na-i-document mo nang maayos ang mga calls recordings mo. Nag-inat-inat ka pa muna bago mo pinatay ang monitor at CPU ng iyong kompyuter. Hinintay mo munang naka-shut down na ito bago ka tumayo. Nang tuluyan na nga itong namatay ay agad **** binitbit ang iyong back pack. Nang tatalikod ka na ay isang malamig na simoy ng hangin ang nanuot sa iyong balat.
Sa iyong pagkakaalam ay sarado naman ang mga bintana sa opisinang iyon at sigurado kang pinapatay na rin ang aircon kapag isang tao o walang tao nang naiiwan roon. Ngunit, kakaibang lamig ang iyong naramdaman. Hindi lang iyon dahil isa, dalawa, at talong beses kang nakarinig na may nagtitipa sa keyboard.
Halos lumabas na ang iyong mata sa takot pero nanatili ka pa ring matapang. Huminga ka muna nang malalim at agad nilingon ang kanina pang nagtitipang bagay sa iyong likuran. At doon ay lalo kang nanginig nang makita ng iyong dalawang mata ang biglang pagliwanag ng monitor at sunod-sunod na pagtitipa ng wala namang kamay na mga letra sa keyboard.
Nang mag-flash sa screen ang mga letra ay doon ka na nagtatakbo palabas dahil nakasulat doon ang mga katagang TYPING KEYBOARD na may kasamang pigura ng duguang bungo.
Oct 28, 2018
Oct 28, 2018 at 10:24 PM UTC
The essential inconsequential
Texted, tweeted and emailed
Tumblred and Facebooked
Of each embarrassing moment.
Hollywood star marital atonements,
Selfie in the bathroom,
Selfie in the bar,
Selfie in the shower,
Selfie in the car,
The intrinsic need,
To document each
Major or minor event,
Led many to the public noose
For what they had let loose.
They are tried in the press
And and found wanting.
Wanting more! and wanting more!
Only to satisfy ourselves, that we are
Hash Tag Selfie Me
Truly the center of the universe
....................................JMF 10/5/14
Oct 5, 2014
Oct 5, 2014 at 2:09 AM UTC