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"dole" poems
“Yorkshire! Yorkshire!” I hear the EDL scream, as if somehow the county, relates to their regime? Trying to push on others their far right views, and tainting Yorkshire with their taboos cos Yorkshire to me, is whatever the **** I want it to be, I do love a bit of local pride... maybe to revel in the comfort it provides, and even though stereotypes say we're tight, as well as stubborn, argumentative (they're prolly right), But I'd rather that, than be uptight, like a stereotypical southerner might I recently read a quote from Stuart Maconie, “England has a bottom half, but there isn't a south, in the same way there's a north” The North in the south means desolation, A cultural wasteland with deserted stations, a place built on violent, aggressive foundations, With mid summer Arctic temperature fluctuations, Nothing that comes close to a nation.... But that's not what I see, To be from the north means good fish and chips, with tomato sauce and vinegar, it's glory on the lips, I see people willing to lend a hand, A honest chat about the weather as you stand at a bus stop that you never planned, It doesn't matter whether it's a cob, bun, bap, barm or roll, Or that the north was ****** over by the outsourcing of coal, Or your opinion that we're all just sat on the dole, drinking tea out of a ***** bowl. We should still all have a similar goal, To have a good time, and not hurt a soul Sometimes I do like to revel in the divide, but I'll always welcome people from the other side, Acceptance is not sin, and if you let it, it generally ends up with a win : win What's Yorkshire to you? I haven't got a clue... but come sit down so we can have a chat and a brew! And hopefully we'll both learn something we never knew.
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Oct 8, 2014
Oct 8, 2014 at 12:33 PM UTC
The Divide
“Yorkshire! Yorkshire!” I hear the EDL scream, as if somehow the county, relates to their regime? Trying to push on others their far right views, and tainting Yorkshire with their taboos cos Yorkshire to me, is whatever the **** I want it to be, I do love a bit of local pride... maybe to revel in the comfort it provides, and even though stereotypes say we're tight, as well as stubborn, argumentative (they're prolly right), But I'd rather that, than be uptight, like a stereotypical southerner might I recently read a quote from Stuart Maconie, “England has a bottom half, but there isn't a south, in the same way there's a north” The North in the south means desolation, A cultural wasteland with deserted stations, a place built on violent, aggressive foundations, With mid summer Arctic temperature fluctuations, Nothing that comes close to a nation.... But that's not what I see, To be from the north means good fish and chips, with tomato sauce and vinegar, it's glory on the lips, I see people willing to lend a hand, A honest chat about the weather as you stand at a bus stop that you never planned, It doesn't matter whether it's a cob, bun, bap, barm or roll, Or that the north was ****** over by the outsourcing of coal, Or your opinion that we're all just sat on the dole, drinking tea out of a ***** bowl. We should still all have a similar goal, To have a good time, and not hurt a soul Sometimes I do like to revel in the divide, but I'll always welcome people from the other side, Acceptance is not sin, and if you let it, it generally ends up with a win : win What's Yorkshire to you? I haven't got a clue... but come sit down so we can have a chat and a brew! And hopefully we'll both learn something we never knew.
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37
Sustenance for friends and clients; state your case – come one, come all. The matron arms of Social Service will not let you fall. Food stamps make our nation stronger, licked, then stuck on the public roll. Social programs last much longer adding recipients on the dole… Like the Ephesian Diana many are my benefits! Mine the matriarchal manna; latch and suckle at my teats. Yours the client’s right to nurture. Mother will supply your need; Child, you must not fear the future – feed, my baby, feed. Call me nanny, call me Lord just make sure you’re calling on me. Mine are the gifts you can afford they’re taxpayer-funded, worry-free! Once you are latched I’ll keep it flowing like an intravenous habit. Keep that ****** situated where your will can never grab it Let it never cross your mind that there’s an end to all lactation. Cloward-Piven have refined this titillation. Love me.  Need me.  I’m the State. Your well-being is my affair. With your consent I’ll dominate, because I care.
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Sep 9, 2015
Sep 9, 2015 at 9:07 PM UTC
Licked, Stamped, Undelivered
Call for the robin-redbreast and the wren, Since o’er shady groves they hover, And with leaves and flowers do cover The friendless bodies of unburied men. Call unto his funeral dole The ant, the field-mouse, and the mole, To rear him hillocks that shall keep him warm, And (when gay tombs are robb’d) sustain no harm; But keep the wolf far thence, that ’s foe to men, For with his nails he’ll dig them up again.
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5.1k
A Dirge
city in the shadow of a mountain like denver on vacation shady and deep flowing down like the river seeking centre houses cling to the crags like barnacles inverted ship cavity jutting out of the rainforest paradise of truants and travellers eternally in transit to islands and misfit fringes, cold floors and warm couches and displaced ***** enthusiasts sailors without floatation treading land and bills and PTA meetings cast off travellers on their way to golden gates or northern lights rivers under troubled bridges fish suffocating underwater living on the refuse of the nuclear generation transmuting the lead into sustainable energy recycling the atmosphere into breathable air apathetic anarchists return from extremity living on the dole or working for the man we are building something greater than this
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Apr 12, 2014
Apr 12, 2014 at 12:31 PM UTC
bridges
The sky wept the sky wept the sky wept the sky wept while I leapt, while I leapt, well I leapt thru fire. Gasp sigh perspire. give me your tired huddled and heavy laden that loud light holds us up high in his left hand and will be ********* man. we'll be ********* man. Harvest moon incited madness granjero in a gas mask destined to manifest the liberation front. watch me kiss the sun. thirtytwo one, I am done. canvas demon, lower the lights &arise.; like who wouldn't wanna kiss the sky... Miss 'My,my,my' meet Major fleet week now yall dance and drink each other's blood doesn't that sound like fun isn't it so sweet wonder some praise the priest ***** mothers ******* sons, my lachrymose lack of passion weighs a **** fantastic ton, I wish someone would come & divvy me a dole of fresh faced inspiration and vintage faded soul... I am mobile homosapien. I am not your friend simply a lazy ally, I reside in the unfunny pages. Dated and bathed in flame, given back to the air where I came from. humdrum funk, under the ugly sun feelin lovely in the slums. Undone undone
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Sep 19, 2015
Sep 19, 2015 at 12:46 AM UTC
Venus in the Sky.
You smile when you see me writing tenably watching like a child when I turn my prose into rhyming I smile back: "this one's about you" when I kissed you this morning I suddenly realized you taste just like fruit. Like a Pineapple, of all things considered sweeter than a whole bunch of grapes your skirt flaunts your skittles and your legs take the proverbial cake Piña Colada to go with my Enchilada pretty please let me taste the rainbow? I don't like Pineapple on my burger on my pizza I don't feel it either my taste buds become a bitter turbulent river but I just love it on you, that little thing that you do dancing in that lil' grass skirt make it our own Hawaiian Luau. Your juicy lips are a 100% from concentrate like drinking from a can of Dole blowing me a kiss, giving me a smooch please drown me in them a Pineapple falls ways far from an Apple and SpongeBob lives in one of them. From your eyes to your thighs I think of way back when my favorite fruit in the garden you humbly became it's been just peachy from there on end. With the words we shared as we laid in the hay your laughter intoxicated my lungs right down to my pores and through my veins and that's a good thing always a good thing put your hair up the mirror loves a silly face your sly smile for the camera my photogenic exotic babe. Endangered in this world you are the only one of your kind like an extinct Dodo Bird please stay by my side and let me one thing in you confide that the forbidden fruit wasn't an Apple alas, unknown to Adam it was a Pineapple.
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Dec 26, 2009
Dec 26, 2009 at 3:35 PM UTC
"You Taste Like Pinapple"
You smile when you see me writing tenably watching like a child when I turn my prose into rhyming I smile back: "this one's about you" when I kissed you this morning I suddenly realized you taste just like fruit. Like a Pineapple, of all things considered sweeter than a whole bunch of grapes your skirt flaunts your skittles and your legs take the proverbial cake Piña Colada to go with my Enchilada pretty please let me taste the rainbow? I don't like Pineapple on my burger on my pizza I don't feel it either my taste buds become a bitter turbulent river but I just love it on you, that little thing that you do dancing in that lil' grass skirt make it our own Hawaiian Luau. Your juicy lips are a 100% from concentrate like drinking from a can of Dole blowing me a kiss, giving me a smooch please drown me in them a Pineapple falls ways far from an Apple and SpongeBob lives in one of them. From your eyes to your thighs I think of way back when my favorite fruit in the garden you humbly became it's been just peachy from there on end. With the words we shared as we laid in the hay your laughter intoxicated my lungs right down to my pores and through my veins and that's a good thing always a good thing put your hair up the mirror loves a silly face your sly smile for the camera my photogenic exotic babe. Endangered in this world you are the only one of your kind like an extinct Dodo Bird please stay by my side and let me one thing in you confide that the forbidden fruit wasn't an Apple alas, unknown to Adam it was a Pineapple.
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50
This contains swearwords!!!! Do you know what it’s like to be on the dole? The giro, the social, the rock and roll, Well I’m tellin you now, that it’s no laff, No heat or food, round at my gaff, I can’t pay the bills on fifty three quid, This is how I live; I’m tellin ye kid, No Lecky, or water, or comfy bed, Nowhere to lay my educated head, You’s think I’m brewsted on state benefit, Well I’m tellin ye now, life is **** No jobs are goin in my town, This whole ****** country is goin down, I look every day for a job to do, Over qualified under qualified, scew you, I’d brush your path, deliver your dinner, My options for work get thinner and thinner, But we get the blame for the country’s debt, And seen in your eyes as a useless get, We are not scroungers and living like kings, We can’t afford the simple things, We can’t take our kids to Blackpool pier, Or to the fair, it’s just too dear, It’s not our fault the system let us down, Schooling was crap, but I got a cap and gown, So don’t look at me, like I’m **** I’ve bettered meself to get out of this pit, I’m clever and proud and I stand tall, I make something out of nothing, coz I’ve got **** all, You won’t tread us down, yeah that’s right, We got fire in our bellies and where ready to fight, We’re not greedy for a fancy lifestyle. The simple things make us smile, So quit avin a go, at our worlds apart, I’m scouse and proud, with a lions heart, So live well in your mansion, apartment, or detached, Coz were the generation that Maggie hatched, Yeah that’s right were Maggie’s crew, The under privileged, not like you, Time to step up the Cameron’s and Clegg’s, Coz you’ve sat long enough on Thatcher’s eggs. Tina Ford
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Feb 5, 2014
Feb 5, 2014 at 6:51 PM UTC
Maggie's eggs
This contains swearwords!!!! Do you know what it’s like to be on the dole? The giro, the social, the rock and roll, Well I’m tellin you now, that it’s no laff, No heat or food, round at my gaff, I can’t pay the bills on fifty three quid, This is how I live; I’m tellin ye kid, No Lecky, or water, or comfy bed, Nowhere to lay my educated head, You’s think I’m brewsted on state benefit, Well I’m tellin ye now, life is **** No jobs are goin in my town, This whole ****** country is goin down, I look every day for a job to do, Over qualified under qualified, scew you, I’d brush your path, deliver your dinner, My options for work get thinner and thinner, But we get the blame for the country’s debt, And seen in your eyes as a useless get, We are not scroungers and living like kings, We can’t afford the simple things, We can’t take our kids to Blackpool pier, Or to the fair, it’s just too dear, It’s not our fault the system let us down, Schooling was crap, but I got a cap and gown, So don’t look at me, like I’m **** I’ve bettered meself to get out of this pit, I’m clever and proud and I stand tall, I make something out of nothing, coz I’ve got **** all, You won’t tread us down, yeah that’s right, We got fire in our bellies and where ready to fight, We’re not greedy for a fancy lifestyle. The simple things make us smile, So quit avin a go, at our worlds apart, I’m scouse and proud, with a lions heart, So live well in your mansion, apartment, or detached, Coz were the generation that Maggie hatched, Yeah that’s right were Maggie’s crew, The under privileged, not like you, Time to step up the Cameron’s and Clegg’s, Coz you’ve sat long enough on Thatcher’s eggs. Tina Ford
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42
My timeline is filled With self indulgent selfies Searching for gratification And self satisfaction Need to get an instant reaction Some social media traction There's no time for distraction From this digital attraction You can't get enough Of the interaction 1,000 poses in your camera roll Narcissists are taking control It doesn't matter What the time Come wind, rain Snow or shine Just make sure You look devine Lick your lips You're looking fine Flip the camera And strike a pose Making sure Everybody knows Here's your next Digital daily dose Does it really matter Which ******* filter you chose? I feel like I've lost my soul Narcissists are taking control The bathroom Is the perfect spot Take your picture Before you Photoshop Bunny ears And a rainbow smile Frogs legs And a crocodile Snapping away Well all the while You could have been Down the Curry Mile Instead you're out there On your own Sat at home On your ******* phone Sharing pictures With people you don't know You'll end up on the ******* dole Narcissists are taking control 1,000 poses in your camera roll Mirror selfies And online trolls Constantly searching To find your soul There's no way out Of this black hole Just one more post On your way home Narcissists are taking control
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Sep 14, 2019
Sep 14, 2019 at 8:34 AM UTC
Narcissists Are Taking Control
A seventies child Born in Wales, one of the four Countries of The UK. I remember brown as the colour of the day. Fabric embossed wallpaper all the neighbours names, who married who, who was carrying on, the alcoholic, the beaten wives, Even, get this the peadophiles (or kiddy fiddlers as was known) Dai the milk, Mair the bread, the shop of infinite items. Rugby practice for dad, baking for mam (Cake and babies) gossip over the garden hedge Fish on a Friday a Sunday roast, hot sweet tea. Bubble and squeak, post delivered before you left for school. Mist on the mountain, dew on the grass. Welsh valley life, sounds idyllic but scratch the surface and a darker colour than brown emerges. Petty squablings leading to familial feuds, the Williamses don't get on with the Joneses, and as for the Pritchards, less said the better. School, local, no not for me. I was sent to a Welsh School, taught and learnt the language denied to my Parents by English politics. Cat amongst the pigeons there. Did I think I was special? Ideas above her station. That's what the neighbours say. Well, you all had the option. Dr Forbes FRCS Delivered babies buried men and women Loved by all, especially his lollipop sweets. I wasn't a child to get ***** or rip wrapping paper off of gifts, I liked to go under the stairs (like Harry Potter) and read. I left the dirt for my sister born 4 years later. Then in 1982 came my brother, tidy my mother describes it. '74,'78,'82 poor dad to have to wait I say! More pubs than chapels, more walking than driving more rain than sun, more music than ever was sung. The '80's came, and we had strikes, no electric, candles toast made with a toasting fork over the fire. No mines, no steel, no jobs. Picket lines, dole queues, women in work latchkey kids, Thatcherism, ******* times. Falklands war, IRA bombs, Royal weddings Tory rule But, the fire in the dragon never went out and Tom Jones still sings his heart out. Cymru cysglyd gwlad y gân, deffrwch nawr, dyma'ch tro.
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May 15, 2014
May 15, 2014 at 4:27 PM UTC
70's Childhood in Wales.
A seventies child Born in Wales, one of the four Countries of The UK. I remember brown as the colour of the day. Fabric embossed wallpaper all the neighbours names, who married who, who was carrying on, the alcoholic, the beaten wives, Even, get this the peadophiles (or kiddy fiddlers as was known) Dai the milk, Mair the bread, the shop of infinite items. Rugby practice for dad, baking for mam (Cake and babies) gossip over the garden hedge Fish on a Friday a Sunday roast, hot sweet tea. Bubble and squeak, post delivered before you left for school. Mist on the mountain, dew on the grass. Welsh valley life, sounds idyllic but scratch the surface and a darker colour than brown emerges. Petty squablings leading to familial feuds, the Williamses don't get on with the Joneses, and as for the Pritchards, less said the better. School, local, no not for me. I was sent to a Welsh School, taught and learnt the language denied to my Parents by English politics. Cat amongst the pigeons there. Did I think I was special? Ideas above her station. That's what the neighbours say. Well, you all had the option. Dr Forbes FRCS Delivered babies buried men and women Loved by all, especially his lollipop sweets. I wasn't a child to get ***** or rip wrapping paper off of gifts, I liked to go under the stairs (like Harry Potter) and read. I left the dirt for my sister born 4 years later. Then in 1982 came my brother, tidy my mother describes it. '74,'78,'82 poor dad to have to wait I say! More pubs than chapels, more walking than driving more rain than sun, more music than ever was sung. The '80's came, and we had strikes, no electric, candles toast made with a toasting fork over the fire. No mines, no steel, no jobs. Picket lines, dole queues, women in work latchkey kids, Thatcherism, ******* times. Falklands war, IRA bombs, Royal weddings Tory rule But, the fire in the dragon never went out and Tom Jones still sings his heart out. Cymru cysglyd gwlad y gân, deffrwch nawr, dyma'ch tro.
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47
When I was in her shoes, somewhat, I could be injured by any word, anything. If only they could feel what I feel. I forget what I felt. I have only cultivated a hard shell, as I dole out negativity.
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Oct 5, 2016
Oct 5, 2016 at 7:42 AM UTC
When I was in her shoes
Urns and odours bring away! Vapours, sighs, darken the day! Our dole more deadly looks than dying; Balms and gums and heavy cheers, Sacred vials fill’d with tears, And clamours through the wild air flying! Come, all sad and solemn shows, That are quick-eyed Pleasure’s foes! We convènt naught else but woes.
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3.3k
Dirge Of The Three Queens
Star, that gives a gracious dole, What am I to choose? Oh, will it be a shriven soul, Or little buckled shoes? Shall I wish a wedding-ring, Bright and thin and round, Or plead you send me covering-- A newly spaded mound? Gentle beam, shall I implore Gold, or sailing-ships, Or beg I hate forevermore A pair of lying lips? Swing you low or high away, Burn you hot or dim; My only wish I dare not say-- Lest you should grant me him.
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3.1k
Star Light, Star Bright--
Je jedna adresa na vrchu nebe, kam jednou doručí mě, možná i Tebe, ale je jedno místo o dost blíž zemi, kde topí zadarmo, kde nejsou peníze, tak jako v nebi. Tam někde nahoře máš výhled shůry a můžeš tam potkávat nebeské můry, ale tam někde dole Ti shoří křídla a žízeň uhasí jen podzemní vřídla. Je jedna adresa na vrchu nebe, kam jednou pošlou můry i Tebe, ale je jedna adresa o dost níž k zemi, kde vaří zadarmo, kde nejsou stravenky, tak jako v nebi. Tam někde navrchu jsou nebeské kůry a andílci z KFC maj' křidýlek fůry, ale tam dole pod zemí jsou kosti bez stehen a duše tam nespravíš jediným stehem. Je jedna adresa na vrchu nebe, kam jednou doručí, co zbyde ze mě, ale je jedno místo lehce nad zemí, kde život se v prach pro jednou změní.
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Jun 4, 2018
Jun 4, 2018 at 12:56 PM UTC
***
Seven stars in the still water, And seven in the sky; Seven sins on the King’s daughter, Deep in her soul to lie. Red roses are at her feet, (Roses are red in her red-gold hair) And O where her ***** and girdle meet Red roses are hidden there. Fair is the knight who lieth slain Amid the rush and reed, See the lean fishes that are fain Upon dead men to feed. Sweet is the page that lieth there, (Cloth of gold is goodly prey,) See the black ravens in the air, Black, O black as the night are they. What do they there so stark and dead? (There is blood upon her hand) Why are the lilies flecked with red? (There is blood on the river sand.) There are two that ride from the south and east, And two from the north and west, For the black raven a goodly feast, For the King’s daughter rest. There is one man who loves her true, (Red, O red, is the stain of gore!) He hath duggen a grave by the darksome yew, (One grave will do for four.) No moon in the still heaven, In the black water none, The sins on her soul are seven, The sin upon his is one.
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2.7k
The Dole Of The King’s Daughter (Breton)
O, wind! what saw you in the South, In lilied meadows fair and far? I saw a lover kiss his lass New-won beneath the evening star. O, wind! what saw you in the West Of passing sweet that wooed your stay? I saw a mother kneeling by The cradle where her first-born lay. O, wind! what saw you in the North That you shall dream of evermore? I saw a maiden keeping tryst Upon a gray and haunted shore. O, wind! what saw you in the East That still of ancient dole you croon? I saw a wan wreck on the waves And a dead face beneath the moon.
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2.2k
The Wind
we're such a benevolent lot we give the Welfare set our hard won dough they sit on their ***** and do not a thing while we're out working for a wage but our kindnesses are being exploited by the dole collectors those ***** mothers having broods of kids and we hand them our toiling quids those kids should be supported by their daddies let them get a job and become responsible for their sprog the Welfare system is getting plundered every day by those who won't get out and earn their pay how nice our honey *** has been taken for granted and bled of its generosity
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Jan 6, 2014
Jan 6, 2014 at 7:25 PM UTC
Generous Taxpayers
I Solemnly, mournfully, Dealing its dole, The Curfew Bell Is beginning to toll. Cover the embers, Aand put out the light; Toil comes with morning, And rest with the night. Dark grow the windows, And quenched is the fire; Sound fades into silence,— All footsteps retire. No voice in the chambers, No sound in the hall! Sleep and oblivion Reign over all! II The book is completed, And closed, like the day; And the hand that has written it Lays it away. Dim grow its fancies; Forgotten they lie; Like coals in the ashes, They darken and die. Song sinks into silence, The story is told, The windows are darkened, The hearth-stone is cold. Darker and darker The black shadows fall, Sleep and oblivion Reign over all.
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2.1k
Curfew
hammer me hammer me hammer me to the ground hammer me hammer me with your hard hitting pound hammer me hammer me hammer till I cry hammer me hammer me blacken both my eyes hammer me hammer me break my jaw with your clenched fists hammer me hammer me so my face contorts and twists hammer me hammer me I so enjoy the bruising pain you dole out hammer me hammer me with your forceful clout hammer me hammer me so that I bleed most profuse hammer me hammer me keep imparting your gross abuse hammer me hammer me hammer me
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Sep 3, 2014
Sep 3, 2014 at 9:16 AM UTC
Hammer Me
we three kings are having a jar, bearing gifts we stole from the spar, money counting, profits mounting,... selling em in the bar. ooh, ooh, car of wonder,pile of ***** pinched it from a building site, we proceeded, they don't need it, taxi's dear this time of night. we three kings are shy of a goal, work for a living is selling your soul, we got money, think it's funny, tuesday we sign on the dole. hoodie laughs at working fools, mocking men that play to rules, we pay taxes, he relaxes, he's the king, and we the mules.
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Dec 20, 2010
Dec 20, 2010 at 9:01 AM UTC
three wise men
is it right to follow the law if it is not right? is it just to dole out justice with a lady liberty lacking sight? when so many are the disenfranchised and the majority of wallets, tight is a moratorium ending harming or mending? where is the break in our dark someone illuminate rational light for the contrast is stark between those who laze and those who fight
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Jul 7, 2021
Jul 7, 2021 at 4:50 PM UTC
Geopolitical Blues
On occasions, I think about sad things, A pathos that touches my soul, Like a cat half-drowned after swimming, Or the empty feeling when your dog dies, Or an old horse standing in the rain, Or a man waiting in a dole queue, Or a child lost in a supermarket, Or seeing your parents cry, Or never being in-love, Or unrequited love, Or being alone, Completely, Empty.
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Jan 21, 2012
Jan 21, 2012 at 11:22 AM UTC
Sad Things
“Blessed are the poor in spirit: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” Because you understood your lack, Your deficit of soul, You held aloft your empty sack To Heaven’s welfare dole. Though others said, “I have no need, I’m rich forevermore.” --(Not knowing that their state, indeed Was wretched, blind, and poor)-- You looked within your heart, perceived Your insufficiency, And Heaven’s Kingdom you received To end your poverty.
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Apr 30, 2017
Apr 30, 2017 at 7:08 PM UTC
Beatitude #1: Poor in Spirit
Are these tears of blundering laughter or heckles of contempt that spirit on these haggard few to rhapsodise our era’s curtain calls? They who brought us mounting debt and conscientiousness which seems only to be healed in the appeasing fluorescence of 24-hour supermarkets and the purgatory of weekends spent at home? Such stifling, nervous coughs are head as responses of today’s domestic questionnaires Gung-ho reformative advances and calls to “pull up our socks” Mixed with the state-sponsored fortune-telling Rationed out to boys languishing on the dole. Which All falsely transpires, intimidatingly revealed as being About as appealing as vacuum cleaners for the soul aimed at the resolutely bored to tears. Despite our fears the sun will come streaming again through fresh fir trees which decorate contemplative, sheltered lanes. These last, frostbitten years seek replacement with halcyon days in order to suspend dogmatic disbelief. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves: Pessimism is **** Even in the most roaring of times we remained despondent and calculated.
0
Jul 16, 2012
Jul 16, 2012 at 12:12 PM UTC
Spring Torrents
I'm too old for the part, too old to even read. This cuts me to the quick- (something my ego didn't need.) I had thought that gray was **** the director thinks its not. It might have been, sans double chin, and without this large bald spot. Instead he has me trying out for a humorous,character, role. Swallow your pride, Othello, it beats being back on the dole. I remember waiting tables ,biding time back when times were lean and so was I, Then nothing lay between a maiden's legs, and I played Hamlet beneath the summer sky. Our film proves a modest success I receive some kind words for my art. The critics are harsh towards the lead they opine he's too young for the part!
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Apr 4, 2012
Apr 4, 2012 at 11:39 PM UTC
Too Old for the Part
I'm too old for the part, too old to even read. This cuts me to the quick- (something my ego didn't need.) I had thought that gray was **** the director thinks its not. It might have been, sans double chin, and without this large bald spot. Instead he has me trying out for a humorous,character, role. Swallow your pride, Othello, it beats being back on the dole. I remember waiting tables ,biding time back when times were lean and so was I, Then nothing lay between a maiden's legs, and I played Hamlet beneath the summer sky. Our film proves a modest success I receive some kind words for my art. The critics are harsh towards the lead they opine he's too young for the part!
0
Apr 4, 2012
Apr 4, 2012 at 11:39 PM UTC
Too Old for the Part