"downsizing" poems
This ... Disrespect thing ...
is ... OUT OF CONTROL ... !!!
from work to ... Street Corners ...
to ... most peoples' ... " Homes " ... !!!
My Poetry .... Roams .............................
just like ... " Mobile Phones " ...
to send out ... " This Vibe " ...
Disrespect ... NEEDS TO ... die ... !!!!!
We NEED TO ... " Respect " ...
This Thing ... we call ... " Life " ...
LOVE ... One Another ... !!!
RESPECT ....
is what's ... Right ... !!!
Take things ... in your stride ...
DISMISS ...................................... foolish pride
cos' ... Pride like they say ...
comes before ... A Fall ... !!!
and next thing ...
You've guessed it ...
You're facing ... A WALL ...
A wall ... FILLED WITH ... Bullies ... !!!
just ready to .... BRAWL ... !!!!!
But bullies ... are Dummies ...
whose thought waves are ... "small" ...
Like those who believe ...
in avoiding ... School Halls ... ?!?
That line's ... for those kids ...
with ... SLEEPLESS ... Eyelids ... !!!
ALWAYS ... think of ... THIS
A Bully is .... weak ... !!!
So Don't ... lose your sleep ... !!!
cos' bullies ... DON'T THINK ...
of the ... " Sows " ... that they reap ... ?!?
OKAY ...
Yes I mean ...
They'll reap ... what they sow ... !!!
Well ... ?
Maybe I don't ... ???
But ...
One Thing ... I KNOW ... !!!
IS ... most bullies ... Don't See ...
that the ... Sickness ... they keep ...
is REALLY ... A Sickness ...
that slowly ...... just Creeps ...
A Sickness ...
That'll give em' ...
YES ...
One ... " FINAL " ... Sleep.
and this may be ... " Why "... ?
Our Youth ......
Die on streets ..... !!!
The Cycle's ... Complete ...
from Rappers who talk ...
about ... Killing Emcees ... ?!?
to crimes some ... " Commit " ...
Against ... " Humanity " ...
I'm looking for ... " Peace " ...
in places ... I be ...
But let's get things ... STRAIGHT ...
Don't come ... Pushing Me ... !!!!!
Be ... Nice ...
and ... Believe Me ...
I'll be ... Nice to you ... !!!
I may ... turn my cheek ....
if you give me ... Abuse ... ?
But .... !!!!!
That's cos' I choose ...
NOT TO ... act the ... " Fool " ...
but .... Anything's Possible ...
I've got ... Two Hands Too ... !!!!!
I put that verse in ....
to PROVE ... Peace ...
Can Be ... COOL ... !!!
But everyone's temper ...
has Boundaries Too ... !!!!!
So ... what do you do ... ?
when THUGS ... approach you ... ?!?
Well this ...
I CAN'T ... tell you ...
cos' ... I am NOT ... You ... !!!
I'm simply ... Advising ...
Fighting NEEDS ... " Downsizing " .... !!!!
But .....
This thing ... RESPECT ...
Really NEEDS ...
An ... UPRISING ... !!!!!
cos' Violence ... INFECTS ...
and ... CANNOT ... Protect ...
The world and ...
It's ... People ...
So take time and ... " Check " ...
The thoughts I ... " Collect " ...
and take time ... Before ...
Dishing out ....
" Disrespect " ....
Apr 14, 2017
Apr 14, 2017 at 7:02 PM UTC
I pity anyone visiting us with
A language besides English;
Who tries to understand the words
We like to use with relish.
We seem to say so many words
Just to keep our lips busy.
It occurs to me the so much of it
Has never graced a dictionary.
Upscaling, downsizing
Offloading the whole magilla
The whole nine yards, bottom liine
The big honcho, the whole enchilada
I was completely plussed and then
I had my self a hissy fit
I didn't know I had a flabber,
'Til someone went and gasted it.
Hanging out, kicking back
Into myself and whatever
***** it, man. I am like, wow.
And y'know, yodda yodda yodda.
Some mean kinda fudpucker
Betcher bippees, yabba dabba doo.
Mazoomas and headlights,
Totally hyped megabitch, too.
Talkin' about 'sup bro
Stufflike windas and winders.
Jammin and gittin widdit
And sumpinbout pillas and pillers.
So, I goes and he goes,
And I'm all jazzed and by golly.
It really rocks, rad to the max
Get down to some serious party.
Sixes an sevens, p's and q's
What's your point? Get real!
It's pretty much a ******
So, what's the big deal?
Too much, I mean it's tough,
And stuff, and really far out, man.
Twenty three skiddo old bean.
Just a flash in the pan.
It ***** It blows, It bites, big time
A wicked righteous mindfuck.
Get jiggy with it. Kiss my crank;
Slob my **** Lord Love-a-duck.
Sep 26, 2015
Sep 26, 2015 at 5:24 PM UTC
Who is amused?
there's primordial ivy clinging on my brickwork
and an incident of blank verse at my poetry club,
possible unemployment rearing its head for moi.
Before my downsizing commences,
I've been busy buying more CD's
but that's my contre jour
befittingly everybody else is into iTunes,
I can only listen to myself,
even if music be the devils tune
I'll soon be home for more,
burning fossil fuels willingly
of Mesohippus's and other three toes.
Dec 1, 2012
Dec 1, 2012 at 2:10 PM UTC
She hushes me repeatedly
as if my voice could be– too loud
for these shrunken, elder walls
What voice can I revive to tell her
that this little place...reminds me...?
Ratchet up the memories
the young mistakes
my welfare “townhouse”
as if my voice could be too loud?!
Where does anger go to say
These cheesy rugs remind me!
of the smoky halls, stoop-sittin’
head lice, **** roach
fumigated invasion
Music loud enough to blow pipes
induce trauma through the walls
Thud Crash
“Stupid ****
Knife-weildin’, drug-sellin’, boyfriend-of-a-future
A can of beer later...
with stress on hold
the smells of dinner, now—all fifteen of them!
Assault me through the front window
“Ya there yet?
...to this “cute little apartment, I mean?"
So it’s sold…
Someone else will wash windows, rake the yard
Shovel Massachusetts snow
Christmas lights come down
in my mind—
Running toward them still
Toes numb
Skates bouncin on my back
Sled firing off sparks against the sidewalk in my wake
Running and as always late
Mittens soaked, heavy
Like my eyes—
Mom and I
looking out this window for the last time
Looking out toward the daughter of the woods I was
Behind—me
the bride sinks
to the bare mattress—
“Was it really 57 years?
How can it be?”
since...clutching can opener and Coke
He scooped her up and through that door....
“How can it be? Oh my….”
"You can always keep the memories."
she chirps to check the tears
But I can’t taste them!
…Mom baking cookies
stew and dumplings on the stove
Snitching chocolate bits
waiting for the bowl
Impatient little helpers at her side
Colors slipping…
A child husks corn in sunlight
A blue Huffy gleams behind birthday candles
Sheets billow from the line
Sounds fading...
A choir of music boxes
before the Christmas carnage
Doing dishes in three-part harmony
I can barely wrap my words around our voices!
“You can always keep the memories”
Preamble to the dutiful decision
Hypothermic excuse
to dump the place
Street sign shrinking in the rear-view
Aug 26, 2016
Aug 26, 2016 at 4:06 PM UTC
They say we’re crazy
Chasing stupid millennial dreams
Too far fetched they seem and sometimes we agree
But secretly we hope and pray they become reality
Excuse the interruption but does this sound familiar for anybody else?
“Big house on its second mortgage, and a camper for when we feel like downsizing prison.
Cars each on a different loan, manicured lawn because we must show status in everything we own.
Monday, he cheated with the bottle and she cheated in her heart
Tuesday, sister came home late, crying her eyes out because the arms of her last lover were just like her fathers.
Wednesday was surprisingly peaceful, but unnerving, as sunny days were far and few between and I was thinking this was just the calm before the storm.
Thursday I saw father sitting on the floor his last straw a piece of paper "final notice" printed in red
Friday mother sat in the car for an extra twenty minutes starring blankly at the door contemplating her life
Saturday was fight night
Sunday we went to church and pretended it was all alright”
I’m sorry if my pursuit in life is simply this: Happiness.
If it looks like a retrofitted van and I live like a *** because I never want to fight about little green men
Or, if it was a tiny home that her and I could reasonably afford on land far away from the city lights and temptations that come at night
You could say It’s something about the fights we could hear through thick walls that drove us mad inside
And now we chase peace and calm, love and happiness, through any means
Because that’s something that cannot be bought despite our parents thoughts.
Jul 13, 2017
Jul 13, 2017 at 12:58 AM UTC
How it starts is there's an apartment your family lives in
You do not live there
but your stuff does
Then you find out your mom brought bed bugs home from the rehab center
They are downsizing everything now
You show up with 3 boxes
and tell yourself
these can hold more than enough
Mostly you fill them with your favorite books
and in the heat of it
even that feels trivial
But you look at the photos in the frames
The pictures of you at six flags on your last birthday
You let those go
The paper towel painting Monica did at the lake
It's all in a box marked trash now
You joke to yourself about how silly
they would look on the dashboard of your car
The old electronics
and journals
writing contest trophies
You take an inventory
of everything you've ever owned
all your clothes have been thrown away
and you leave with just three boxes
and you ask yourself
"If my life were on fire
what would I save?"
only you can't answer that question
because when the fire is burning
it's not that everything looks as important as everything else
so much as nothing does
not even you
So you smile
and say that you are happy to leave everything behind
because now you have the joy of the memory of having it
Only this time
there is a girl
and she is riding shotgun in your car as you drive away
And maybe she can see the mixed emotion on your face
like driving of a cliff in your boss's car
only he is in the trunk
And she scratches the back of your head
and says
"Tell me a story handsome"
Aug 5, 2013
Aug 5, 2013 at 5:12 PM UTC
Your eyes so sharp; hint at a piercing yellow in the air-
beyond measure beyond what we lose reasons to care for.
Therefore, you shall find me down a path to the honeyed
days, when all we try to hold on to, tilts and drifts away.
While my feelings for you left me all sun-washed and
golden, now downsizing myself, inches into days.
Forever being the promise of a storm; a cause of havoc in my
heart- we meet, we fall in, fall out of love and finally depart.
Still, I’ll remain searching for the sweetness of your yellow
nectar- the tenderness we both shared. Still steeped in your
honey comb lips; as every kiss was a promise, dripping with
sweet promises, and its amber glow.
I… remain as the one still chasing after you
-an eternal hunter bee.
Jun 27, 2024
Jun 27, 2024 at 12:10 PM UTC
Downsizing
Downsizing, thats what they say
All my friends say ill be okay
That I'll find a job right away
If only they could see the pain
Downsizing, thats what they say
They lock the doors at close today
Now what am I supposed to do
Am I to old to start out new
Downsizing, thats what they say
No more work means no more pay
Twenty years at this job
They say the work now must stop
Downsizing, thats what they say
All for shareholders that must be please
Do they know the pain they've caused
So many families now feel lost
Downsizing, thats what they say
We lost so many jobs today
Not just me but many friends
Today we know it all must end
Downsizing, thats what they say
Moved our jobs overseas
Chasing just the bottom line
All to make them one more dime
Downsizing
Carl Joseph Roberts
Jul 29, 2013
Jul 29, 2013 at 6:58 AM UTC
Curious and uncomfortable
here is the tidiness, a lack of nostalgia,
a mutual waiting, spacing out,
reckoning a future past
that naturally would run its course.
All around still green and too gray
ruling a no man’s land
where to stand on toes,
holding my breath over the level
of time, when coming to a standstill
it always leaves his deepest mark.
Downsizing, justifying
what I have and what I have not.
Never I was left without my only gift
the carefulness of the loving sun,
that hint to refract inertia and will
for I live the light across.
If through one rainy night
It sounded like you changed it all.
Mar 30, 2016
Mar 30, 2016 at 3:55 AM UTC
Every year at Christmas time in the room by the door
Stood a tree that reached from ceiling to floor
With neon colored lights and presents and joy
Though that room meant more then the presents and toys
The room where our tree stood fluorescent and bright
That filled up my winters with joyful new light
But this year is different that room that I love
The one with the tree light looming above
Belongs to someone who loves it less than I
Who's tree lights are white and pine needles dry
They don't have the memories that my family shared
back when they actually pretended to care
Then dad moved elsewhere and mom wanted the same
So the room became filled with boxes of blame
Then we took those lights and threw them away
Downsizing she called it to try and make it okay
Then we moved here, though I thought she was bluffing
See that room meant Christmas and this room means nothing.
Dec 2, 2012
Dec 2, 2012 at 10:34 PM UTC
it takes awhile
but the carpet depressions
in your room, eventually fade
even gravity cannot hold forever
your markings
they reside in curtain folds
behind loose baseboards
evidence exists in photographs,
our shadows,
locked, in silvered paper
exhibits to what was
and what we were .
May 24, 2017
May 24, 2017 at 9:32 AM UTC
and suddenly my **** was a brussel sprout
in a pickle jar? fine, fine... leave the ******* to the
Indians and the Chinese; because a second Japan is
coming - all because you're an educated hoo-ha lady
making me want to cut my **** off and powder
my cheeks rather than roll in the hay with you...
you used to be so much fun when you weren't educated
by that ****** spearhead of feminism directing you in
only one direction... listen... it won't revise and accumulate
all the areas of interest that men had into one coherent
seagull gobble... you can't just walk in with feminism
and revise everything with it alone...
oddly enough, i don't even want to touch you -
the implementation of sterilisation was best designed
by feminism, while all the old farts and Vatican
gypsies had all the fun, we were downsizing
our erections and ***** juices; will make the bedroom scene
look like a democracy for sure - one way or another
the Chinese ****** to a billion, the **** ****** to
over a hundred, the Indian a billion to add -
we decided on a Scandinavian model -
which means, in our multicultural society
one bus every hour... imagine! one bus an hour...
the stupendous recollection of what if Saturday night
didn't finish with an angry man walking home
in the fidgety night of kicking things around -
and the jealousy ticket goes to?
you know who i have been glorifying like
a Jew.
Jun 19, 2016
Jun 19, 2016 at 6:29 PM UTC
hi my name is and I believe in expand out
myself as community together remain seated
small businesses and growth rend your vision with lens
finance and restructuring of sedatives and phlegm
downsizing and expansion
small businesses and growth the cannibal chair of a limbless corpse
small businesses and growth the social vision of
small businesses and growth erected stone and allotted plots
look away
where?
To the future
how?
Remain positive
with respect to what-
-Don't ask that
but
-shh
shh
shh.
Sep 29, 2016
Sep 29, 2016 at 6:16 PM UTC
Who is to say
that I will ever be happy
Like shedding pounds
and downsizing gowns
is the secret thats been kept from me all along.
Like eating air
and taking care
of my hair
is important.
And yeah, I know I'm destroying myself.
And I know that if I get where i wanna be,
I probably still won't be happy.
But at least let me deceive you into thinking
that I actually believe the opposite,
cos it's easy to lie to myself
It's harder to lie to you.
Oct 22, 2018
Oct 22, 2018 at 6:03 AM UTC
She brushed her veil aside and tilted her head upward,
Not seeking comfort or benediction,
Only to confirm what she **** well knew was happening,
That the skies, full of gray and grim portent if not outright malice,
Had picked this very time to begin steadily dripping,
Signaling what was sure to be a sodden downpour
(The weekend already chock-a-block with disasters:
The chocolate fountain a testament to dysfunction,
The rehearsal dinner poached salmon overdone and dry
The limousine company downsizing them at the last minute,
Having realized their top-line models
Could never handle the grade or narrow figure-eight drive
Up to the mansion’s precarious hilltop locale.)
The photographer, who’d lived around here all his days
And had developed a sixth sense
Concerning the vagaries of the weather
As well as those of combustible brides,
Had done his best to border-collie the proceedings along,
But as the droplets increased in size and intensity
Recriminations were hurled and doors slammed
As the bridal party sulked off
Toward what promised to be a most interesting reception.
We’d witnessed the goings on,
(Bride fulminating, groom supplicating
The location for the pictures apparently his idea,
Thus proving there are places
Where angels and husbands should fear to tread)
From a safe distance, under the overhang of the great porch
Overlooking the broad, ostensibly placid Hudson below,
Having come here in spite of the clouds,
As the odd rumble of thunder,
And occasional spate of rain being part and parcel of things,
As we’d mucked through these parts long enough to know
That they were fleeting,
And not without compensations of their own
If one was of a mind to seek them out
(We knew full well of the bewitchment
Of seeing the clouds descend slowly,
Covering the sleeping silhouette of old Rip Van Winkle
Slumbering in the knobby Catskill foothills just to the southeast)
And no more than fifteen minutes
After the newly minted man and wife left,
The sun broke through, glorious and unfiltered,
And we ducked into the great room of the house,
Reveling in the magic of unaugmented light.
Aug 14, 2017
Aug 14, 2017 at 1:17 PM UTC
Why on earth didn’t you tell me
That the entire world is getting so ill?
I wouldn’t have thrown away the golden key,
I wouldn’t have taken that sleeping pill.
Why on earth didn’t you tell me
That he’s craving for a life that’s fair?
I would have brought a wave from the sea,
I would have helped him in his despair.
Why on earth didn’t you tell me
That he had enough of conspiracy and denial?
All he wants is just to be happy and free,
Not to be condemned without any trial.
Increased temperatures, sea levels rising,
Severe weathers bringing furious flood,
Antarctica’s ice is now downsizing,
In a few years all you will see, will be blood.
Now you all have to burn in the flame of the truth,
You think you’re honourable thieves by wearing a glove,
No one will be saved by the fountain of youth.
You just pay for the departure to the sky and above.
May 29, 2019
May 29, 2019 at 9:57 AM UTC
There is no question of her cycling up the hill;
She has no upscale concoction
Of carbon-fiber frame and painstakingly engineered gear-ratios.
Her bike is a single-speed Schwinn
Of as uncertain vintage
As the woman herself,
And she walks it,
An occasional spoke missing,
The paint chipped here and there,
Up where she once climbed
In a ’54 Chrysler convertible
Next to the man
She later visited at the TB sanitorium
Which once sat at the top of the street,
Two sons giggling and bickering
In the back seat
(The boys long since gone,
Having fled the snow and the downsizing
For other climes)
But now she peddles her bike
Around Massey and State Streets for a bit
Before she coasts back downhill,
And sometimes drivers glare
At her (she is, to be fair
Something of an impediment to traffic)
And carfuls of kids or soldiers in convoys
Headed up to Fort Drum
Will heckle her--*Hey, lady!
The Tour De France was last month*!
She no longer has any interest in
The stares or commentary;
She is focused on the bottom of the hill.
Jul 22, 2019
Jul 22, 2019 at 1:07 PM UTC
When I sit down to write
500285 thoughts roll through my head
The decision of what topic to write on
Is the most difficult to make
I find myself downsizing on each "poem"
Trying to get to the core of what I'm trying to say
But I find that I miss saying other things I want to say
So
A series
Called Specifics
I want to describe more things in greater detail
So as to get the emotions out as clean as possible
Thank you for your time
May 31, 2017
May 31, 2017 at 10:28 AM UTC