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I imagine, this is what I’ll trademark
The impossibly early morning commute
I’m still drunk
It’s 6AM
And I’m still wearing my shoes

My phone sings with an urgency
It ferries the exhausting burden of responsibility

It’s 6AM
I’ll keep reminding you
Or myself
Because I have to

sigh

****

I have to make The Commute

6am

My body hangs from my brain
In a disjointed way
A detached manner
Like a consciousness manifesting through a coma

If I could forge the willpower
Gather some strength in my arm
To push my phone off of the desk
And silence the alarm

I’ll regret it in some way
Not even a second thought considered
It wasn’t even a hard decision

7:20am

As I inhale, and sigh
For maybe the seventh time
I’m suddenly aware
That in this very moment, I’m being held prisoner
I’m being forced to make a choice
I’m being forced to consider

My mind is awash in the buzz of last night
And the fade of this morning

Austere
Varying shades of whites & greys
Ohio in December
Ohio, the way I’ll remember

This is bleak
Wearing all of my previous evening
Inside and out
I feel like sandpaper
I smell like 3am
Friday night
Saturday morning
It’s Monday morning
And its a dreary 7:30

7:32am

I’m wearing this to work
This is how well I wear exhaustion
I’ll flaunt it in a professional setting
In a professional manner
A white collar show & tell

I’ll groom the bare minimum
But I MUST shave my face
Just to save face
So it doesn’t look like I have a drinking problem
Because I don’t
I just like to party

I treat my body like a machine
It’s regarded like a car I can’t afford to keep gas in
But I can afford to drive to New York at night and explore

A special kind of neglect

7:35 am

A single apple
A bowl of cereal
A bag of chips
Some energy to pursue The Commute

Literally, running on fumes
Literally, every morning
Between 6am to 1pm
Literally, running late
Everyday

Responsible living escapes me

7:41am

GO! GO! GO!
I hit the basement
I braced my knees
I covered my hands
Adjusted to bike the streets

Covered in gear
Drunk and exhausted
The idea of just staying here
Is so attractive and real

I can ******* doggedness
I can still taste the air in my bedroom
While I’m in the basement
I can also taste….unemployment
So, I go.

7:45am

Bleak
Varying shades of whites & greys
Ohio in January
Ohio, all the time really
Atleast it has the feeling
Biking in the elements

The air I breath stings something awful
In my chest
Ice cubes
In my breath
Snowflakes

The blue collar effort
Two feet of snow
And its still coming
This workout//THE COMMUTE
For a white collar job
Dealing with billing disputes
The upkeep of my finacial cause

I’m a pest
The snow is deep
Almost up to my knees
I’m a menace
I’m an obstacle among perpetual obstacles
And we’re all just trying to avoid each other

MARKET//MAIN ST.

As I start to pick up speed
My body begins to adjust
My senses waken up
And narrowly avoid
This, assaulting Mack truck
Speeding on a 10speed
Down the wrong side of the street

Whoops.

I’ve got no choice really
I can’t see or hear what’s behind me
Behind my own panting
And Kendrick Lamar’s ranting
So down the opposite side of the road I go
Around Mack truck smoke & mounds of snow

I reach the edge of the street
And depending on the day of the week
And how generous those patrons are, of St V
I could exercise the sidewalk

No such luck,
So, **** it
I’ll fight traffic
I’ll keep to the streets
And dogde the fleets

This is the real challenge
This is the adventure…
Side to side with traffic
Hand in hand with danger

Car horns & headlights
This lifestyle might really **** me

7:42am
Oh, hey look
Another *******
Middle aged driver
Righteous anger
Righteous motorist

STOP!
It was on Old Main St.
At 7:47am
I was almost on the news
This is a stanza of dediction to the man in the grey Toyota
I’ve developed wonderful instincts
I almost died
This man sped through the incorrect traffic light

So I stopped!
Or else I would’ve been on the news
At roughly 8:38am
Vehicular manslaughter would probably be the charge
Probably a hit and run
I would not have stopped either
I’m this ******* in the middle of the street
On a bike
I’m an early morning, urban menace

I hit the pavement

Desolate
Varying shades of whites & greys
Ohio in February
Ohio all the time really
Atleast it has the feeling
Sprawled, laying in the elements

My mind is awash in the buzz of the night
Before
And the fade of this morning

*******!
I’m shouting now
On the ground, at the sky
In the snow, to the ice
At these ******* motorists, at my ******* bike
A special kind of entitlement

I was born in the wrong state, in the wrong place

I hit the pavement
I skinned my knees
And scraped my hands
Numb & exhausted
The idea of just laying here & giving up is so attractive and real
But I can’t…because bill$

I treat my body like a machine
I regard it like a toy I can’t put down
Even if I choose
If afforded the chance, I wouldn’t know what to do

Dreary
Varying shades of whites and greys
Ohio in March
I won’t even ******* start

8:01am

I show up to work
Half drunk and overworked
Sleet and snowy down my side
And rehearse this white collar ritual
After my blue collar effort
I’m so ******* tired

Living on the edge has this embrace
Like something most people couldn’t stomach
Most people aren’t built for it
Most people aren’t meant to

Don’t take this as a challenge, gentle tweeter
Or take it as one
I’m not saying it can’t be done
I accomplish this, twice a day, four in a row, and roughly an odd fifth one.
Corkey Hawley May 2010
It's a dim & drizzly Memorial Monday
Hell, it could be Sunday or any other day these daze
The BBQ pickin party's cancelled
due 2 more rain and things finacial
We did not escape the flooding after all
the AC was out on the hottest day I recall
the heat & humidity is so oppressive
makes one's instincts blur & become panic obsessive
On a day set aside for all to remember
Those who gave all & did not surrender
Is marked with a lack of labor & shopping mall sales
No football, no banking, no courts & no snail mail
So I'll have another chunk of dat brownie
and wash in down with some good ol' Tenessee JD
Take another puff & drive another nail in my coffin
Until my head stops aching & can stop coughing
What will dis day bring?
Maybe I'll just sit alone with my guitar & sing
Play me some blues cause the mortgage is due
the roof is still leaking, two cats have nine kittens & I'm blue
I'm so broke I can't pay attention
to all of the things that I owe I've lost my retention
YA, I got dem steadily depressin'
Low down mind missin'
Everything is way past due
I got dem Memorial Blues

Append Just had 2 write dis 2 get my daze started, U all have happy :) Memorial Day, Doc
jeffrey robin Jan 2014
The CIA loves the common man
& is keeping us safe



Finacial Shenanigans & Deceptions
By banks & corporations

Are good for AMERICA & AMERICANS
(Such as    -----   Yourself!)

••

The Greatest Christian Value
Is

Personal Greed!

••

People who
Believe in protecting
The environment are
Communists

& it is alright to **** them

••

Blacks are good for AMERICA
as long as they keep working
&
Don't pretend to be human beings

••

Just because you are being spied on
Constantly

Does not mean you don't have
Privacy rights

••

The radiation coming from Fukushima
(& will be coming from Fukushima
For the next 1000 years )

Is good for you

••

The fact that your Benevolent Leaders

Sexually prey upon your children
& turn them into
Wrist slashing lunatics

Should be seen as humorous
Not
Tragic

••

The obvious feeling that Death
Is pervading the Human Culture
Is none of your concern

Etc

Ad infinitum

••
George A Kary Apr 2022
Into the past
Finding a place on a street
       with phone booths
Cell phones yet invented
         and many buildings
                with diversity
Created out of finacial necessity
Not by a forced "WOKE"agenda
We were all free to speak
Just a past memory today
           canceled by the ruthless elite
I walked unjudged and free
Finding the building with the fire escape
             as frontage
Where a dog seeks refuge upon
Only to squat and defecate
             onto the sidewaik below
Marking the address of a friend
              and his wife
Through a unlocked broken door
Up a noisey set of stairs
Through a heavly locked apartment door
I am greeted by my friend and his cats
The cats have thier places
In various locations
             with defications
Their box has not been emtied in weeks
All leaving a bitting odor
In sea of clutter
Known as chaos
In a unkept human presence
Yet we sit
In a confined human space
Speaking on numerous subjects
He has left his govenment job
Benefits and all
To become a writer
But, also a promoter of punk bands
               to pay for this exsistance
In this place and time
To end up about my poetry
As his wife looks on
In a attentive blank stare
Her ******* are huge
Intact
No restrictions
In a ******* T shirt
We are young
Leaving me to wonder
Is it my friend
Or his wife I come to visit?
I concude that I am a ******
Not a poet
In this time and place
He  hands me a pen and paper
Encouraging me to write poetry
I write with puff and beer in hand
As cover for my alternative motive
I write distracted by her
Fulfilling my friends desire
To obtain and pocess
What I write
Never to be seen by me again
But,possibly heard somewhere
In a punk rant
Grace E Sep 2019
I cannot deny,
The man could materialize anything I wished for.
A passing fancy, an eye catching item could and did appear whenever in his finacial power to do so.
I could have anything...
I knew it too.
But in the end all that fluff was to compensate for his lack of emotional richness.
The lack of any character depth or owning a strong self-identity.
I was never hungry with the man.
My belly was always full.
But my heart was always empty.
And it couldn't last. It was time.
Bongani G-kay Jul 2020
Obstacles coming stop signs
be aware....
envy and hate...
am on my way....
underground movin..
like a miner...
i dig for what is Precious
doors shut
they won't let us in...
self made...
they didn't make us....

Life i live...
its like a dream...
tired of breathing...
siblings fighting...
spirits colliding....another
dimension damaging...
at a miner age...
i saw the life of the person i love...
end...love inside of me died..
when people i care about left...
leave me empty...
i was alone.....
at home...

Life i live...
at age of 16...
i had suicidal thoughts....
depressed....praying...for...me to stop
breathing....a purpose of living...i searched...
surface i scratched...
nothing or something maked sense...
emotions...tense...
future....i live the past tense....
i see... i never talked about it again...
pain and anger built...
i wonder when it will
collapse...pieces...
so small can be a danger.....

Life i live...
friends...enemies...trust cost...
finacial ain't stable....
love is a drug...
damaged me alot...
i used every penny i had...
to have it...
but it never help....
am hooked...
re-hab....therapy sessions...
got me locked...
**** i have issues....
**** smells i cover it with tissues...
i see my wrongs...
i can't right them...
time waits no man...
ohh man...
i wish you knew this is a poetry...
through story telling....
reality...sticks to me
like gravity...
feet on surface...  

LIFE I LIVE
My obstacles i face and i faced

— The End —