Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Nat Lipstadt Nov 2013
Sunday's newspapers
come on Saturday,

coupons spill out
torrentially.

weekend manna
from
publisher's hell.

makes my breathing heavy,
from studious inspection,
so many needs unmet.

I fall to pieces
every weekend,
securely knowing,
I'm lacking in
so many things,
feeling my
insecure neediness
keenly.

my Target is
feverishly simple,
solution oriented.

no can find any discounts for
new rhythms,
new rhymes,
life high fivers
to satisfy,
adhere,
and revere,
that would be my
Best Buy.

but I'm clipped,
the coupons, not.
See     A Living Finish (Sunday's newspapers come on Saturday - Part II)
Michael W Noland Sep 2012
Twiddled knifes upon glass eyes, cry the insight of reprise, amongst a galvanized pride, in flight from spotlit skeletons, denied of sunlight, without a fight of adrenaline and puking on the side of missed roads.

An abode, of foreboding wealth within a duffel bag, drags the corroding moral codes of trolls controlled by ignorant over lords over the coals, before another log is tossed in the fire.

Before the fog of the fading embers, dislodge the common splendor, from the lives of nine to fivers, tending to the totals of the dead versus survivors, in vocal onslaught of the names of the slaughtered daughters of liberty that faltered in the after glow of nevermore.

Anymore,  i only wish to dream.
dream of better things that sing in the blood, and shrug the smugness from drug-less fiends, in consumption of peeling seams, and paint-chips.
Cancerous fractions entrap us.
Just ask the plaintiff.

Sustain it ...

In stillness.

Mastery over illnesses.

Embrace the contaminants of my inanimate imagination, swallowed in the shallows of a nation lost to bacon and broken beautiful.

Tokened suitable with corporate suitors to the masses. Blinded in the flashes of dismal diobolitry ,upon uprooting the touting in the jealous shouting of the shenanigry of driven villains, knowing of the chronology of the buried devilry, toiling in the ecology of a dying star.

My gods aren't too far from yours.

My stars aren't too bogged for more.

My more, your cut off point.

Disjoint the facts, let the words womb themselves and slither in the delivery, of malicious adhering to the tongue, in the atrocious abominations of falsified accumulations of the letters manifestations of fruitful creations abiding to immaculate consummation of lost thoughts that prevailed in one long exhale of a run on sentence.

No penmanship in breathlessness, as i faint in my confessions of restless lessons learned in burned futures overturned in grief.
Burned in the disbelief of fractured animals, cannibalising the chastised cultures of the mechanical signals planted in our cores.

Arms forward and moaning for more.

Always more.

I claim victory in my plastic citizenry of pity and tragedy, where i too can proclaim my self godliness and engage in bliss with the rich.

Im an emo ***** with blood on his knife and a list of names read aloud from the braille niche upon glass eyes, where to see is to realise, the severed root of the bloodline, in slow chromatic decline over time, until the with, is without, and the made mark is gone and the new birth is spawn to embark upon, brawn over brain the simple rule shall remain, conned in the game of numbers, slumbering from under the wonder of man vs machine. Again ranting in my rhyming declining into boredom.
Seldom to abandon the foreboding doom i cant shake.
Stephen king meets Dr seuss for a lovely kick of the chair and a hug of the noose.
Never to lose when smiling.
Rich Hues Jan 2019
She's wearing glasses and sits behind glass,
    He's wearing gloves; blue eyes in a mask,
    The note: "I haz Gun?",  hastily written,
    Brown eyes meet blue eyes; the brown eyes are smitten.

    In the distance, The Sweeney, all tongs and hammer,
    She's fixing his spelling, correcting his grammar,
    He's expecting used fivers stuffed in a sack,
    But she writes down her number and slides the note back.

    Outside: The driver's impatiently waiting.
    Inside:  Wide open,  blue eyes dilating,
    Then he runs, glancing back, and he's out in the rain,
    From the display case, a sigh; she'll never see him again.

    But at the end of her shift and in less of a hurry,
    In a whistle with some flowers, he takes her out for a curry.
A sonnet set during a bank robbery.

The rhyming slang...  

The Sweeney =  Sweeney Todd  = Flying Squad  = the police
Whistle = whistle & flute = suit.
Arek Jul 2022
Most of us lead normal lives
blissfully uneventful
happy with our nine to fives
for the weekends thankful

Satisfied with the things we eat
and the stuff we own
Thinking our lives are complete
before our candles blown

But myself,  I am so unique
I know there's so much more
so starting maybe from next week
I'll work from eight to four
Anksy Oct 2019
Paper, it even sounds cool
Remember Paper Mache at school
Paper is a versatile beast
Paper can be folded and creased

Paper can hold your chips and cod
Paper holds the words of your god
Litmus paper turns a different hue
Paper you use when in the loo

Newspaper to get all your lies
Paper comes in many a disguise
Paper anniversary first year gone
Blank paper ready to write on

Sand paper’s rough but smooths things out
Paper cuts, paper tickets from a tout
Paperless office never to be
Remember paper comes from a tree

Rice paper, sugar paper, paper that’s embossed
Printer paper, blotting paper will absorb the cost
Carbon paper, gold leaf paper, cotton papers too
Origami, baking paper just to name a few

Paper for your love letters, notes to her indoors
Old discarded wallpaper to line your chest of drawers
Paper table cloth and napkins, paper plates and cups
Paper when your computer fails you, just for your back ups

Paper planes, Christmas decs, sticky labels to remind
Envelopes and stamps, paper roller blinds
Wrapping paper for presents, to make someone’s day
Fivers, tens and fifties, to help you pay your way

Paper mills keep turning, magazines and books
Paper muffin cups for bakers and for cooks
Paper bags to shop with, bunting to celebrate
Fancy tissue paper, paper to laminate

Paper for all of mankind, paper pocket diaries
Paper trails and shredders, papers for your enquiries
Paper in the wastepaper bin, paper piles so high
There’s nothing like a piece of paper 1,2 or 3 ply
Big Virge Sep 2015
Ya Know ...  
I Use It Like A Nine To Five ...  
But That's NOT My Line ... !!!  
I Don't Plagiarise ... !!!  

These Words Were Inspired ...  
By .... Inity Fire ....  

Now This Proves I'm NO LIAR ... !!!  
More Like A ... " Good Friar " ...  
Who Uses What's ... DIRE ... !!!!!!  
To ... Elevate hiGHER ...  
  
Just Like ... Frequent Fliers ...  
Use Points To ... " Acquire " ...  
  
Ways To ... Get Around ...  
WITHOUT Using Pounds ... !!!  
  
Now This Piece May Confound ... ?  
Writers ... Who Are Crowned ...  
As The ... " HOTTEST  In Town ... !!!!!!!!!  
Because They Are .... " Proud " ....  
To Use It Like ... " CLOWNS " ... !!!  
  
I Use It Like ... WOW ... !!!  
  
I've Heard It From ... " Crowds " ...  
And Those Who Wear FROWNS ... !!!  
When My Words Hit The Grounds ...  
of Where They ... " Rule The Roost " ...  
of ... Poets Who Use ...  
This Thing Like It's Cool ...  
To Use It Like .... FOOLS .... ?!!!?  
  
They're .....  
CLEARLY NOT SCHOOLED ....  
In Using This Tool ...  
To Share What Is ... TRUE ...  
Within Their ... "Dark Moods" ... !!!
  
I Use It Like Dudes ...  
With Machine Guns To Shoot ... !!!  
  
Firin' SHOTS ... !!!  
Through Wordplay That's HOT ... !!!!  
And ROCKS DIFFERENT Spots ...  
Like .... Dalmatian Dogs .... !!!!! .....  
  
I Use It To Plot ...  
The Downfall of Wrong ... !!!  
  
I Use It To SHOCK ...  
Logically Like ... TUVOK ... !!!  
  
Or Maybe .... Sherlock ... ???  
When Dealing With Cops ...  
******* Like ...  " Lestrade " ... !!!  
  
Who Just AREN'T THAT SHARP ... !!!  
And DON'T Use It With Strength ...  
Cos' That's ... BEYOND Their Depth ...  
  
My Style's ....  
MORE Like ... " Shaft " ...  
AFRICAN ... In My Heart ... !!!!  
  
Who WILL TEAR APART ...  
Those Who Use It Like ... SHARKS ... !!!  
  
Who ... Use It To Write ...  
And Buy Into ... " HYPE " ... !!!  
That They Are GREAT WHITES ... !!!  
  
But As We Now Know ...  
That Story's For SHOW ... !!!  
  
They Use It To Cause ...  
People To ... " Applaud " ...  
As If They Saw ... " JAWS " ...  
  
A GREAT BIG White FRAUD ... !!!!!  
  
I Use It Like BOND ...  
Or Yes ... Roger Moore ... !!!
  
Because I'm The One ...  
Who KEEPS JAWS On The Run ... !!!  
  
So I Use It Like Movies ...  
By .... " Connecting Dots " ....  
  
So Sometimes it's MOODY ...  
And Filled With ..."Dark Blots" ... !!!  
And ... GUY FAWKES Type PLOTS ... !!!!  
  
I BLOW UP ... But Shrewdly ...  
With Wordplay That's ... GROOVY ... !!!  
That ... CALMLY And Smoothly ...  
Tastes Good Like A Smoothie ... !!!  
  
To Those Who Have TASTE ...  
For MORE Than What's ... FAKE ... !!!!!  
  
Lyrics ... That Are Made ...  
To Be ... Thrown In The Waste ...  
Or ... Thrown In The TRASH ... !!!  
  
I DON'T USE IT LIKE THAT ... !!!!!!  
  
I Use It With PACE ... !!!  
And Use It With GRACE ...  
  
And Use It In Ways  ...  
That Puts Most To ... SHAME ... !!!!  
Because Their Game's LAME ...  
And NEEDS ... " Zimmer Frames " ...  
Before ... All It Can Claim ...  
  
Is .... Dumbing Down Brains ... !!!!!  
  
So YES Sometimes I Use It ...  
In Verse That's ... ABUSIVE ... !!!!!  
  
But Only ... In DEFENCE ... !!!  
When People Make THREATS ...  
Or Make Those Attempts ...  
  
To Act As If ... I ...  
DO NOT Use It Right ... ?!?  
  
Is There Such A Thing ...  
As ... " Poetic Bling " ... ?  
  
HELL YES There Are People ...  
Who ... Use It For EGOS .... !!!  
  
Because They Are ... "feeble" ...  
And NOTHING Like VIGGO ... !!!  
  
LEADERS  Or KINGS ... !!!  
Or ... " Lords of Their Rings " ... !!!  
  
I Use It Like FIGHTERS ...  
NOT THESE ... " Nine To Fivers " ...  
Who Are REALLY ... " Part Timers " ...  
Who ... CLAIM To Be Writers ...  
When They Should ... RETIRE ... !!!!!!!!!  
  
So ... Just For The Haters ...  
Beraters' And Slaters' ...  
  
I'll Get To Your Capers ...  
And IGNORANCE ... LATER ... !!!    
  
Who Are They To JUDGE ... ?  
What Man Puts On Paper ... !?!
  
When They're NOT Above ...  
  
"low down " ... ***** Shakers ... !!!  
  
I Use It ... Just FINE ...  
WITHOUT Prose Filled Lines ...  
Cos' It ISN'T A CRIME ...  
To Rhyme ALL The Time ... !!!!  
  
It's ENVY I Find ...  
That DEFINES Their Insights ...  
  
Because ... When They Try ...  
They CAN'T Use It Like MINE ... !!!  
  
REFINED And Inclined  
To Speak About Life ...  
The Strain And The Strife ... !!!  
And YES The ... GOOD TIMES ... !!!
  
But WON'T EVER Contrive ...  
To Use It ... Just For Smiles ...  
  
Or For ...  
It To Be ... LIKED ...    
  
You DON'T Like It ...  
... That's FINE ... !!!  
  
But .....
DON'T Be Surprised ...  
If ... One Day You Find ...  
A Vision or Sight ...  
That Reflects What I Write ...  
  
Cos' I Use It Like Lights ...  
That ... Each Day We Walk By ........  
  
I Use It Like FIGHTS ...  
We See ... TAKING LIVES ... !!!  
  
I Use It Like WARS ...  
BEHIND ... CERTAIN DOORS ... !!!!  
  
I Use It Like ... " LORDS " ...  
Use It On The Poor ... !!!!!  
  
Sometime I Feel Sure ...  
I CAN'T Do ANYMORE ... !!!!!!  
  
But That's When I Find ...  
Energies Close To Mine ...  
Who QUICKLY INSPIRE ...  
  
Like ... " Inity Fire " ...  
  
And On That Last Quote ...  
That's ... ALL That I Wrote ... !!!  
  
It's Really ...  
NO Nine to Five ... !!!  
When I ... Sit And Write ...  
  
It's More Like Something Wise ...  
That Reflects On This Life ...  
  
Through ...  
Good And Bad Times ...  
  
Which I'm ....
Proud To Now Find ...  
  
Is What ...  
  
... " I Use It Like " ...
A Cappella : https://soundcloud.com/user-16569179/i-use-it-like
John F McCullagh Jan 2019
Dearest creature in creation
Studying English pronunciation,
   I will teach you in my verse
   Sounds like corpse, corps, horse and worse.

I will keep you, Susy, busy,
Make your head with heat grow dizzy;
   Tear in eye, your dress you'll tear;
   Queer, fair seer, hear my prayer.

Pray, console your loving poet,
Make my coat look new, dear, sew it!
   Just compare heart, hear and heard,
   Dies and diet, lord and word.

Sword and sward, retain and Britain
(Mind the latter how it's written).
   Made has not the sound of bade,
   Say-said, pay-paid, laid but plaid.

Now I surely will not plague you
With such words as vague and ague,
   But be careful how you speak,
   Say: gush, bush, steak, streak, break, bleak ,

Previous, precious, fuchsia, via
Recipe, pipe, studding-sail, choir;
   Woven, oven, how and low,
   Script, receipt, shoe, poem, toe.

Say, expecting fraud and trickery:
Daughter, laughter and Terpsichore,
   Branch, ranch, measles, topsails, aisles,
   Missiles, similes, reviles.

Wholly, holly, signal, signing,
Same, examining, but mining,
   Scholar, vicar, and cigar,
   Solar, mica, war and far.

From "desire": desirable-admirable from "admire",
Lumber, plumber, bier, but brier,
   Topsham, brougham, renown, but known,
   Knowledge, done, lone, gone, none, tone,

One, anemone, Balmoral,
Kitchen, lichen, laundry, laurel.
   Gertrude, German, wind and wind,
   Beau, kind, kindred, queue, mankind,

Tortoise, turquoise, chamois-leather,
Reading, Reading, heathen, heather.
   This phonetic labyrinth
   Gives moss, gross, brook, brooch, ninth, plinth.

Have you ever yet endeavoured
To pronounce revered and severed,
   Demon, lemon, ghoul, foul, soul,
   Peter, petrol and patrol?

Billet does not end like ballet;
Bouquet, wallet, mallet, chalet.
   Blood and flood are not like food,
   Nor is mould like should and would.

Banquet is not nearly parquet,
Which exactly rhymes with khaki.
   Discount, viscount, load and broad,
   Toward, to forward, to reward,

Ricocheted and crocheting, croquet?
Right! Your pronunciation's OK.
   Rounded, wounded, grieve and sieve,
   Friend and fiend, alive and live.

Is your r correct in higher?
Keats asserts it rhymes Thalia.
   Hugh, but hug, and hood, but hoot,
   Buoyant, minute, but minute.

Say abscission with precision,
Now: position and transition;
   Would it tally with my rhyme
   If I mentioned paradigm?

Twopence, threepence, tease are easy,
But cease, crease, grease and greasy?
   Cornice, nice, valise, revise,
   Rabies, but lullabies.

Of such puzzling words as nauseous,
Rhyming well with cautious, tortious,
   You'll envelop lists, I hope,
   In a linen envelope.

Would you like some more? You'll have it!
Affidavit, David, davit.
   To abjure, to perjure. Sheik
   Does not sound like Czech but ache.

Liberty, library, heave and heaven,
Rachel, loch, moustache, eleven.
   We say hallowed, but allowed,
   People, leopard, towed but vowed.

Mark the difference, moreover,
Between mover, plover, Dover.
   Leeches, breeches, wise, precise,
   Chalice, but police and lice,

Camel, constable, unstable,
Principle, disciple, label.
   Petal, penal, and canal,
   Wait, surmise, plait, promise, pal,

Suit, suite, ruin. Circuit, conduit
Rhyme with "shirk it" and "beyond it",
   But it is not hard to tell
   Why it's pall, mall, but Pall Mall.

Muscle, muscular, gaol, iron,
Timber, climber, bullion, lion,
   Worm and storm, chaise, chaos, chair,
   Senator, spectator, mayor,

Ivy, privy, famous; clamour
Has the a of drachm and hammer.
   *****, ***** and possess,
   Desert, but desert, address.

Golf, wolf, countenance, lieutenants
Hoist in lieu of flags left pennants.
   Courier, courtier, tomb, bomb, comb,
   Cow, but Cowper, some and home.

"Solder, soldier! Blood is thicker",
Quoth he, "than liqueur or liquor",
   Making, it is sad but true,
   In bravado, much ado.

Stranger does not rhyme with anger,
Neither does devour with clangour.
   Pilot, pivot, gaunt, but aunt,
   Font, front, wont, want, grand and grant.

Arsenic, specific, scenic,
Relic, rhetoric, hygienic.
   Gooseberry, goose, and close, but close,
   Paradise, rise, rose, and dose.

Say inveigh, neigh, but inveigle,
Make the latter rhyme with eagle.
   Mind! Meandering but mean,
   Valentine and magazine.

And I bet you, dear, a penny,
You say mani-(fold) like many,
   Which is wrong. Say rapier, pier,
   Tier (one who ties), but tier.

Arch, archangel; pray, does erring
Rhyme with herring or with stirring?
   Prison, bison, treasure trove,
   Treason, hover, cover, cove,

Perseverance, severance. Ribald
Rhymes (but piebald doesn't) with nibbled.
   Phaeton, paean, gnat, ghat, gnaw,
   Lien, psychic, shone, bone, pshaw.

Don't be down, my own, but rough it,
And distinguish buffet, buffet;
   Brood, stood, roof, rook, school, wool, boon,
   Worcester, Boleyn, to impugn.

Say in sounds correct and sterling
Hearse, hear, hearken, year and yearling.
   Evil, devil, mezzotint,
   Mind the z! (A gentle hint.)

Now you need not pay attention
To such sounds as I don't mention,
   Sounds like pores, pause, pours and paws,
   Rhyming with the pronoun yours;

Nor are proper names included,
Though I often heard, as you did,
   Funny rhymes to unicorn,
   Yes, you know them, Vaughan and Strachan.

No, my maiden, coy and comely,
I don't want to speak of Cholmondeley.
   No. Yet Froude compared with proud
   Is no better than McLeod.

But mind trivial and vial,
Tripod, menial, denial,
   Troll and trolley, realm and ream,
   Schedule, mischief, schism, and scheme.

Argil, gill, Argyll, gill. Surely
May be made to rhyme with Raleigh,
   But you're not supposed to say
   Piquet rhymes with sobriquet.

Had this invalid invalid
Worthless documents? How pallid,
   How uncouth he, couchant, looked,
   When for Portsmouth I had booked!

Zeus, Thebes, Thales, Aphrodite,
Paramour, enamoured, flighty,
   Episodes, antipodes,
   Acquiesce, and obsequies.

Please don't monkey with the geyser,
Don't peel 'taters with my razor,
   Rather say in accents pure:
   Nature, stature and mature.

Pious, impious, limb, climb, glumly,
Worsted, worsted, crumbly, dumbly,
   Conquer, conquest, vase, phase, fan,
   Wan, sedan and artisan.

The th will surely trouble you
More than r, ch or w.
   Say then these phonetic gems:
   Thomas, thyme, Theresa, Thames.

Thompson, Chatham, Waltham, Streatham,
There are more but I forget 'em-
   Wait! I've got it: Anthony,
   Lighten your anxiety.

The archaic word albeit
Does not rhyme with eight-you see it;
   With and forthwith, one has voice,
   One has not, you make your choice.

Shoes, goes, does *. Now first say: finger;
Then say: singer, ginger, linger.
   Real, zeal, mauve, gauze and gauge,
   Marriage, foliage, mirage, age,

Hero, heron, query, very,
Parry, tarry fury, bury,
   Dost, lost, post, and doth, cloth, loth,
   Job, Job, blossom, *****, oath.

Faugh, oppugnant, keen oppugners,
Bowing, bowing, banjo-tuners
   Holm you know, but noes, canoes,
   Puisne, truism, use, to use?

Though the difference seems little,
We say actual, but victual,
   Seat, sweat, chaste, caste, Leigh, eight, height,
   Put, nut, granite, and unite.

****** does not rhyme with deafer,
Feoffer does, and zephyr, heifer.
   Dull, bull, Geoffrey, George, ate, late,
   Hint, pint, senate, but sedate.

Gaelic, Arabic, pacific,
Science, conscience, scientific;
   Tour, but our, dour, succour, four,
   Gas, alas, and Arkansas.

Say manoeuvre, yacht and *****,
Next omit, which differs from it
   Bona fide, alibi
   Gyrate, dowry and awry.

Sea, idea, guinea, area,
Psalm, Maria, but malaria.
   Youth, south, southern, cleanse and clean,
   Doctrine, turpentine, marine.

Compare alien with Italian,
Dandelion with battalion,
   Rally with ally; yea, ye,
   Eye, I, ay, aye, whey, key, quay!

Say aver, but ever, fever,
Neither, leisure, skein, receiver.
   Never guess-it is not safe,
   We say calves, valves, half, but Ralf.

Starry, granary, canary,
Crevice, but device, and eyrie,
   Face, but preface, then grimace,
   Phlegm, phlegmatic, ***, glass, bass.

Bass, large, target, gin, give, verging,
Ought, oust, joust, and scour, but scourging;
   Ear, but earn; and ere and tear
   Do not rhyme with here but heir.

Mind the o of off and often
Which may be pronounced as orphan,
   With the sound of saw and sauce;
   Also soft, lost, cloth and cross.

Pudding, puddle, putting. Putting?
Yes: at golf it rhymes with shutting.
   Respite, spite, consent, resent.
   Liable, but Parliament.

Seven is right, but so is even,
Hyphen, roughen, nephew, Stephen,
   Monkey, donkey, clerk and ****,
   Asp, grasp, wasp, demesne, cork, work.

A of valour, vapid vapour,
S of news (compare newspaper),
   G of gibbet, gibbon, gist,
   I of antichrist and grist,

Differ like diverse and divers,
Rivers, strivers, shivers, fivers.
   Once, but *****, toll, doll, but roll,
   Polish, Polish, poll and poll.

Pronunciation-think of Psyche!-
Is a paling, stout and spiky.
   Won't it make you lose your wits
   Writing groats and saying "grits"?

It's a dark abyss or tunnel
Strewn with stones like rowlock, gunwale,
   Islington, and Isle of Wight,
   Housewife, verdict and indict.

Don't you think so, reader, rather,
Saying lather, bather, father?
   Finally, which rhymes with enough,
   Though, through, bough, cough, hough, sough, tough??

Hiccough has the sound of sup...
My advice is: GIVE IT UP!
Not one of mine but I thought it a fun look at our funny language
Jay 1988 Sep 2016
The door was open
And from then on I condemned myself
I was lost and I was broken
Inside the store where in the light of day
Pretty women buy new clothes
The lights were out but the locks weren't on even though the sign read closed
I took my chance and lined my pockets with money from the till
And from the window across the pavement watching with tears on her cheeks was stacey, she was still
I raced in the shadows of the bingo halls
Fives flew from my pocket
Landed in a puddle I fell to my knees
Picked one up and then I dropped it

The sirens ran out
They filled the air my blood ran cold this wasn't what I wanted
I used to have a job that paid the bills and filled my rover
Until one winters morning the forman came in and said "sorry guys the work is over"
Then all I had was the clothes on my back and last months money in the bank
Not even enough remained to fill my trusty rovers tank
Things got so bad my wife packed her bags
And headed off down town
Now she dances with the sirens that
Hunt these streets just trying to track me down

In a darkened corner
I lift my blanket over me behind the skip trying to stay warm
Awoken by the screaming and hounds Barking they jumped me like a swarm
I was caught in the glow of the blue lights flashing and hatred in their eyes
They pulled me up and pushed me out onto
the main street and into the sky

And there was stacey
Her long brown hair was still as young as the day we first met
Fifteen years ago I held her in my arms where in the church we were wed
I bowed my head in shame as she asked me to explain
And all I said was

The door was open
And from then on I've condemned myself
I'm lost and I am broken
I'm hungry and confused, it feels like I am over
I used to have a wife, a house I used to have a rover
Until the works shut down and I was left wondering around chasing fivers along the ground
My fingers bleed from scratching he dirt and my skin is cracked and broken
....The door was open
Nathan Young Mar 2019
There’s a stillness in the air,
A quietness that pervades the recycled breaths
of nine-to-fivers who slave away for financial welfare.
Upon the bright screens, our eyes longingly glare, exhausted,
while the mind stares to a lively forest; a lovely dream
of a much more beautiful affair.

We live through a lens instead of our eyes.
We’d rather text, than read in-person goodbyes
and we muster up apologies, oblivious to what the word implies.
We’ll dance to our phones rather than move to the shows.
Reality must be so daunting if you must choose a shell;
A safe place to call home for your personal hell.

In the grand scheme of things, humans don’t live long.
Embrace the world and all that belongs.
Enjoy the sounds of a vibrant forest’s song.
Own up to your faults and right your wrongs,
for there will come a day when you aren’t so strong,
and you’ll  be nervously waiting for death to come along.
Hurble B Burble Apr 2016
You look like everything I have ever hated if it had to consist of one being.
Seriously you remind me of the feeling you get after your first punch in the face.
The human version of what drips from the belly of a garbage truck.
I would say you're the **** of society,
But even they don't deserve the insult of being compared to you.
I bet you look in the mirror and tell yourself you're the embodiment of the American dream.
What success looks like. A guide on how to be a model citizen.
Every other normal person that you consider to be damaged goods looks at you like some sort of foreign matter. Clinging to your currency like a deranged woodsman clutching a mattress full of fivers. You think that you look sharp in that crisp new shirt fresh from it's expensive packaging. All I see is a manipulator who wouldn't know an honest days work if it bit him in the ***. Keep that painted on smile though, it's the only slightly pleasant thing about you.
Tommy Johnson Mar 2014
Remember everything that you have heard and learned
And feel the wall of insecure illusions fall apart

The vagrant sat on the side walk with his coin cup in a state of wondering

As nine to fivers walk by

“Why do all of you waste your time chasing your own tails?”
“Why do you all want to be someone else instead of attempting to be a better you?”
“Your promises, your wishes and your wicked words are all components that make up who people perceive you as”
“How could you expect your ex-lover to return when they themselves are damaged, confused and riddled with uneasy outcomes they must determine on their own?”

There is no sun in the mirror
Insanity is sobbing
Barefoot run down unpaved roads going downhill hand in hand

Summer time sunshine kiss
Our peace is at risk

Summer time sunshine kiss
We’ll soon not exist

Summer time lover
The afterlife is much safer

Summer time lover
Our kind is endangered

Wake up every morning
Thinking
Drinking
Remember the times
Evade the nightfall
The cold spirits return
From granite gardens
Mateuš Conrad Apr 2017
in germany it's called a sharp s (ß)... in poland it's just called an acute s (ś)... in english it's a revival of the original germanic intention of quasi-interpolation that the other name for ß is intended for, to suggest: es und zee; as showecased by the example that's the title... the english have this "competence" riddled into them... they can interpolate the s with the z, and the z with the s... as long at the two letters are lodged deep enough in words, i.e. not as heads (primarily, since i do not know of any words ending with a -z)... e.g. zebra... saber... sophisticated... zero.

but in all honesty, it's not about that... even though that
stated, can become relevant some day, or other...

   it's more about su doku, no. 8966...
                as the categorißation clearly indicates,
a tough ******* to crack open into a complete
solution...
                 ha ha... if they won't bend with zeppelins
or messerschmitts, or a yunkers yu (yew) 390 -
tackle them with a ß.
                                         anyway, back to the su doku...
back to no. 8966... ******* is difficult,
he's not budging, so i resort to writing something,
        relaxing my eyes on letters, rather than,
something equivalent to what the chinese would
call the 4th book of the torah (book of numbers) -
               but what i'm playing at is...
                 the fourth dimension allusion...
          su doku isn't a pain-of-fact      x, y, z
conceptualisation...
                                          ­     it was conceptualised
by asians... no wonder you can become a bit cuckoo
solving the puzzle...
                                        or at least i do...
    i do have a blind-spot for super-fiendish
     and fiendish and even difficult puzzles...
                        but then i like to relax, and i'm not
going to allow my brain - which is fat -
              become invaded by killer-proteins of alzheimer -
in the same way i won't be told that my brain
     requires flexing... like a killer protein would like
it to flex, to then invade the plump and delicate *****...
ah yes!
             the conceptualisation schematic!
                                     it's based on coordination....
       \ | /
     _   9 _                                 so it starts off like that...
        / | \

   but then ***** off and does this:

      
     (5, 5) > (5, 6) < (5, 7) << (5, 1) <<< (5, 9) <<<< (5, 4) etc.

     (it's about positions, coordinates!
                         you're not talking x, y, z style graphs,
  you're talking x, y, z, g        graphs....
                              )       i.e. the worth of having two fivers
on the graph is good... by comparison having a fiver
and a six doesn't bring you closer to the solution,
      and the rest is just:       < less than << even more less
    <<< even even more less    <<<< les dennis?

in reverse?
     oh you mean the upper part of the spectrum?
in summary it's sorta like:
      the algebra of xxxxxxxxx
             and the punctuation <<<<<<<<<
      or yyyyyyyyy and >>>>>>>>>

and it goes likes this:

     (5, 5, 5, 5, 5, 5) > (5, 5, 5, 5, 5) > (5, 5, 5, 5) > (5, 5, 5) > (5, 5)

the difference is obvious... because it just is...
you don't apply the addition emphasis of the < or > mark...
because it's ****** obvious that you're adding the same
****** number to the su doku graph:

  obviously until you get to (5, 5, 5, 5, 5, 5, 5, 5, 5) -

   if you're serious about drinking, as i am, and you do
one of these puzzles?
                            the world of colour disappears....
and you're stuck on a ******* carousel -
                     and you're thinking:
      what are these l.s.d. junkies on about
                  trying to see more colour than necessary?
try this!
                          it's a bit like a nostalgia
                    for black & white cinema...
                                                      s­ilent movies?
n'ah... that's going too far back.
nivek Sep 2015
I tried and so did a lot of others to fit into the hours on the clock
to work within that discipline and in doing so find some kind of freedom
but the freedom written in everyone's heart is not a unified template
and you have to be true in the face of all well meaning nine to fivers
even to the acceptance that you will never truly be acceptable.
Mateuš Conrad Jul 2022
yesterday's cycling session broke me, perhaps not so much
the cycling as having cycled to the former village of
Wennington: oh **** me... this is sad...
it's not like wild fires on the news in California or
in Spain or Greece... this is right on my doorstep -
well... i felt pity: not guilt... i don't own a car...
                      it's pointless owning a car in London...
the public transport network is just too good
and owning a car is too expensive...
        plus i can go anywhere on a bicycle... i can skip
traffic... i: don't have to pay insurance...
i don't have to pay road tax... i don't have to pay
for an m.o.t. and i don't have to worry about breaking
down... just flat tyres from time to time:
and the odd crash... touch wood...
i only had one... but it was all my fault... i was drunk
and lost control of the bicycle while trying to avoid
a pothole...
               but it was still a great experience... falling
over the handlebars must have looked something
of a Francis Bacon painting... smudges of movement...
a black eye... a massive wound on the forehead
and on the cheek... a skid bruise on the forearm
and a massive bruise on the right leg with a mount
of an incision: a garden of lavender and plus around
it of dead blood...
                          spectacular, absolutely spectacular:
crashing like that on a bicycle...
   at work there's this girl: Harini - the law student...
the one who kept on nagging me
about how there are too many white judges...
   too many white judges... in England? or was she talking
about barristers? either way... i tell her:
as long as a system of meritocracy is in place...
then what has race got to do with it?
   equity, right? the equality of opportunity not
the equality of outcome, no?
a variation of natural selection - the most naturally
gifted at X ought to do X...
anyway she once rode those electric scooters...
but fell off... and she never went back on riding it...
*****... literally... how do these people live any life
worth contentment?
          would i give up my passion for cycling
just because of one crash?
                                    fat chance... sure...
the first time after the crash i was shaky...
                                     shaky ******* Stevens...
at one point a pain came back to all the areas mentioned:
and a headache too...
then again... as the saying goes...
drunks have the GPS implants of birds...
        and they also fall like sacks of potatoes,
meaning: they hardly break anything...
two examples...
1) the GPS of drunks...
                 i unexpectedly booked a flight to Athens...
don't ask... i was having one of those psychotic episodes...
which is sort of like a panic attack
   but a psychotic attack is a panic attack
     in reverse... you crave adrenaline to suppress it...
and unlike a panic attack which is localised on the spot
and in the moment... a psychotic attacks takes you places
and can last for days as you build up more
and more adrenaline from doing something very
unfamiliar... i flew to Athens... i spent the night
crying in Hyde Park (what the **** am i doing?
i don't know what i am doing) - then went to Gatwick
Airport in the morning... took a shower in the airport
bought new clothes in fat-face and ****** off...
  arrived in Athens... found a ****** hostel in the worst
part of Athens: one Diogenes of Sinope after another...
(bums, homeless philosophers)...
opened that bottle of absinthe and sat down on
the street... i remember... with my left hand i covered
my eyes and with my right hand i was pointing
at something... and laughing my socks off...
magpie-type cackling... maybe it was the absinthe
or maybe i was seeing something:
proud Greek with their expensive-pension
economies... ha...
            ****... what year must it have been?
     i was supposed to be working on the Olympic village
for the 2012 Olympics.... i'm guessing 2010 or 2011...
just before the Greek financial crisis emerged on
the global scale of being known about...

second day? i go into this market square and sit in a cafe
and start chatting to strangers...
turns out i'm going to join them in going to a *******...
mind you: i'm still in psychotic mode...
this could go either way... bad for me... or bad for them...
if they're lying, that is...
            complete strangers... just met them...
hmm... when in Greece you never really know if you're
talking to someone who's Greek...
some are pale in complexion while others look like
Syrians, Arabs... then again: this was my first time in
Greece so i shouldn't have expected to know what
the average Greek looks like: complexion and all...

so we get into the car... just outside the Parliament
and we drive acres and acres out of the city centre...
it must have been at least 30 minutes...
i had drank some of my absinthe prior: left over from
the night... we enter the *******...
oh man... my first time... i've been to brothels before...
strip clubs... a strange aura...
                  completely different... more teasing...
drinks... yep... immediately a girl walks up to me
and places a green plastic circle next to my glass...
what's this? well: now i do know: "green light"...
   for a private dance / something more...
    at least i knew that i was broke... i was broke...
i had about £30 in my bank account (funny... now i have
an emergency £3000)
                   but i'm like: i'm sort of enjoying the
show that's already costing me £5 a drink...
but she sticks around, we start chatting...
   then another older stripper gets involved...
blah blah this blah blah that...
                 i catch the eye of a third: the look she gave?
i will remember for the rest of my life...
it was not a scornful look, nor angry...
i was already burying my face in the older strippers
chest with her giggling: two on my arms
and a third looking on...
                   one of the guys that came in me kept
nagging me for money for drinks:
i said i have none...
until it hit me... i reached point £0...
            my card was denied...
                               credit card? me? me and a credit card
only met once... once upon a time...
when i was a kid and had my bank account set up...
credit cards are so ******* annoying: at least
that's what i found...
         you pay for something...
  and then... wait for a month to get the bill...
sure... credit in the form of a mortgage i can understand...
it's just credit cards i don't understand...
i only work with debit...
      i spend what i have rather than have what
i shouldn't have spent money on...
so anyway... this bouncer escorts me to the nearest
cash machine...
    as i tell him: to get some cash out...
i get the ******* escort and all (i said that already,
i know) to a hotel... he ***** off to talk to the concierge
while i fiddle a bit at the cash machine...
then... i start ******* myself...
          ah... the sort of "sobering" ******...
i look where the bouncer is and... leg it...
literally speedy Gonzales it out of there... or did i just
sneak out? memory: fuzzy... perfect when it
comes to a-b-s-o-l-u-t-e truths like 2 + 2 and spelling
but memory from experience? fuzzy... fiddly...
anyway... first time in Athens... no map...
nothing... zilch... i don't know how i managed
to get back to the hostel with the already disgraceful
fact that i ****** myself...
     i was thinking: oh... ****... this bouncer is going
to bring me into an alley and beat the **** out of me:
wrong... working on a debit system means you
can't overstep the mark... i didn't own anyone
in the ******* any money: i was bad-money free...
but that's the point a drunk has a GPS like birds
have when migrating...
                    that's why i won't stop drinking...
it's too good for my brain... and the liver i can box
around with... but how the hell did i manage
to find my way back to the hostel when the car trip
was like 30 minutes long... we must have been doing
(on average) around 40 km/h that's 20km (circa)...
in the end i stayed one more night in Athens...
no... i didn't visit the Acropolis... i had it in plain sight...
i liked the fact that it remained on the hill
and i was down below: some things are best kept
forbidden... but i did manage to write some poetry
in the hostel...
    i then emailed my uncle and asked him for enough
money for a bus ticket... from Athens... via coach
to Katowice... through Macedonia, Serbia...
  Hungary... Czech Republic...
           and then to my grandparent's house...
where: finally the psychotic attack was soothed
by reading a book or two and talking with my grandfather...


2) drunks fall like sacks of potatoes...
my godmother had this anecdote... she was sitting
on the balcony of her flat... she heard
a whizz of air and a thump on the ground...
apparently one drunk was locked out of his house
by his wife... he tried to get in through the balcony
having climbed the roof and descending
from the 10th floor to the 7th... well: when there's
an "oops" like that... he fell... 7 floors...
what's that? 30 metres?
                he fell like a sack of potatoes...
like that Salman Rushdie opening where Satan
is falling head first and careless... while Gabriel
is falling trying to invent wings flapping and crazy...
probably feet first trying to be: SUPER-CAT...
catch a rhythm of the flapping hope to land on all 4s?
it gets me every time i replay that memory in my head...
the way she dropped the punch-line:
i like my godmother... i don't see her frequently /
not at all... but she's a heavy drinker too...
intelligence... it burdens the mind sometimes...
we need to slow down...
she's a doctor i'm a poo-et...
                        anyway... so she hears this whizz in the air
and a thumb... the ****** landed
   about 10cm from a metal pike... in some bushes...
7 ******* floors... he gets up and utters the words
'o kurva' (i.e. oh ****)... and walks off...
that's a bit like me and my cycling "accident"...
a guy got out of his car and ran up to me
bandaged my head while i was figuring out
why my hands were red (from touching my forehead):
two old women screaming...
i was asked if they should call the ambulance...
gladly they mistook my drunk-state for a state-of-shock...
i was like: no no.... but thank you...
i walked off... came home and took the best
medical advice available: self-prescribed (of course)
i.e. sleep...

i sometimes wonder why i'm not your stereotypical drunk...
i drink to hyper-focus on something...
i never get angry... well... i get angry at things:
because they're so ignoble... then again:
defining what a "thing" is hard when dealing
with a well-crafted table or a chair...
i don't actually know how to define "things"...
even "nothing" is a "thing"...
            the supposed "nothing" is a gateway to antimatter...
i suppose the closest "thing" to a THING
is what's an abstraction in the distance...
something you pass at speed that you: don't necessarily
ignore but don't take a concentrated account of:
you don't focus on it... ah! i know the best
example of what a "thing" is...
esp. in a gallery... looking at a painting hanging
on a wall... that's perfect... the wall is a THING...
because you're actually looking at a painting...
mind you... i appreciate all the classical paintings
of the Renaissance... but... you can't see any brush-strokes...
i like paintings where brush strokes are
visible: it's painting then: it's not geometry riddling...
painting by way of insinuating the idiosyncracy
of the hand by leaving several if not dozens of "accents"...
that's why i compared my cycling crash
to Francis Bacon's paintings...
                         well, sure: because the theme of the macabre
also helps... as did his ****-erotica...
and the drinking...
thank **** i'm not a loser drunk that needs
to drink to pronounce some averse trait of masculinity...

better for me being this loved up fool
with a GPS of birds migrating in my head
and a body that behaves like a sack of potatoes
when any harm should come to its bones...
i fall like a cube... a sack of potatoes...
anyway...
         can i imagine living a life that...
like this coworker suggested: oh no, no no...
one fall... i'm not getting back on the electric scooter...
*****...
          then again: cycling is my passion:
i hate runners... those arithmetic arthritis wonders
of the world: jelly-knees i call them:
if you're going to run! run on grass!
and mind you: if the "mob" should ever come for me...
they better not be driving cars...
cars make no sense in London...
too expensive...

                        now... the pivot... i have an 8am appointment
with my hairdresser tomorrow...
i needed to start drinking early so i could write
this and go to bed by 12am...
i'm coming to the ****** and i don't want
to come to the ******...
  the heat-wave is over... i can finally breathe...
ah... i think that's how you write...
or begin writing...
                all those very important people
and all their very important "autobiographies":
let's face it... ghost-written while still alive...
   i guess biographies make more sense...
i think fame, in the truest sense is a testimony
of post-mortem...
    i don't believe in fame in one's own lifetime...
i think fame is something akin to
what's most temporal: what can be passed on...
what employs being passed on for so long
that the name most associated with...
for example...

who invented Champagne? Dom Perignon...
ha ha... back in Poland we were taught
the French song:
frèe jacques:
        
frère Jacques
frère Jacques
dormez vous?
dormez vous?
sonnez les matines
sonnez les matines
ding ding ****
ding ding ****

                 it's a burning memory... like watching
Cartoon Network... when it was... good...
i don't believe in a fame of the living...
the dead are proper dealers in this concept...
fame... how people strive for fame...
whether through good or through ill done against
others... because fame doesn't escape
the muddling of good & evil...
the fame and the infamy...

i was broken yesterday... i know how much i ****
off women's football but i still ended up watching
England play... who did they play?
never mind... they won...
i was going to watch the Sweden vs. Belgium match...
but i thought... if i had a hairdresser appointment
at 8am tomorrow... i need to be asleep by 12am...
go get up at 7am and shower and blah blah...
then i have to go to the Turk to get my beard
and moustache trimmed...
but i'm still not watching football...
i'm watching Tom-Boys with long socks
and hair dangling pretend something...
sure... there's some green of a football pitch...
but i'm not watching the football...
weird... when i watch female athletics or female
tennis i'm watching athletics and tennis...
   for whatever my opinions i have:
i'll watch... what the hell...
at least it's more interesting than some ******
Hollywood movie based on a comic...
or an overtly existential meditation that came
too many years too late: since we covered the outpouring
of Bergman...

now...

    there's the thief... the burglar and the opportunist....
there's this Slavic motto:
znaleziony nie skradziony...
found not stolen...
i operate this maxim...
when it comes to money...
i have found a £20 banknote on the street one...
i have £10 banknotes once or twice...
i've found pounds... i've also found pennies...
would i be stupid enough to find such devaluating /
evaluating / re-evaluating "things"
(money, that's another "thing" in my gallery
of "things" that i can't place... justly...
Nietzsche was attempting to write
his magnum opus: the trans-valuation
of values before going south of cuckoos...
money is one "thing": am actual "thing" is another...
i find a £20 banknote? i'm keeping it...
found / lost ergo not stolen...
the principle of luck...
i could have spared the man the agony of
crafting ideas about a simple answer to his question
about trans-valuation... money! no ditto!)

i've been a thief before... i managed to steal a compact
disk record from a shop...
Queens of the Stone Age's song for the deaf...
i was sly... but this was different...
i was tired from cycling... i bought a bottle of whiskey
and a bottle of Lukozade... berry: ******* merry...
at the self-service outlet... ooh... what's this?
someone left the newest version of
either a Samsung or an Apple smartphone...
is it at 10.3 or whatever the hell it is at?
lucky me... i need a new phone...
so i grabbed it... it was just lying there...
packed my rucksack...

well... i didn't steal it! it was just lying there!
but i don't need a new smartphone...
i just don't want the one i own to **** up on me...
i honestly don't remember the last time i topped up...
i have £0.75 on my account and i'm still using it...
each peddling started to weigh down on me:
if it was money i wouldn't have cared...
if i found money: like i sometimes found money
i wouldn't give two fivers-worth-of-***** for
anyone who lost them: the idea behind money
is that it's transactional...
they taught us the wrong lessons in school,
e.g.: what would you do if you found a briefcase
of money on a street? was it bribery money?
was it ransom money? it's ******* money...
might as well be leaves of a tree come autumn...
money? i'm ******* keeping it..
no morals... no: no nien niet nie!

but here i am with this... £1000+ smartphone...
i ****** it... start cycling home....
i get this numbing headache without an ache...
i remember the time a former "fwend" of mine went to court over
a stolen phone...
how i helped him but he didn't help himself
therefore didn't help me...
what prompted me?
the phone started ringing...
  
who was calling? "mommy"...
hell... if it read "mom" i'd be like... *******... ******...
so much for your spontaneous lapse into
pretend Alzheimer's... imitation amnesia...
but the calling card: "mommy" got to me...
i actually don't want a new phone...
i don't actually need a new phone...
i just need the one i have to work...
mind you... money never talks:
money always listens...
i have no scrupules over money:
                      money lies on the streets all the time:
sure... most of the time they're pennies...
but sometimes... if you're humble to pick but one...
lottery-luck... you might find a pound...
or a tenner... or a twenty...
but... "mummy" is calling...
i was like: if it read: "mum"... i'd be like... lazy ***...
leaving his / her phone on the self-service station...
my gain... your loss...
"mummy"... "mommy" kept ringing...
i was already at the end of Oakland Avenue
trying to figure out how to turn off the phone
and get the SIM card out so i wouldn't be tracked...

i don't need this... however much i was tempted...
i was tempted...
but then the dawn of something akin to reason
came to the lightness of my mind...
better i return this find...
it's not gold...
and "mommy" is calling... so... it wasn't an idiot
that just left this £1000+ item in a supermarket...
as the sayings go:

myśl dobrze mów dobrze rób dobrze (a) będzie dobrze..
on Oaklands Avenue i had that "moment":
after seeing the person calling me on a found /
not a stolen phone... "mummy" is calling me...
if it simply read as "mum"... i'd be like:
well, too bad... Alzheimer prone:
spontaneous memory idiot...
this phone is mine...
          i didn't steal it: i just found it... but then something
kicked in... a headache without a headache...

I'M NOT GOING TO DO THE FOLLOWING
BECAUSE IT'S RIGHT... some absolute GOOD vs. EVIL...
i'm going to do this because i want to FEEL...
goooooooooooooooooooooooooooooood...
like glue mixed up with goo...
because that's the focus of reality...
Abel's revenge...
on the vegetarian: moral-posturing Cain...

i can't put a kid through this... the parents will probably
grill... it turns out she was 7 years old...
her for losing her phone / a mini-computer
on a self-service counter in a supermarket...

i had second thoughts: i like second thoughts...
thought that read: not because it's RIGHT...
something selfish... animating the ancient strives...
i want to feel good...
like the mantra already stated:

myśl dobrze mów dobrze rób dobrze (a) będzie dobrze...
(think good speak good do good and
maybe all will turn out good)

as i was turning the lost property in... i already received
several phone-calls from "mommy" / "mummy"...
i think that stealing this phone would have felt
much more thrilling than simply finding it...

so me and this police-officer start talking...
found this phone... yeah... 10 minutes ago...
where is the phone / where is the "mummy"? she's on
her way...
           any details? so she can say thank you?
you think i got a thank you?
i received no thank you... oh: glory to the inhibited
nature of man concerning what's good in this world...
i didn't want to be thanked: thankfully i wasn't thanked...
i could have easily ****** off with the phone:
insurance probably paid for such circumstanes...

but this is why Cain slaughtered Abel...
people are naive... i'm thinkiing:
the gods were probably just as naive: if not more...
i think the gods were naive:
me? i just tested being exceptional...
but if it was money? oh: like ****...
no chance... money is money...
money is both stone, both tree,
both a heart-transplant...
i find money... i'm keeping it...
                i have no morality concerning money...
but when a...
what sort of parent... gives authority of ownership...
of something worth over £1000 to a prepubescent
girl?! and expects not to "forget" once in a while?
is that authority and worthiness building works?
you need, strangers, to ask themselves moral
questions!
          i didn't have to ask the said moral questions:
i could have profited outright from
this scenario!

        but i asked them: regardless!
because? i wanted to feel good rather than feel lucky:
lucky on the basis of "theft"...

it's highly uneconomic to mix fizzy drinks with whiskey
coming from a plastic bottle than coming from
a can...
better, better still?
leave the already opened bottle of pepsi in
the sun... and each time you unscrew it...
after filling up... shake the bottle up...
to keep the fizziness in it...

i wish i were more evil that my inherent ontology
disavows me from being...
then again... burp... ****... 30 minutes down the lines...
i do visit strip clubs and brothels...
so... i'm sort of like...
                i'm already what's best reserved
and at the same time: what's best kept hidden...
what's to be explored:
by those not willing to explore to begin with.
Mateuš Conrad Oct 2017
if anyone asks, i didn't & don't write a single word, sober; what would be the point? i never write from my heart, i pull these beauties out of my ***, i could never take myself seriously, esp. on the topic of the atypical "my love is perfect", even ginsberg said: not even the love of a madman ever was (cf. the crucifix).*

i don't know why i'm good with money,
perhaps spending 3 years among the picts
taught me something -
  as the joke goes: how was copper wire
invented? two scots arguing over a penny,
subsequently stretching it...
but i can push the money to places i never
even thought could exist -
namely drinking every single night,
seven nights a week -
  i remember having saved enough while
in poland for the whole of december -
came back, account balance standing
at a mighty 8+ hundred quid...
   i finally managed to squeeze my allowance
balance (per two weeks) to its original
hovering just above 0 at the end of
two weeks of straightly ******* it all away...
but then i do my little calculations -
and decide: i feel like saving some money...
so i do alternative weeks, i.e.
   sunday i don't drink, monday i drink,
tuesday i don't drink, wednesday
i drink, thursday i don't drink, friday i drink,
saturday i don't drink, sunday i drink...
sure, i dread the nights when i don't:
life is short... life is short?! *******!
  these nights drag on & on and there never
seems to be enough movies to watch to
pass the night...
      but i like these detox nights -
i actually enjoy the cold sweat lying in bed
in the night listening to silence,
or interludes of music -
              but then the next day is glorious,
i make dinner in the morning,
go for a 5 mile walk late morning through
to early afternoon, pop into the pharmacy
for some sleeping pills,
   have a beer walking in public...
   stockpile on some hard liquor,
iron some of my father's shirts...
feed the cats, read the sunday newspaper...
but then i always overdo something -
now, it wouldn't be right if i didn't have
a hard drink in the afternoon and end up
writing something...
    and knowing my luck, i'm lucky when
it comes to saving money...
   oh just a sly 35cl of *****...
     but then a little magic happens...
when england introduced its australian
style plastic banknotes i thought to myself:
it's over, i won't be finding banknotes
any time soon on the pavement...
   lo and behold! the new plastic fiver,
just lying on the pavement, smiling at me...
these moments of finding banknotes always
give me a fuzzy feeling, like warm custard,
no, like really cold icecream -
i don't know, i don't gamble, but in a sense
i do gamble: i gamble with my feet,
where to tread...
        and where to look...
      i've "won" more money walking the streets
sometimes looking up,
sometimes looking down,
   i've a pretty decent record,
   about three fivers, two tenner(s) and a twenty...
i missed these weeks,
  the cold sweats, the agonisingly long nights,
but sometimes saving money has its
ups, more ups than downs.
wichitarick Apr 2020
SLAVE TO SOLITUDE

Beginning a break would not seem brash,  nothing new a little cold or maybe a rash

Morning movements now less determined,  no definite line in the sand or paying you to lend a hand

Slower in our progress bordering sloven towards the process but almost obsessive to hoard that stash

Are we slipping backwards while surviving or meditating and reviving while daily unknowns slip across our land

Many mediate to decide for us to meditate, even faster bankers prevail to cut checks before landlady's  want their cash

Rank and file suddenly slowed down, nine to fivers now await to return based on supply and demand

Hustle or bustle now a desert, vacation time is a last resort not at a resort, reporters updating new things we lose in a dash

Ordering instant idleness begins repercussions,  opens many questions with unclear answers as we try to understand

Many sharing souls with similar goals,  like a leaf from a tree separated but not alone, lost in the pile, linked by our wish for this to pass

Homes harken many follow, a path to heaven or to Hades, abruptly forced to check our souls, will we maintain a foundation or be lost in the avalanche. R.C.
Already had the title and the idea before any shut in order,so may have changed some of my more personal thoughts on being shut in.
Almost funny Have been about half way shut in for a few yrs now for other reasons,so feel like I have to share it now:)  my best,your thoughts are helpful,"PEACE TAKES PRACTICE" Rick

— The End —