"mortgage" poems
Dear Miss ********,
We regret to inform you that unfortunately at this time we do not have space for you at our company.
Yours,
Xxxx xxxxxxxx
Dear Miss *******,
We regret to inform you that unfortunately at this time we cannot offer you a place with our company as you are under qualified.
Yours ** xxxxx
Dear Miss ********,
Thank you for your application. We regret to inform you that you are over-qualified for the position.
Yours, xxxxxxx ***
Dear Miss ******,
I don’t think so love. This isn’t even a letter, this is my managerial position on you handing me your cv.
Cheers, bahbye now
Dear Miss *******,
This isn’t really a letter either, but despite how un-pc this is, we can’t hire you due to your gender.
Thanks anyway, save your paper.
Dear Miss ********,
Thank you for your application, unfortunately we had stronger applicants.
Yours, etc., aaaaaa aaaaaaaaaaaaa
Dear Miss ********,
Thank you for your application. Unfortunately we are not hiring at the moment even though we had advertised the job you applied for.
Yours, xxxxxxxxx xxxxx
Dear Miss ********,
We had left it between you and another applicant, and couldn’t decide so we flipped a coin, and she won. You’re a lovely girl though.
Yours, fffffff ffff fffff
Dear Miss ********,
I refer to your claim for Jobseekers Benefit/Assistance at VVVVVV’s CCCCCC local office. Jobseekers Benefit/Assistance claims are subject to periodic review, consequently, I would appreciate if you would attend this office for interview on the 31/17/78 and bring the following :
1. Proof of Identity (i.e. Passport or Driving Licence or Long version of your Birth Certificate)
2. Proof of Residency (e.g. Letter from landlord/ Rent Book/ Lease/ Mortgage Receipt/ Letter from Parents + Household Bill)
3. Written Proof of recent job applications and replies.
4. Proof of job applications made through FAS
5. FAS courses applied for.
6. A copy of your Curriculum Vitae (CV): unemployed from
7. If your spouse/partner is an adult dependent on your claim, please bring his/her GNIB and Passport/Travel Documents.
Failure to respond to this letter may lead to suspension or disallowance of claim.
Yours sincerely,
**** *****
Local Officer
Feb 15, 2013
Feb 15, 2013 at 10:26 AM UTC
last week i told you that the inevitability of the end was near
you couldn't stop it
i am a patch of black ice and you are a semi
but we refuse to let go,
refuse to throw out what we have
just because we're young and stupid
and you can't fall in love until you have a college diploma on the office wall
and a mortgage to pay
a hundred thousand regrets
and a lost love who you gave up on
simply because you didn't believe in the resilience of young love
we fell in love in spring,
and there's something to say about the innocence of that first love
unparalleled spontaneity and discovery
that will never be duplicated
so why would you throw it away?
your forever is shorter than mine,
so i'll never promise forever
all i can promise you
is now
Apr 22, 2014
Apr 22, 2014 at 12:14 AM UTC
They say home is wherever you lay your head at night
That must be true
because my former house has a lock on the door now;
a lock to keep me out.
I never realized this is how it is to be homeless,
the endless wandering of a place to rest at night
the endless cycle of hunger and
thirst and
protection
I walk out of work with not a place to be in the world
and if I’m being honest it should frighten me.
I am a wanderer.
I have no sense of direction,
no moral pull,
nothing to lose and everything to gain.
I have this endless feeling of discomfort and
an airy breeze where the good in my heart and soul should be.
I am a girl, not a very beautiful or talented one.
I belong to anyone who belongs to everyone.
Home is where I rest my head for a night.
Home is a backseat
Home is a smoke filled room at 2 am
Home is a parking garage
Home is a strangers bedroom
Home is a feeling rather than a location,
but those who have a lock and key and
a mortgage fee will never understand.
May 21, 2014
May 21, 2014 at 12:07 PM UTC
~
*Tonight underneath debris
Family foreclosure
...
Heaven's legs dawn through window
Offer artificial hope
...
Employee to love
Dressed for escape
...
Pleasure town angel
A multi-colored pretty thing
...
Mom questions way
Daughter drives to parties
...
Empty lips talk
**** reflection patterns
...
Death inside mom and dad
Beautifully cold skin
...
War god kiss
Midnight blue people (at dinner table)
...
Young shadows flower
Final stars fire
...
Money born cloud
Raining on remnants of family
...
Is there nothing
Left to mortgage?*
~
Jul 4, 2025
Jul 4, 2025 at 9:49 AM UTC
Agony and Pain,
Filled in the eyes,
Gaze seeing beyond..
Future is unpredictable
Life is futureless
Yet,
You, My Farmers you toil the soil...
Year after year,
You keep on working
Tilling the land,
Sowing the seeds,
Waiting for the rain..
And watch clouds pass by...
The shower doesn't happen,
The seeds don't germinate,
The crop doesn't turn up .
Yet again,
One more year of despair...!
The pain in eyes..
Hurts the heart
but,
Lips always smile..
They have a task of,
Explaining your child
About how next year...
We will buy
New dress
New toy
New shoes
New bag
It's been years since your child saw anything new...
Since your wife bought a new dress..
You anyways are not even in list...
The family understands..
The years foods is collected,
Bare minimum...
Child education should continue
Regardless..
But...
The loan goes
Higher...
Bigger
Humongous..
You cannot bear the thought...
The farm being in mortgage..
You don't know what to do...
Finally,
You are tired,
You decide, as your neighbor..
You shall too end your life...
Go away in peace..
Away from all these...
Hurt is too much
To bear,
Pain is too much
To wear,
Life is miserable
And
Lips refuse to smile..
Child s haunting eyes,
You can't decipher...
Finally...
You end your life....
.
.
.
Your wife now bears it all...
All alone...
Life continues....!!
Sparkle In Wisdom
Dec 2018
Dec 25, 2018
Dec 25, 2018 at 7:01 AM UTC
I'm not too lucky when I gamble
I lose more than I win
I would probably do better
If I tossed my money in a bin
Gambling is not just luck
It's timing and some skill
Some gamble for the fun of it
Some gamble for the thrill
To define exactly what it means
To risk money that you've earned
Means throwing out sensible thought
And not heeding what you've learned
For example, I played poker
And I lost most every cent
I lost my mortgage payment
Now, I'm living in a tent
To win it back I chose to go
And bet double at the track
The first horse that I bet on
Fell and broke his back
The second horse was scratched
I was in for a bad night
My fifth horse only had three legs
And he could just turn right
The next one had a jockey
Who's eyes were badly crossed
I won't tell you how he finished
But, I'll tell you that he lost
To gain back my small pittance
I went to the greyhound track
My first dog had a rider
A small monkey on his back
In the third race I got daring
And I bet on number three
Once the race got started
He had to stop and ***
I picked a dog in the fifth race
Just because I liked his name
It was the best one I had ever heard
"I'MBETYOU'RESORRYTHATYOUCAME"
The odds were long but what the hell
I was now gambling just for fun
Not only did he catch the rabbit
My ****** dog had won
I think I've got the secret now
I know just how to win
If I get tempted to go back and bet
I'll throw my money in the bin.
Sep 6, 2012
Sep 6, 2012 at 5:16 PM UTC
Two fine films: The Lost City and Blood Diamond.
I joined Blood Diamond during a village massacre
and said to my wife A gun in every home.
Those devils would think twice
before razing the village and seizing the boys.
A well-regulated militia.
The local militia the most interesting moment
in a strong film with motive (economic, emotional), action (chases,
fights) and a **** sexless love story.
Use of violence by the local militia for a limited purpose: protect the
community, the young
from the janjaweed. The crop from the ****
Limited scope and defensive posture
but armed and coordinated, cooperative, the men (and the women)
side by side.
Warriors at the gate, you will not run, you will not bargain.
Just violence = limited scope, defensive posture.
Great music. Cuba, Africa.
The Lost City, when the communists tell the club owner under threat
of violence
No saxophones in the band. The saxophone!
Invented by a Belgian--Look what the Belgians are doing in the
Congo!
When the state's violence is turned against the citizenry
for non-violent acts.
This quiet neighborhood, July,
undergirded by violence, force. That's a given--
any farmer, custodian, EMT will tell you that.
Without just violence
Gandhi's scope, and King's, might be vanishingly limited,
negligible (but not non-existent)?
Regarding King
the matter is simple -- he was non-violent but dependent upon
federal force to counter the South's violence.
No doubt without the larger force, the non-violent would be
overwhelmed by southern violence.
Here, non-violence was a tactic, not an ethic.
Gandhi, however, had no violent partner to protect him from the
British. Or did he?
1. There was the potential violence of the population, which Gandhi
restrained but could release which the British feared, and
2. It was the restrained (limited scope) violence of the British that
allowed Gandhi to exist rather than be extinguished--this restraint
was a (British) cultural imperative (limited scope) as well as
emanating from Britain's view of India as a protectorate and
valued citizen of the United Kingdom (defensive posture).
What about violence or threat of violence to compel compliance with
community
as in mortgage foreclosure, driving without license, drug possession.
Perhaps it is necessary violence to maintain orderly commerce, the
common space, and preempt bad behaviors associated with
otherwise neutral, private acts.
The defensive posture is the common good; the limited scope is
forgoing deadly force.
But the citizen, too, must maintain a disciplined, armed non-violence,
in case the state (the janjaweed) engages in an unjust, autoimmune
violence.
Hence, a gun in every home.
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 9:56 AM UTC
(memories from a lost youth)
When i was small the world was a big place
and there were lions at the bottom of our garden.
I never knew what a mortgage was
and i was never allowed to stay up late!
You got lots of presents at Christmas
and on birthdays we played postman knocks
and kissed girls in dark cuboards, he he.
Our toilet was at the bottom of the garden,
mum said our garden looked like a jungle;
so you learnt to hold your *** after dark.
Cos there was Lions at the bottom of our garden!
Jan 22, 2015
Jan 22, 2015 at 9:20 AM UTC
Please explain inflation
Why do prices rise
For when I go out shopping
They change before my eyes
I just don't seem to get it
why some go up and down
Why a red car's more expensive
Than a new car that is brown
I tried to do some simple math
I went back to the books
Now I think that all economists
Are just white collar crooks
Follow me on this one, now..
A buck in 1970 is now worth near five fifty
I don't know how they did it
But I think it's kind of shifty
A funeral costs much more today
But this one is a pickle
For in western movies I have seen
My life's worth a plugged nickel
That hasn't changed in many years
So, I made a decision
It has to do with the new math
And that ****** new long division
Wheat is up, and so is beer
And theres one that I resent
To put my worth in when it's asked
It's still just two **** cents
A house...well, that's a nightmare
Some cost more than you will earn
You'll be owing for a lifetime
Your mortgage you won't burn
Water, there's another thing
It's now worth more than gas
But now, our nice tap water
It's quality won't pass
Six cents would get you postage
To send a letter, that's not bad
Today..it's almost ten times that
And that is really sad
But here's one that's confusing
Of all the things you've bought
This one's never varied
It's still a penny for your thoughts
two bits could get a haircut
And it would also get a shave
But now to get this combo
It takes two weeks to save
Hockey cards they cost a dime
And baseball cards did too
But, now they're an investment
And a dime won't buy you two.
Please think on this real hard now
It's a tale that's really old
Let's find how Rumplestiltskin
Could spin straw into gold
Inflation is a ******
It's all over the earth
I say smile, and then bend over
And that's my two cents worth!
May 31, 2012
May 31, 2012 at 5:02 PM UTC
Abigail slides the glass door shut.
As beads of water percolate off her body
and land on the faux stone tile,
the smell of chlorine from her swim
and the smell of coffee from my brewing *** blend.
My uncle, Abigail's father, and my mother
are seated at the sticky, spilt soda kitchen table beside me.
"Go get ready for dinner," my mother's brother says, sending
Abigail's bikini'd frame through doorway and around the bend.
The brew idles, and I'm all porcelain and sugar substitute for a moment,
then back by my uncle and mother.
"Abigail has gotten so thin," my mother says.
"Is she eating?" my mother asks.
"I know it's tough for girls her age. When they're looking to marry," my mother says.
I want to bash the smoking cup into her face.
My uncle says she's been training for a marathon.
My neurons get tidy and taper off.
So, it's out of the kitchen and into an empty living room
to park my *** on an empty piano bench.
I set the coffee on top, and press eight of my fingers down
on black keys.
I hear toes-to-heels, toes-to-heels.
I gaze over my shoulder.
Now, Abigail's in a black, black dress. Mid-thigh.
In her left hand,
red fuck-me-shoes with a heel that could turn a curious man blind;
in her right hand,
black pantyhose and cherry lipgloss.
"You should have swam," Abigail delivers with hushed precision,
like she'd been reciting the line throughout the duration of her swim.
Abigail has long brunette hair,
and it's sticking to her neck.
Deep permanent dimples frame her lips.
She's a nurse in Waco.
Each time I see her, I think about
Bukowski's 103-pound "Texan".
It makes me rash, violent, a heady monstrosity,
and trembling sick.
"I forgot my trunks."
"That's no excuse."
I would respond, but she's sliding the hose up her leg.
In the living room.
While my uncle talks a second mortgage around the bend.
Her right leg crosses her left,
an overpass and an interstate.
My forehead overheats in a flash,
and I feel like she's staring back at me.
When my leering eyes shift from
her toes to her eyes, the pupils beckon:
"All roads lead to me."
Jun 18, 2012
Jun 18, 2012 at 12:48 AM UTC
a bottle of scotch had bad dreams.
bullets twitch, junk sick
in 3 inch thick
mustard ****
toe nails clipped from yeti
lay strewn about the **** stained corpse
of a motel six dixie cup -
root canal trophy,
next to
a black fez
with scab tassel
upended.
down in it. belching apnea
propaganda
and belladonna
waiting for curious george
to find a shotgun
and a yellow
hat
and a brick banana.
blowflies inhale the rank damp
of a fresh ****
the odd dog whines
like a clown in -
a blender.
[ the ]
house wins
with a marked card; jabbing fat fingers
into acned rosacea
bloated with sleep lack
and mortgage
back stab
chasing twenty ******
with a hollow point
pull from an acid
flask
while hailing a black cab.
tinsel sutures
stitch eyelids as a mercy
shattered bone knit
hand-grenade
cozies
old glory, at half mast
half wasted
fifty stars, no light
dragging on
the grounds of immunity
to do a line
of coke stock
with a basset hounds'
finesse.
your taxes at work
in columbia,
hiding from a lost farm
in Idaho
your american dream
turning tricks in shanghai
for a counterfeit
egga roll
your meme, devoid
like an ice cube
tombstone
your freedom, parking cars
for italian escorts
smoking skin flutes
for ferraris
and white teeth.
your integrity, sold to a hedge fund
for astroglide and a pez dispenser
packed with prozac
pressed by ' Jose the butcher' s abuela
in a narco slum
that ain't seen radio
since cinder blocks
had wings.
Dec 26, 2012
Dec 26, 2012 at 2:40 PM UTC
Happiness is what?
Three point five kids and a mortgage
That won't last as the boundaries change
Instead of happiness look at the little pockets of happy
Oh they pass you each day
Make them your purpose
Accomplish that and you have happiness
Mar 25, 2013
Mar 25, 2013 at 8:24 PM UTC
The best way to get over an issue,
Is really quite simple in my eyes,
Simply stop viewing it as a problem,
And it becomes a nice surprise.
A death becomes a family day out-
Put the fun back into funeral!
The deceased has probably moved on,
To a place that's far more beautiful.
Your lovers left you? Not to worry,
The memories are here to stay,
And if we're going to honest,
She's probably happier this way.
Can't afford to pay off the mortgage?
Cheer up, silly - let's go camping!
It was just bricks and mortar anyway,
And the place needed revamping.
If you lose your job keep that chin up,
What you have now's a holiday!
Let's be honest - your boss was a ****
And you won't miss him anyway.
You've got writers block and poetry,
Flows no longer from your pencil?
Me too! That's why I forced these rhymes,
And I show lack of potential!
Jan 6, 2016
Jan 6, 2016 at 1:34 AM UTC
**** the religion,
**** the division,
**** the crony capitalism,
**** the drug war,
**** the shady cops, and
**** all the prisons,
**** the suits,
**** the boots,
**** the watches,
**** the rings, and for that matter,
**** the foolish pursuit of material things,
**** monopolies on property
**** this country's fake democracy,
**** the corporate aristocracy, and
**** the leaders' proud hypocrisy
**** the layered social classes,
**** the non-apportioned taxes,
**** the cars that run on gas, its 2015, aren't we past this?
**** mortgage debt,
**** student loans, and
**** the tanks, and
**** the drones
**** Wall Street,
**** stocks and bonds
**** the wars and
**** the bombs, and
**** indoctrination,
**** the public education, and
**** the institutional racism,
**** my mind for always racing, and
**** the American Dream, the one that's sold in magazines, and
**** me having to say **** a bunch, so I can vent some steam, but
Is this the best that we can do? I look around, it can't be true, but
If the answer to that question's 'yes,' I'll kindly say:
'FUCK YOU!'
Jan 3, 2015
Jan 3, 2015 at 10:31 PM UTC
Drums of Autumn tell us, grandmother,
what did they mean?
Did you ever get the Lincoln cane? Did you cry?
Kenny, I'as a orphan. I never knew.
---That happened, Kenny was my name.
I looked past the rim,
there was the Corn Mother,
I think that's what I coulda seen,
but then it's only Grandma, with a grin.
Kenneth means know, Grandma said, I gave you that name.
kenning handy, a knower, by God,
not handsome in that vain way they have today,
handy,
winsome in puzzles 'n' riddles 'n' such
Kokopelli's play mate, some day.
Mistooken words rot,
if they lie, idle, in the dust
meaning
nothing ever. I shall not want,
I was taught a mistooken truth,
I took it,
gript it tight,
Get a job. Live with some class, join
a club that
takes your kind. Some churches used to
use
the Rotary test, if you could pass that test
you could eat,
after the message at the mission.
true? fair? goodwill? wait
if the first test is failed, what matters?
fair good will benes d'vitas?
from the treaty bound liars who called my grand
mothers savages, all of them,
right by
right of conquest. their treaty verified it to me,
then they gave me blankets,
General Leonardwood,
nope, Lord Jeff Amherst did that, then we died.
Read the treaty, 1763, small print. Blankets.
From the small pox ward, went unsaid.
That was just,
after
the French and Indian war, where the father of
the force that claims world-wide military
superiority
sufficient unto the evil of today,
George, the man on the horse,
surveyor for the future,
fought injuns,
so the king could sell their measured land to freed slaves,
thus making the mortgage chain, so popular today.
Build a casino, get rich quick, it's in the treaty,
lotsajobs,
busboy, bus driver, maid, Sioux chef and so
many, many more.
Grandma, in my vision, turned and walked
into the desert.
I took her word.
Brushed the dust and breathed it in.
Then I spit against the wind,
winked at you and rode my wind away.
Free is easy, if you can ride on wind.
Oct 17, 2018
Oct 17, 2018 at 4:38 PM UTC
When I get too blue
I laugh at myself
pick up the leash
and take Mr. Brown to the dog park.
He shows me how
to be carefree
will jump and bark
drink a gallon of water
and lick whomever he chooses
without a worry in the world.
Everybody admires his *****
What kind of dog is that?
He’s a Rhodesian Ridgeback.
an African lion hound,
but he’s scared shitless of my cat.
what’s yours?
A Visla.
Looks like yours, only smaller.
Did you see that American Foxhound?
That s.o.b. can jump!
Yeah, too bad he can’t pay my mortgage.
The young photographer shows off
his brilliant Doberman’s latest trick –
a double backflip
catching the Frisbee ten feet high
landing on all fours.
The old lady with the blind daschund
says, “Oh, oh, isn’t he wonderful?”
She claps her hands in delight.
The canine Noah's arc show runs all day
with the entry of pugnacious Sharpeis
the arrogance of Poodles
the inscrutability of giant Malamutes.
the pride of leash-holders.
Gradually tree shadows darken the sawdust
and people start parading home,
the **** athletic girls with their boyfriends’ Shepherds
the slow old men with their greying Labradors
the lady real estate agents with their tiny Shih Tzus.
And then it’s silent
I’m the last one there
alone in the gathering dusk
still hearing echoes of joyful barks
realizing how funny it is
that so many people
look just like their dogs
but I don’t think about it,
I just marvel at all this joy.
Feb 17, 2013
Feb 17, 2013 at 6:16 PM UTC
perfunctory actions
zombie habits
sheep normalcy
blindly following the cud chewers
lemmings fall to their deaths
slowly
genetically engineered crops
dusted with pharmaceutical poison
laced with irradiated petroleum pesticides
fed to the babies of the poor –
wealthy voyeurs eagerly tune-in
as the impoverished masses rot
for viewing pleasure
leisurely strolling across manicured lawns
those in power scoff at the growing spectacle
unaware that the cake is stale
and the masses smell blood –
hurriedly, accountants shuffle tax rates
mix those with interest credit
season it with mortgage fees
and serve it on wall street
place mats
taking stock of stock market gains
gamblers do double gainers off high rises
adding to the flesh being consumed by the under class
under classed –
underclassmen, underpaid, stretch under ware elastic
as waistlines expand with the debt ceiling
both symbolizing the slow decline of
the American dream
screaming into the sewer
fewer eyes look back as disease dulls the iris
loss of the inner shine
glowing reflection of living organisms
fading as the day
slips into the blue-black –
night falls on a nation of imbeciles
brain dead patients
broken by depression and weight-loss scams
hearts crying out for care
personal and compassionate
instead are met with sterile robotics
and sanitary “C” students dressed in white
fearful of lawsuits
and spiders
they prescribe to symptoms
without knowing insurance number 87319A23-S1
is a human being, just like them
also living in fear
of the same establishment –
Jun 24, 2014
Jun 24, 2014 at 1:33 PM UTC
I think often
Of breastfeeding
The tip of my ****** tickling his skin-thin upper gum.
In my imagination
It is many minutes of calm
I cup his head
Which fits into a palm and a half
My body is full
With his quiet innocence.
I imagine trying to imagine
How much he doesn’t know
All the ***** things
This action may mean one day
How he doesn’t know
What a kitchen is
Or a mortgage or an income
His fears are not boring.
Mine are of finances and guilt
His involve teethed creatures and deaf silences.
He does not know what it means
For the time to be 3:15
Nor can he comprehend
The recentness of his existence.
I and the cat are nocturnal
He lives in intervals.
We associate babies
With a soft pink
I imagine
Looking into his eyes
Two wrinkly slits
Wondering how to
Confirm this.
Nov 27, 2013
Nov 27, 2013 at 1:18 AM UTC
Unconditional love:
1. noun; when you willingly pay the consequences for the actions of the one you love at the expense of your very existence without even knowing if he understands or can appreciate just how much those consequences have cost you;
(I wonder if you can get a second mortgage on your soul?)
also, 2. when you're able to smile at him even as you watch him take the left-over pieces of memories from your garage-sale of a life and put them in another woman's home, while the time that was supposed to be your final treasured moments and/or memories together, melts away like yesterday's makeup oozes down my clammy face on an unusually humid Palm Springs summer morning. And, even though you knew this was coming, and you tried and tried to warn him, you just smile and wonder in which bloated bag of odd but familiar, priceless knick-knacks your heart ended up in and hope he recognizes it if he ever accidentally runs across it.
(Today I learned the definition of unconditional love.)
Aug 19, 2014
Aug 19, 2014 at 5:37 PM UTC
***** ***** ***** ***** ***** and moan
about us drinking all the milk
that you didn't help pay for
and then drink each last beer
that you didn't help pay for
while the guy who bought them and got to drink none
is busting *** at work
making him able
to buy yet more things
for you to take for granted.
With friends like these..
By the way,
where's the last few months' rent?
You know, for all the months sense your parents stopped payin' it?
Oh, I'm sorry,
I didn't mean to assume
that you would assume some responsibility
like the rest of us
to whom you ceaselessly complain
about how un-fucking-fair
your spoiled ******* brat lifestyle is.
You can't even keep a plant
you want for personal reasons,
so how is it even fair to assume
you could get and keep a job?
How foolish of me!
At least you can roll a good joint
with **** you didn't acquire
and papers you didn't buy.
A ******* professional, you are.
By the way,
that soldering iron
you neglected to leave the house to pick up
would be ******* fantastic to have,
but even a walk half a mile to the post office
is too ******* strenuous
for you.
By the way,
do you want ants?
Because your heap of cans, bottles and dishes
is a great way to get ants,
but you get all vindictive and indignant
if anyone tries to clean "your space"
in my ******* house
you haven't even paid to live in
for many months.
While Money is far from everything,
and I wish it was a non-issue,
kindness and good intentions
will not even begin to pay
the bills, the mortgage
or these exorbitant Californian property taxes;
and, even if they did,
I fear you'd still fall
rather short.
Perhaps-
no, not even perhaps:
I've been far too nice far too long
to people who couldn't be ******
to show some ******* respect.
Nov 11, 2013
Nov 11, 2013 at 12:50 PM UTC
Caesar Has No Authority Over The Grammarians
(Caesar non supra grammaticos)
I am licensed to drive.
I am licensed to broke.
I am licensed to be birthed.
I am licensed to marry, divorce and someday I will be
coroner-permission"end" to die.
If I so choose, I can be state approved to cut your hair,
have my own business, weld, own a dog, panhandle, play tennis in Central Park, dance in my own cabaret, even commit suicide legally.
These United States were a refuge for my foreign born parents,
Bless you both for privileging me such,
you gifted me a country where my voice, clear and unashamedly,
unguarded can speak here unafraid, for our
Caesar has no authority over the grammarians.
Tho the IRS gonna come after me, and king phony Barack,
Gonna eavesdrop on my privacy,
As long as I can write my poetry free and clear, untaxed,
won't ever mortgage my soul to any government hack
I will carry my U.S. passport in my left pocket over my heart,
Till they take my freedom to speak away.
Then I will get a gun for free speech is worth dying for...
Aug 21, 2013
Aug 21, 2013 at 8:21 PM UTC
I read
a digital sign today,
it went something like this..
"Some mistakes are too ****** cool to make only once"
To which my head replied... 'or twice for that matter'.
I don't understand myself when everything goes my way
but I carry a big ten inch snit...
This morning I found
a silver ring and an empty bottle of
FIREBALL Cinnamon Whisky.
I have never drank the stuff but it sounds as bad as White Shark,
a hanged over in a glass vessel.
What a way to start the day, day two on the way to breaking the cigarette habit..
I have to on the count of they're killing me.. But I love my smoke.
Thank you God for the e-cigarette.. I love love, love you, oh thank you Lord!
And the puff-puff-pass doesn't help,
I have to buy stock in Halls Cough Drops,
I use them so much I've had to take a second mortgage out on the house that I will never own.
Anyway, the lady's gone to bed and I have music floatin' in my head.. was ****** most of the day
but you can't keep a good man down.
end © 2014
Jan 13, 2014
Jan 13, 2014 at 10:24 PM UTC
Oh, to be a tortoise
and never need a house.
No realtors, no mortgage,
never a call for
roofers, plumbers...
or ever to build a shelf!
Mar 3, 2012
Mar 3, 2012 at 12:01 PM UTC
My mom offers me a bowl of oatmeal she cooked at seven.
It is eight.
Sitting on the stove, it looks clumpy and cold —
a mash drowning raisins.
I pretend like I don’t see it.
But it calls my name as I start my day,
even though it looks repulsive
and I have avoided oatmeal since college.
I toast some bread.
She glances over the counter to see if I am paying attention —
a reflex from my childhood.
Because as a child,
my parents said I had selective attention. —
sometimes I listened and other times I didn’t.
When they got divorced, it got worse.
I was distracted by the bristle of my dad's 5 o’clock shadow
and the sigh in my mom's voice when they asked me
separately,
What time I needed to leave?
and
If all my stuff was packed?
But all I kept thinking was:
Is that all there is?
You get married, get divorced, and cart around your kids.
The thought of swallowing this is repulsive.
like leftover oatmeal, it stares me in the face.
I don't want it.
Most girls I know are raisins —
They already have their whole
wedding planned on Pinterest,
and their kids names picked out.
Everytime, I see engagements on FB,
I can't help but forsee divorce
and I wonder why people run for a
partner, kids, and a mortgage,
when in college their
ambitions were more.
I wonder when their
mid-life crisis will be,
or when they'll wake up
and want more than
9 to 5 to fulfill a lie
patriarchy put forth.
So I spread peanut butter on toast and
murmur, “I put the oatmeal in the fridge — someone will eat it.”
My mom puts her head down and finishes her coffee.
I eat my peanut butter sandwich.
I am stuck trying to answer an impossible question,
as she begins sentences like
"Once you get settled,
you'll want to look for someone..."
I tune out.
I don't have selective attention,
just the perception that
everyone is ignoring
this important question:
Is that all there is?
Sep 2, 2014
Sep 2, 2014 at 3:06 PM UTC
man leisured by the least obliging functioning
of what he terms “proper” manual endeavours of the biceps
will clearly resolve the matter being his last adventure that’s consumerism,
creating as many menial jobs as possible without the freedom
to enjoy hardish and the elements;
but of course man’s life will become easier,
but his adventure seeking will
simply become a zoology, a safari,
a safety netting - consumerism is hardly
an adventure, it’s a bicycle schematic:
one wheel produces, another wheel consumes;
most of the jobs under the hammer
were not menial, they became menial
only when heidegger’s hammer was involved
and the rebellion came when hammering nails
in turned into discussing philosophy;
it’s hard to commence an emergence of philosophy
window shopping, woman’s new kitchen area:
you know how many marriages i have seen fail
because of over-cooked pasta? too many.
you know how many glass houses i’ve seen constructed
by women peering into shop windows at mannequins?
too many. i sometimes think about sartre’s c.c.t.v. voyeurism
pervasive in english society alongside paedophilia,
and i guess the jigsaw parts fit... they do;
once dubbed the nation of shopkeepers,
now dubbed the nation of integrally ~foreign mortgage lenders
(nation of property developers / landlords... indeed,
once a nation of shopkeepers, now a nation of landlords):
or a nation re-evaluating communism
by importing slavs to talk of the ups and lows of communism
by trying to curb capitalistic egoism and turn it into a collective
without communism’s egoism father stalin:
or queen bee or queen ant china.
Jan 19, 2016
Jan 19, 2016 at 8:08 PM UTC