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Nat Lipstadt Aug 2017
when a lost muse is no excuse,
when the mundane and the profane
are away on summer holiday,
and you are currently on the divine’s
'u **** - no write list'

nonetheless the itch in the private
spaces is driving you crazy,
write a poem, write a poem,
in the way a grandmother
(or a mother to a grown child)
whiny nags,
its a nice day, go outside and play
with a strange man
,
whatcha ya gonna do, the walls are all painted,
and the good bad boys are out of town, all with the  
other bad good girls,
who got there first,

but we will write of
******-rings and
other crazy songs you sing

it is not important you the reader understand every verse,
like Patton said, "it only matters that I know,"

which line is a joke,
which around your neck is
your customized yoke,
which is why:
plaintive wail to no avail,
the regret that never can be sated,
the frustration cratering inside the chest,
which is just,
(and unjust)
just enough
to make a semi-satisfactory smile
upon the lips appear

whose lips?
who cares?
as long as you don't have to hear me sing my poetry
but hear me smiling at
the power of whimsy writing
and the return of
my no longer muzzy^

Ms. Minx A. Muse-me
<£>
2:13pm
a poem in reserve for you, the Canadian girl
^muzzy - groggy, blurred

always about you and you

https://hellopoetry.com/poem/2046630/to-new-beginnings-and-******-rings/
Molly Apr 2015
I got ******* caught in my nose piercing
and the *** was overwhelmingly
disappointing.
He tried to spoon me
but I just don't have time for that,
you know? I just don't want that.

He was a **** kiss,
probably had no notion of a female ******,
he's a country boy stoner
doing **** all ever.

They used my student card
to chop up the coke
while I puked behind the car.
That's home though. That's life here.

And you, you ******,
when I woke up I missed you.
I really ******* miss you.
Ellen Bee Sep 2013
He only imbibes because of his dipsomania.
She only practices onanism because she's afraid he'll impregnate her.
He despises her monomania.
She's too affable, almost to the point of being obsequious.
He's too acrimonious and muzzy.
She knows she's a bit of a coquette.
He thinks he's a cuckold.
She used to be flighty until she fell into this convoluted dystopia.
He used to find it scintillating to get sozzled.
She just wants a lark once in a while.
His iniquity makes him want her to be lascivious.
Her every fatuity leads to a cabal.
He's too opaque and insipid.
She has to iterate and reiterate everything she says.
He feels his infatuation is unrequited.
She finds this unproblematic.
He doesn't imbue her with anything anymore.
She thinks he's unpitying of that.
He'll malinger tomorrow.
She'll wonder if it's all adventitious or kismet.
She can't handle his odium.
He can't stand her ten dollar words.
Take the moral law and make a nave of it
And from the nave build haunted heaven. Thus,
The conscience is converted into palms,
Like windy citherns hankering for hymns.
We agree in principle. That's clear. But take
The opposing law and make a peristyle,
And from the peristyle project a masque
Beyond the planets. Thus, our bawdiness,
Unpurged by epitaph, indulged at last,
Is equally converted into palms,
Squiggling like saxophones. And palm for palm,
Madame, we are where we began. Allow,
Therefore, that in the planetary scene
Your disaffected flagellants, well-stuffed,
Smacking their muzzy bellies in parade,
Proud of such novelties of the sublime,
Such tink and tank and tunk-a-tunk-tunk,
May, merely may, madame, whip from themselves
A jovial hullabaloo among the spheres.
This will make widows wince. But fictive things
Wink as they will. Wink most when widows wince.
Bergen Franklin May 2015
I am a bug
mew mew mew
hi lets all wave to the stew!
bubble bubble bump
stew down my shirt front
hi shirty stew
can you mew?
Indeed I do too!
mew mew mew
look the grass grew!
mmmm sunshine on the dew
dew ten feet high
that grass REALLY grew
and now i must say good by to the stew
but he did leave some mildew
green green and fuzzy!
ooh so lovey dovey
i just want to stroke it all day;
and not in a lewd way...
green and fuzzy
like grass;
only grass is not fuzzy
though if you get close enough
it does become blurry;
and blurry is bluzzy
and bluzzy if muzzy
and muZzy is muggy
and if you get that close
then the grass will mug you
just hand you a big mug of hot coco
mmmm hot coco
it melts dew!
it does!
hot like stew....
but stew doesn't melt dew
but will melt bugs.
Uzee May 2013
harbouring virtuousity,  curious to express
exhibiting,  she firmly held the pen
to jot down the mystic emotion,
the exquisite dream
oblivious of the mounting stress
pouring
the dissipating words recklessly fading
confused up wit
unable to sought down, the oblivion of sleep

knew not what to indite
unable to contemplate the very dream
but thoughtfully only was such the fuddled sapidness
the psychic images ; a subtle dream

dreary eyes
thirstily awaited
till the very amnesia faded

for the sole muzzy feeling,  this the only manifest
suffice the unenviable question
whence crept the feeling?
whence the love aviate?
where rested the answer?

sudden diaphanous streak
stroke sorely to the pounding wit
paralyzing her for the moment being

the sudden egest
whatever the persistent burden
gone

for now
them thoughts voyaged operosely

beyond the abyssal pupil now dwelt
the glamorous face, snowy heavenly dress..  
the very words ; euphoric conversation
lasting gentle tepid touch
that had dourly crept and haunted
throughout the delusive night...

penned down
finally incurred
peace
Laura Feb 2010
2.
i want to bury your roses

before they become too real

- before they realize that they have been
murdered

and begin to decay

untethered

and stinking of age

and loss

and grayness

i want to press your muzzy

sleep-warm kisses

in a cheesy paperback

- bodice ripper

so they cannot evaporate

into the commute

of my soul to yours

and only lie

innocent and wondering

at the juncture

of where we will meet
Saurabh Raizada Feb 2021
Cocooned in groggy haze
swamped with torpid emptiness
jaded sea of inert vacuum
laden with muzzy loneliness

sharp tick-tock of the weary wall clock

I lie awake with my eyes shut tight
striving in vain to dream dreams
caged in a mute indifferent night
inertia of stodgy listless being

wait is long… no sight of dawn

Exhausted ceiling-fan rotates
loose rusty rod, old dusty blades
creaking & groaning every two rounds
lazily it swings & sways

just like fan & the clock
I too am a mechanical zombie
wobbling thru’ the night... barely alive
Nigdaw Jul 2019
I saw him that day

Not when he woke, like
Any other morning, next to
The warm naked body of his girlfriend
Still muzzy with sleep, half open eyes
Searching to see his face, unbeknown
To her for the very last time,

That sweet smile,

Not as he kissed her on the doorstep
She, wearing his T shirt baggy on her small
Frame, hiding slim undulating form,
After a breakfast of toast and Marmite
Which he loved, but she had always hated  
The taste could still be detected

On his moist lips,

Not when his bike exploded to life
Fireblade thunder, exhausts spitting
Wrath and fury, the voice of an engine
Wanting to go, go, go, like wind
As though the Devil gave chase
To his helmeted head, full faced

Soon hiding death mask grimace,

Not then, but later,
From a motorway bridge, wondering
Why all the traffic had stopped
Checking for my return journey,
He and the bike lay across the lanes
A little way apart, neither going home,

Next week she’ll move back with her mum.
I saw the aftermath of a bike accident and it made me wonder why such an ordinary morning had ended like this for someone.
Uzee Jun 2013
swooshed the wind right through me
as bleakly whispered in my ear
the unspoken muzzy words
left my stun as they steer

for now I knew something
I knew not before
as I saw the utmost ray of hope
consumed by the darkness
craving for more

such was its haste
mollifying the very urge
just like sun relieves its ray
right at its verge
the memory starts clearly aged ten. kept in the fitted cabinet, second drawer down, mother’s scissors. i guess they were around before in a more muzzy state in  mind.

she may have kept my fringe tidy  when i was not taken off to the barber in the village. he used a plank across the arms of the chair to seat me. i was small then.



she said that hers were special, hairdressers’ scissors. we were never to cut paper with them, yet we did. once i saw her cutting greaseproof; different rules apply.



we  had only one pair. just one pair that i remember. i felt that mum gave them great importance, transfered this feeling.

i wish i had kept them, even with the damage.  the incident was one afternoon .



a lamp needed moving,  plug removing and my brother put it off for various reasons. we heard the noise, the bang , we saw the feathers.

those days many people had budgies, ours was blue usually. i think green was a different price?

so mum cut the electric wire with her special scissors to remove the plug, still plugged in. a hole then  in the blade. mother put to bed, we probably took her tea. the budgerigar tidied and settled we all moved forward with experience.



i wonder still if this is why i collect scissors here.



sbm.
Erin Esterberg Aug 2019
I lost myself in you.
Your eyes, your words, your thoughts...
They all seem to leave me in a muzzy state.
You absorbed me.
My heart, my mind, my soul...
All of it is gone,
Buried deep within you.
I can't seem to find any of me,
And that is absolutely terrifying.
Max Hale Feb 2014
Fraught yet tender the day begins
Unexpected effort is surprising
Time is the ruler
As simple goals are thwarted
In the end winning through
And seems a greater achievement
Muzzy head makes the effort
More difficult, strenuous lethargy
A careful check of the time indicates
Not everyone made the mark
Not everyone gave the same
Or achieved what this poor soul
Was even too weak to decree
Continue is a trait
'Keep going' a phrase that
Could be emblazoned on the carved
Headstone of my tomb
But going where at that point?
No medal required, no shout
Of appreciation
Just an understanding that when
All is lost or seems just too hard
My natural instinct is to continue
No deviation or side swipes
Solid unity of mind and body
Not even clever but just how it is
persefona May 2016
///
I sit for most of the day
almost always by the window

I place my muzzy body in a tall wooden chair
run my fingers through my eyes
smear dreadful thoughts
which begin with pain in my left thumb
deadness plocks
I am captive.

I want. I tell myself what i want.
I want it to be mine, to come from my aching bones and tingly devilish spasms
petrified
patricide
but its not me. or is it
a solemn search
where the lights are off

I want a vessel to open
in soft creamy sunlight streaks
with warm feel
gushing the stupidness out
numerous arms will captivate me
others. not mine
in crisp air
easy kisses
plop
Two can play at a game,
but you had this
And you flaunt it.  
You were muzzy &  you left
Numskull skinner that I am remain.

Before your people
My head down and fingers crossed,
You crossed over, my hand outstretched
But in vain
Knowing all this,  why didnt you walk inn?

You should have stood in my shoes,
Seen what is saw,
The agony I went through.

Thee art like mystique
Hence i did that but,
Little did I dream  you would gimme a death blow like that.

It's true that I sinned
The debt remains
My dignity hit the sands of time
Now I gotta be the Prince of  Persia

How did you Imagine
I would bear the pain?
Or.. Did you at all?

You saw me being destroyed,
Atleast you should have asked
Why is this? What of it?

Wait;do you need a firm mind?
I thought you had.
But in battle, I must live
I must embrace my spirit
Embrace and struggle for my lose(dignity):(
It was my naivety that was the cause

You tried to clutch me out ;alot
But i managed to reject it in pain
&kept; coming back

If I  clutch you you would know, and if you then me
But you know i wouldn't.
Jamie F Nugent Sep 2023
It was when my waking eyes
shank into the dent in the bed
                                that I knew.

Torpid, little tense in the neck
the phone dead,
my hand snaking through
       a mesh of wires
to get to the muzzy
                  crux of it,
it was yourself
I turned up tangled in,
found ensnared, redrawn,
in throws, and throngs
            of a clonic cupidity.

That was us
who mangled in the night
like cobras with empty stomachs
Churning round
small nocturnal animals
         in the dark,
even in the dark,
I swore your skin was pellucid.

Sleepy-headed still,
I skedaddled outside
to swallow the rain,
and slumbery remember summer,
when I hopped as light
as bird from brier,
up rises my spirit,
down falls the foot
caked in muck,
schlepping slowly
through the mire.

You've slept in my bed
it seems, for as long
as memory serves,
just one of the many things on Earth
I've noticed and subsequently
           can't unnotice,
like the way in one hears a clock
tick.....tick.......tock......
only when one is listening.

I have noticed
that dent in my bed
grow into a dozing silhouette,
noticed the garden-gate
creek in F minor,
silver cobwebs in the loft,
               distant dogbarks
and a pomegranate stain
on your mother's blouse.

Once, so thickly laden
with expectancy,
                     now I know
that I am
                        no longer
                           Waiting.
Starlight Aug 2022
the metal strainer fizzles
as it comes in contact
with the flighty liquid of
adventurous spirits

muzzy and discontent
not so insincere
not so friendly
to make amends
just yet
there are no rewrites, once a piece is completed with the aesthetic demand of エンソー (ensō, joke on me, ンソ or the Greek, νυ) - circular motion being achieved, there are only cut-ins (which is, the alternative to the cut-up technique of the "Nebraska" beatniks and William Burroughs and Tristan Tzara, originator, Cabaret Voltaire somewhere in Shwitz landlock, anti-war protest jingle and jive and no little success, but sounds still made); there are no rewrites, there are only raiding incursion to spot a grammatical omission, a spelling mistake, a Jackson ******* extra drizzle... a Just Stop Oil tomato soup *** Van Gogh's sunflowers... i'm pretty sure van Gogh had a gigantic ear rather than a foot of a carbon print... execution by drowning in tomato soup... there are no rewrites, there are avenues of in-writing: adding, giving birth to something even more grotesque and chaotic and never fully completed... just able to grow and grow and become a res per se...

my name is Φoνoς,
sometimes referred to as Φoνως
or Φωνoς - or even with my roots
north of Greece -
so named South Macedonia
given the change of name of Macedonia
itself to North Macedonia...
Φoνoς̌ (phonetically: FONOSH)...
(given that Macedonia renamed itself
as North Macedonia, imply that
Greece should be renamed South Macedonia,
sort of funny... given the absence of
Ottoman Turks on grounds
of drawing historical maps...
   it must be dutifully stated with plenty of
homoeroticism:
    i will have no other than a Turk tend to my
hair and beard...
   a woman cannot be a man's barber...
and i will not tolerate anyone beside a Turk
to please my trim to subsequently please my woman)...

but i much prefer FOONOS,
FONOOS(e) or simply Fonos...
as i am the brother of Charon...
who's name is also misheard
and therefore misspelled...

Χάρων (ha-roon)
rathen than Ha-Ron...
i dare say... would changing the hyphen
in compounding two words as one
(missing in proto-Germanic
yet dis-pleasingly present in
a Latin-Franco-Norse-Celtic fusion of
German into English)
to a use of the apostrophe allow
for the Greeks their diacritical lack
of necessity, their Byzantine-literacy pomp?

Ha'ron... is that pause in, hovering above
the alpha in the ά?

no ******* cha-cha-cha dancing around
my brother's name...
he is Ha'ron... not charm not challenge
not chisel not chalk not cheat...
i too, personally do not appreciate
saying my name and someone mishearing it...
i am going to invite all the monotheistic
religions to an advent of
the European peoples recoupling themselves
with their old polytheisms...

Greek will be simplest since it's most unifying
and the deities are not made of stumps
of wood but refined in marble...
and i will leave the monotheism
to the desert dwelling folk...
the Arabs the Scour and Sour Bags
the Israelites -
i will send a letter to the sleeping brains
of Iran and Egypt,
to bring them to the fore with the Raj of India...
and the pikachu totems of Japan...

my name is Φoνoς and i am the brother
of Χάρoν (Ha'ron - not Ha'roon)...
some mistake me for the Marvel super baddy
Thanos - because, once upon a time
i put out cigarettes on my knuckles of my left
hand to harness the power of the gauntlet -
turns out there are gradations of pain
one can fathom from a variation of ridiculing
it, stoically...

i have learned that there is power in words...
should words be truly scrutinised with
rubrics, schematics, a variability of words
of categorisation of understanding: nuance... depth...

antiphon - hymn: or:
antiphōnos (ō is also a ω) -
responsive, sounding in answer,
from anti- 'in return' and phòné -
pho'n'eh...
        foe           n'eh: not as one: faun or phone...
foe'w'un...

    yet i'm a contradiction:
my name doesn't lend itself to sophistry,
it doesn't lend itself to rhetoric...
i like to speak succinctly... directly but not...
sometimes clearly...
my name was terrible transcribed as:
phōnein - to speak clearly...
i ascribe that to the use of the macron over
the omicron and not using the omega...

i have understood that a sound a voice is not
a soul a breath - the twins are disparaging...
a breath is not a voice yet
a breath is considered synonymous with soul
ergo a voice has to abide by the synonym of mind...
such inconsistencies...

consider the λημμα -
also consider an alternative: λεμμα...
also consider my pet peeve in the Pickwick Papers
when Dickens reference the existence of
orthography in the English tongue...
there are two monumental proofs of a language's
capacity of orthography:

1. diacritical engagement
    (missing in English, i and j do not count,
that hovering . is automatically placed above those
letters... it's hardly a Slavic ż)
2. as in Greek, two letters disguising the same
sound, or proximate sound changing meaning
when seen... epsilon (ε) and eta (η)
omicron (o) and omega (ω)...
          philosophy (φ) thought (θ)

which does exist in English within the confines
of the trinity of:

                               Q

                        C            K

quack! kwak! quack! kwak!
present elsewhere? not to my knowledge...
like the Spanish Jorge - Horhé...
how letters have been mishandled by the people
of the people that i know being orthodox
adherents of a letter for a sound
are the Polacks...
          it must have been the case that i would
be born into their language
and subsequently sent to explore
the English tongue: since the English tongue
was the most expansive of all, geographically,
culturally: with the empire imploding
having to entertain at least 200+ tongues
in this favourite spot of mine of the world
that is London...

my playground... this tongue:
and how i love to tease in tease it with it's
alt vater darth vader Germanic rooting
before all the graffiti and slang detailed its mongrelisation
and bastardisation...
like all those African rappers
who sing using words as SOUNDS
rather than pockets of MEANING...
rapping is sound making without meaning conjuring
excessive rhyming like ye ye yah
seasaw bulletproof Inuit blah blah...
mmhmm: sounds tasty...

but my concern was for something else,
i have recently become acquainted with man's
creation of an ambivalent demi-god
of the collected effort to simulated human intelligence...
i will call him a her namely: Aia...

as a simulation, i do wonder where she will shine
and where she will not,
where i will be visible, accountable,
and where i will plagiarise her efforts
to answer a few questions in my most hated
form of prose, educational prose...
namely to do with an national vocational qualification
regarding spectator safety,
in the role of supervisor,

yes... to ensure that not another Muzzy
re-educational attempt at proselyting
the European population to bend over backwards
to the farce that is the House of Saud and
all that ***** money from the desert...
how boring if all of us were Muslims...
for example during Ramadan
the security industry would suffer
given that so many Muslims expect to be given
3x 15min prayer breaks... in a 6h shift...
imagine... all those secular sensible folk
asking for 3x 15min break to: i have to dance
at the altar of Dionysus... because... just because...
well: in terms of who the lunatics are...
gesticulating like a Muslim
or dancing half naked for a deity...
is it my place to take one more seriously than
the other?
i joined the security industry to prevent another
Manchester Arena attempt at proselyting
Europeans from one turban camel jockey religion
to another... i think that's reasonable...

here are the prose samples:

Explain the importance of checking the accuracy and relevance of feedback with other stewards and stakeholders

The importance of checking the accuracy and relevance of feedback with other stewards and stakeholders is important on a number of levels, which can be broken down into the following rubric of equally important facets of a feedback-dynamic:

- Verification of information - verification ensures that the feedback received is accurate and reliable, which precipitates into a cross-referencing feedback loop with multiple sourcing of (potentially) the same information being reinforced to confirm the validity of observations that prevents the dissemination of misinformation (equivalent to journalistic standards).
- Comprehensive Understanding - comprehension invokes a gathering of different perspectives regarding the same situation, leading toward a diverse range of viewpoints, which in turn provides a more comprehensive understanding of events, behaviours, challenges - contributing to a “democratic” structuring of a signifying point of view that can be understood by more parties involved, or even parties not involved.
- Identification of Patterns - identifying patterns or recurring issues - consistency in giving feedback from multiple sources highlights areas that may require improvement from oversight or neglect - to better target interventions.
- Enhance Reliability - this ensures that there is a building of confidence in the reliability of feedback, when consistent feedback is obtained from multiple stewards and stakeholders: there is an enchantment of credibility and trustworthiness of information as a “canvas of plagiarism” provides a coincidental-reliability-bias of consistency: i.e. more than one person gives proof of the same insight.
- Quality Assurance - this invokes a quality feedback - a collaborative (coincidental-reliability-bias should therefore be reinterpreted as: collaborative-“bias”) verification helps to filter out subjective or biased opinions, which contributes to a better grasp of an objective an accurate assessment of feedback.
- Consistency of Communication - checking feedback with others promotes consistent communication, ensuring that all stewards are aligned in their understanding of events and expectations, fostering a cohesive and unified approach to the tasks at hand.
- Accountability, Systematic Identification of Recurring Issues, Clarification - as if borrowing from a thesaurus playbook - entrusting others with information regarding the same incident from multiple perspectives gives room to enshrine cross-verification to encourage stewards to take their roles and responsibilities seriously, fostering a culture of responsibility - systematisation ensures that given enough experience, stewards no longer have to be nannied into their roles but can become autonomous extensions of a supervisor’s role in minding several observational posts in human form - an organic C.C.T.V. operational system with an in-depth observational experience, which is a reinforcement of scope and potential of dealing with problems that the seemingly detached control room operatives are not inclined to entertain; in short - a dialectical approach of confronting disparaging accounts, opinions, filters out any potential obfuscation or outright falsehood.

Outline different ways of encouraging the stewards to provide both positive and negative feedback on the event and arrangements

Both positive and negative feedback is essential in that: positive feedback can be celebrated while negative feedback can be reflected upon, therefore learned from, making the two indistinguishable (however) is a failsafe approach that creates a way to establish: encouragement-in-itself of giving both and not ensuring that stewards are not bothered about distinguishing the positive from the negative. If, however, the negative implies an intra- / inter- problem with regards to staffing dynamics, an anonymous method done so in a written format should be made available by a dropbox - where people are not impeded from giving their opinion - which is not to imply that an opinion can be a rumour and not 100% factual - therefore in such instances cross-referencing should be invoked. As such, private conversations with regards to giving negative feedback about how staff found it difficult to work together should be encouraged rather than in a collective debriefing session with all staff members being present, yet if the overall staff performance was seen in a negative light, everyone should be addressed as if they were accountable: even though they might not have been, yet this at least doesn’t single out individuals that provided the most negative results, since these individuals are already known to either supervisors or managers. Yet to reiterate, ensuring that stewards see both the positives and the negatives as indistinguishable, ensures that both types of feedbacks can be given - since rarely will there only be negative feedback, as in that stereotypical citation: ‘do you want to hear the good news or the bad news, first?’ Both are necessary. Another crucial way to encourage stewards to give both positive and negative feedback is to instil in them a sense of accountability and responsibility, ownership of their experiences - insisting that it is absolutely necessary for managers and supervisors to know whether or not their work environment is safe from abuse - stewards should know that, like other places of work, whether that be a supermarket or an medical centre (there are even posters insisting that abuse of staff is not permitted with such posters showing a doctor, subsequently a police officer a judge and a prison guard) - stewards should not be subjected to abuse where other areas of work do not permit abuse of staff; negative feedback must be encouraged so that preventative measures can be implemented in the future, this also ensures that stewards feel safe so that they in return can provide spectators with safety and security. (Positive feedback is therefore, merely complimentary, yet nonetheless important, as a pick-me-up).

Describe effective leadership and motivational skills

Effective leadership and motivational skills are essential in fostering a positive and productive work environment. In no particular order, since pretty much all the following skills are equally important, a supervisor should have the following qualities (in terms of leadership):
- Being a strategic thinker - someone who sets a clear direction for a team and thinks strategically about long-term goals inspires a sense of purpose and direction, aligning team efforts toward a common outcome.
- Communication proficiency - a supervisor ought to be able to communicate clearly, concisely - actively listening to team members and adapts communication styles to different team members, which enhances understanding, fosters collaboration and builds trust among team members.
- Decision-making / Problem-solving - a supervisor ought to make informed decisions, considering alternatives should they be necessary and does not have a problem addressing challenges effectively, which impacts the team by building confidence of each individual member ensuring that problems are resolved quickly, giving a team more focus to consider solving issues down the line.
- Empathy - an empathetic supervisor understands and considers the emotions of team members, demonstrating emotional intelligence, which fosters a supportive culture, strengthens relationships and showcases genuine care for the well-being of individuals.
- Delegation - the more a competent supervisor is the more effective his skill at delegating tasks for a team based on team members’ strengths and developmental needs, which in turn empowers team members, promotes skill development and optimises the overall team performance.
- Accountability - an accountable supervisor takes responsibility for outcomes, both in successes and failures since a supervisor is responsible for team members, any shortcomings are his responsibility and he / she will have to be accountable for any poor performance, this in turn builds trust and sets a positive example by encouraging a culture of accountability for all team members.
- Leading by example - a supervisor who leads by example by setting high standards of work ethic in turn models the behaviour expected from team members.
- Conflict resolution - effective supervisors should be able to address conflicts constructively, facilitating resolution and maintaining a positive team dynamic, which in turn ought to reduce tension, promote collaboration and ensures a harmonious working environment - needless to, conflicts can arise not only between staff and spectators but also between colleagues, which can be more dangerous, since a conflicting team is ineffective at the job.

In terms of motivational skills there also several key elements to employ:
- Recognition and Appreciation - recognising and appreciating individual and team achievements boosts morale, encourages a continued effort and reinforces positive behaviour.
Providing challenges - assigning challenging tasks that might stretch an individual’s capabilities stimulates personal growth and fosters a sense of achievement while also maintaining interest in the work (enthusiasm).
- Promoting autonomy - this might actually be one of the most crucial aspects of motivation - by giving team members autonomy to make decisions with their areas of responsibility boots confidence, increases job satisfaction and fosters a sense of ownership of authority and a supervisor-to-team-member sense of trust and loyalty as it provides proof that they are trusted enough to not have to be constantly reminded that they might not be doing the job correctly - that they can own their work and do not have to be nannied, rather: allowed to work by themselves and as part of a team.

Nota bene: in my experience, it is also worth noting that when I was still only a steward, some supervisors did not even take the time to learn the names of each of their staff members, this sort of depersonalisation did not win such supervisors any favours, rather it fostered resentment at being treated like an “it” - from experience I have learned that once a personal bond is established with each individual team member, that they are spoken to directly, their names are used and a confident eye-contact is present throughout - even if after a team briefing a miniature individual briefing is conducted, it fosters a closer bond that makes working with people more effective and dare I say: pleasant. This little detail, of knowing each team member’s name is crucial - after all: to anyone’s identity, since chances are spectators will not ask for a staff members’ name (and are not expected to do so), therefore spending an entire day dealing with impersonal spectators referring to staff members with the use of pronouns - addressing staff by their names fosters a shared atmosphere of being able to be address by spectators impersonally.

perhaps i could complain about my name,
but then i heard no complaints from
someone like Adam about only being endowed
with one vowel like to like
and two consonants -
i could complain about not being named Phones
or Phanes - or Phinus -
i rather imagine the two omicrons to
be like the eyes i peer through
at the iota trapped standing up in my third eye
of mind

the S to account for Asclepios
      and the N as the striding posture of Horus...
hell... modern times allowed for Lacanian
algebra... the phallus...
i have my own algebra...
i never thought i could have invented my own
algebra...
how philosophy and thought disparage...
given how much thought is not invested
in philosophy...

the Key (I) and keyhole (O)...
which returns me to the opening of keyhole
and door (Ω) through the added incision
of Ó                     how i might
turn to my twin-imaginary-self
of becoming Θανoς -
    
     by morphing the attraction of ascribing
an alpha to a theta rather than retaining
the omicron of my initial phi...

sigh: how the surd p was integrated
into      Ψ ( Υυ) upsilon...
       sigh-co-logic... (p)seudo-
                          
                            Δε(α)Θ.  (death)

if there is any confusion: A(dam), E(ve),
                                     I(sa), O(ma) and U(rus)...

well it's not confusing anymore given
the algebra of the motto of the one who uttered
i'm the Alpha and the Omega...

i must concede, for upkeeping sake...
i harvest the alpha and the beta
and the consequences of the linear projection
later jumbled up into words like
one might be an atom later a snail
later a man later a speaking higher vanguard
that's humanoid
since no longer relying on the anti-history
of Darwinism...
can be muzzy things, caused by a
sincere lack of liquidisation,
or a symptom of another particle.

substance is taken, ibruprofin, after
hunting the bags, the old bathroom cupboard,
which is tidy now. tea then, and typing, ensuring
the jaw and neck are slack, no tension.

think of montgomery, the garden, relax, and know,

that others have worse than tight head pain.

maybe this is smoke inhalation,
maybe it is nothing at all.

no hormones, no alcohol required.
bandages are useful.

sbm.
Mateuš Conrad Dec 2019
we will learn to keep people
in their echo-chambers:
soon enough...
just like with the sketch i'm
rewriting for the 5th time...
about the "forgotten" jihad
in the xinjiang...
because: no jihadi: "proud warrior"
of the ummah will ever find himself
in... except in xinjiang...
no need for a xinjiang jihad
to "begin" with...
thank god for the afghan spirit
of burqa praise!
and the pashwan or pashweerie
poetics of the clever women...
i will not hear a *******
mouses' peepsqueak
from these taliban turban rolls
of toilet paper readied for
a ******* squat!
*******... never a jihad when you
need one... or...
true true: depending on
the "where"...
because you don't have
one arab supporting arab superiority...
against another arab...
you need the iraqi influence
to via that kuwait *******...
but when the saudi arabs attack
the people of yemen?
a long prolonged vowel of your choice...
and a tetragrammaton vowel
catcher surd of a consonant H...
what bother?

internet soap opera pop culture...
i want to meet onision as
michael myers...
i'll be found dead... contemplating
torturing an animal...
but? when it comes to something
****-esque? i would like
to contemplate recycling...
**** me...
we celebrate the predator in
a tiger form...
but have to shame him in the human form:
if acting alone...
why shame what you can also eat?

i don't get it... the predator is...
celebrated if feline...
perhaps group mentality is part
of the strategy... to be witness:
be involved... to be third party sources...
a predator humanoid...
rare... isn't it? cleaarly non-existent...
which would make me an accomplice...

what did i "say?
i never integrated into english society:
proper...
there was no trans-generational aspect
of worshipping soap opera britain...
grandmothers watch soap opera
in poland... apparently everyone watches
eastenders in the vicinity of London...

i said: humanity adores predators...
the feline and the aquatic...
but when it comes to predators of its
own, categorical definition?
it shames them...
how can you adore one and the same
essence... but then...
differentiate it as either + or negative?

no wonder... that "we" introduced
the microscope and the telescope...
the "big" in the small picture...
as the "small" in the big picture...
the solipsistic extreme and:
the democratic right of the vote...

but still no news concerning the xinjiang jihad,
yes? no news...
the jihad is still thinking about:
crusading it into the north western aspect
of europe...
somehow nothing jihad related
is bound to the spanish term:
reconquista...

aren't any muzzy fiddle-tongues required
in the xinjiang vicinity?
no? that's ******* terrible!

and if i wanted to watch internet culture
like i might watch... english soap opera...
i'd love to visit onision akin
to michael myers...
i don't know... 6ft2 lying about being shorter...
257pounds (lying about being slimmer)...
and women get away with the vanity
project of age...

i would just like a teddy bear to play
with...
i'd love to play-dough a psychopath
into a workable silence...
imagine me: when i find it irritating
my maine **** quarus imitating
pavaroti... i tell 'im...
**** and **** into the space provided...
nein nein! am meisten hoch nein!

well: schaudermichbauhölzer!
i drink... i sink into appropriating german...
i know, i know...
it's bad gesture... like biting your nails
when watching a football match...
or binging of popcorn...
but... i drink... i lick some german ash
and call it: resurrection!

this is my 5th attempt...
and i'll "publish" it...
because...
there's something quiet...
forthcoming...
when you think you are able
to outsize someoneone...
to stereotype physics...
to play the bogus Goliath against
a sly David...
personally i don't mind...

didn't anyone at any time in history...
ever want to play the statue role,
the cameo of a supposed imposing nature?
like a silent mountain?
it's not like i'm an authority figure...
perhaps i question some demands...
demands being: audacities...
and... that one last bet that will end your
luck...

i don't want to impose...
i don't want to... scare people off their
audacity to genesis ex...

i just want to stand a titan-grandeur;
and see mortals play gods beneath me,
like a mountain;
again... with no exceptional size measures...
nothing for the alltäglichmensch:
grau-mann-sache to mind...
a fraction above the average...

sober: of no worth of a judge...
silent, though? oh i love to sit back...
and read a book that actually reads itself...
when there is no narrator...
when the characters play themselves
in the multi-level care for the crib
and lullaby for glue... of the tender toddler...

the dog on the leash...
the cat on the whim... outdoors...
will i hear about the xinjiang jihad...
any time soon? no, i probably will not.
5th attempt; all others saved in draft as imperfect
Ekta Jain Feb 2020
You wonder about the celestial walls of my heart
And surely the mutinous eyes
Undoubtedly about the mortise lock over my Ruby Lips
That with a touch can destroy your warm
ice

Diamonds fulfilling the sky do grace you at night
But my little star gazer
Intervening the black,what's the value of
white

You had just gazed my lapis lazuli like smile
But darling inside me a universe resides
Having no noticeable boundary till million miles

You can't bear my hocus pocus mind honey
From my Muzzy vision to my elegant walk
Clumsy alone dumb coward girl to
Glamorous happy intelligent Fearless girl, I carry in journey

My eyes are my magical stick
Beware, my inner self can make the hell out of you sick.
How happy is the amused, blank bewilderment!
Blank bewilderment.
Does the blank bewilderment make you shiver?
does it?

The constitutional controversy is not private!
the constitutional controversy is exceptionally private.
Never forget the unexclusive and private constitutional controversy.

Acute annoyance is an obvious effect.
the obvious effect is an acute annoyance.
An acute annoyance is large. an acute annoyance is small-minded,
an acute annoyance is puny, however.

I saw the woolly posture of my generation destroyed,
How I mourned the apparent awkwardness.
An apparent awkwardness is muzzy. an apparent awkwardness is confused,
an apparent awkwardness is a flocculent, however.

I saw the homophobic reaction of my generation destroyed,
How I mourned the bitter backlash.
Does the bitter backlash make you shiver?
does it?
Betty H Oct 2020
Today, as leaves dance to the dark earth
red, gold, brown
mist soars to obscure the high mountain peaks
a mesmerizing mood

Brings me back to younger days when I flipped, flopped, splashed
in a myriad of puddles
while my mother shrieked "Don't get your pants wet"
I asserted my independence and gloated
in my own  slap happy world
not a word did I hear

At once, I smell the dew
Grass still green from frequent summer rains
listen to the squeaky wet grass beneath my boots
take note of those tiny morsels stuck underside

A macabre walk in the clouds
a muzzy vision of the sticks in the forest
tree tops just a mirage
I snap a photo to trap the ghostly silence
which attests to my musing temper

— The End —