"negotiations" poems
I thought about you for a while today,
Imagined all the things I’d like to hear you say.
You said many things I wanted to be true,
And when I fantasized I said, “I love you, too.”
If only I could feel the things you feel,
Are you just a friend, or will more be revealed?
I know I’m not the perfect specimen.
But I love you now, and I will love you till the end.
And when you think of me,
Remember me with kindness.
If you go away,
Please, close the door with tenderness.
And all you are,
Is everything you could have been to me.
I know you would,
If only you could love me.
I sat in silence with my thoughts today.
And then I practiced all these things you’ll hear me say.
I never knew I had such feelings inside.
I would have said before, if it weren’t for my pride.
The truth is more like that I fear too much,
And do women like their men to be tough?
I wonder maybe if there could be a chance,
If I am bolder, so I’m here to show my stance.
And when you think of me,
Remember me with kindness.
If you go away,
Please, close the door with tenderness.
And all you are,
Is everything you could have been to me.
I know you would.
If only you could love me.
I knew that if I wore my feelings on my sleeve,
There was a chance that things would change and you would leave.
One in a million lucky few can feel like this.
I want to thank-you.
I love you.
You’re worth the risk.
My heart’s not broken, but it’s fortified.
You’ve taught me lessons, you brought joy to my life.
You’ve shown me kindness, and when to let go.
And lots of other things, I think you should know.
I have to tell you all these words I’ve said
Have just been swimming loudly ‘round in my head.
I didn’t mean to put you on the spot.
I am in love, even though you’re probably not.
And when you think of me,
Remember me with kindness.
If you go away,
Please, close the door with tenderness.
And all you are,
Is everything you could have been to me.
I know you would.
If only you could love me.
I knew that if I wore my feelings on my sleeve,
There was a chance that things would change and you would leave.
One in a million lucky few can feel like this.
I want to thank-you.
I love you.
You’re worth the risk.
Was writing for a musician friend, a guitarist, to see what he could do. Negotiations are on the table. Lyrics completed dec. 29, 2015. All copywrites reserved by the writer.
Jun 12, 2015
Jun 12, 2015 at 6:49 PM UTC
Under silver wing
San Francisco's towers sprouting
thru thin gas clouds,
Tamalpais black-breasted above Pacific azure
Berkeley hills pine-covered below--
Dr Leary in his brown house scribing Independence
Declaration
typewriter at window
silver panorama in natural eyeball--
Sacramento valley rivercourse's Chinese
dragonflames licking green flats north-hazed
State Capitol metallic rubble, dry checkered fields
to Sierras- past Reno, Pyramid Lake's
blue Altar, pure water in Nevada sands'
brown wasteland scratched by tires
Jerry Rubin arrested! Beaten, jailed,
coccyx broken--
Leary out of action--"a public menace...
persons of tender years...immature
judgement...pyschiatric examination..."
i.e. Shut up or Else Loonybin or Slam
Leroi on *** gun rap, $7,000
lawyer fees, years' negotiations--
SPOCK GUILTY headlined temporary, Joan Baez'
paramour husband Dave Harris to Gaol
Dylan silent on politics, & safe--
having a baby, a man--
Cleaver shot at, jail'd, maddened, parole revoked,
Vietnam War flesh-heap grows higher,
blood splashing down the mountains of bodies
on to Cholon's sidewalks--
Blond boys in airplane seats fed technicolor
Murderers advance w/ Death-chords
Earplugs in, steak on plastic
served--Eyes up to the Image--
What do I have to lose if America falls?
my body? my neck? my personality?
June 19, 1968
4.5k
I encourage you to abandon your faith
imagine the uncondonable
do the unpardonable
and rest in the arms of father mountain
I encourage you to go beyond your thoughts
appeal to your animalistic self
let go of your inhibitions
and tear me up in bed
I encourage you to try the impossible
reach the corners of your body
where pleasure is indigenous
where there will never be colonization
I encourage you to learn a new language
to not be patriotic
and worship your own flesh
resist majoritarian temptation
and dig an altar to yourself
I encourage you to love me
without strings, with no chains,
corral me, make me struggle,
and deep your soul within my veins
love me whole
sin fragmentations
love me across borders
without concessions
with negotiations
and complications
I encourage you to love.
Jan 19, 2014
Jan 19, 2014 at 2:59 AM UTC
A letter of intent, so clear, addressing me
written in exquisite feminine form,
in the script of love, her eyes encrypted;
only I'll be entitled to read it, none else,
and undertake the next delicate move.
It comes gliding towards me, isn't it magic?
Nothing unexpected this , in fact two pair of eyes
for a cool one week,did negotiations in intense silence
pregnant with desire, culminating in love,
the scent of love
elates, it's in the morning air, binds us together, wafts!
Yes, you are the wild flower, the honeybee is here.
Jan 21, 2016
Jan 21, 2016 at 12:23 PM UTC
Clean title.
Low miles.
Everything works.
No negotiations.
Cash only.
Mar 24, 2015
Mar 24, 2015 at 4:04 PM UTC
Everywhere there were black nights
You came with the dawn;
Bringing reason to live,
See an unnecessary life ..
My only boat that was lost at sea
Edge brought to you in any way ..
There is some connection with you,
there is some connection with you,
How do I know, what I know about it,
there is some connection with you..
what is to be said now,
I have to live,
forgetting the heavens,
taking refuge in your arms..
It obliged me while going
A passing moment fulfilled my wishes
I got a view of yours, got a sparkling star
As if I got a sign of luck..
Taking some reconciliation
Angry desires,
You've come to silence
Negotiations to complete consultations,
My only boat that was lost at sea
Edge brought to you in any way ..
Jul 1, 2015
Jul 1, 2015 at 2:27 AM UTC
It’s always Monday here with the hustle and bustle of the boisterous marketplace,
Negotiations carried out over loudspeakers and hailers,
It’s never without a fight.
It’s always Monday here with the cries of half-dead swans and suffocating dolphins,
Collateral damage is a word used loosely,
Now that the main guy is here.
Last night was a good night, befitting a Sunday’s catch,
Rest is only for the lost and lonely on a lovely Sunday night.
They brought them in, lined up in rows of ten,
Nothing on but a white singlet and pretty underpants.
They cowered in fright and tried to huddle,
The whips flew as freely as the flies that came to meddle.
It was not long till your turn came
Pretty as a rosebud
One man claimed
Smooth as a rose’s petal
Another one gleamed.
It was all too real for you and you fell dead, in silence
It’s always Monday here, someone said,
She was so pretty...
As they carried you on their back
to dump you in the truck
to throw away the body
just outside the city.
It’s always Monday here, said the man shaking his head,
as he went to the playground to fish
for another haul of fresh blood and good meat!
It’s always Monday here...
Someone said...
Apr 21, 2014
Apr 21, 2014 at 7:53 AM UTC
Strike, Strike, Strike
The multitude of voices having might
These were Union Workers shedding some light
It was the Brotherhood Union of any Local being powerful
The Union Workers are all resourceful
They are working at a large industrial plant
Management wants to roll back wages and reduce health care
Now all that is simply not fair
The Union said No and told management to come up with a better deal
The Union Workers shouted “Is Management for real?”
Management was truly for real on their agenda
So strike was in as Worker’s march
The clock balanced as if it was an arch
Shouts went on
Brotherhood Union together in multitude strong
The Union and Management just couldn’t get along
Timing didn’t seem right
But the Union Workers were determined to shake up management being excite
After all, survival is establishing a cost of living deal, and why should Union Worker’s be polite?
Chant was “Union Worker’s Talent Skills but Management is functioning as if they are on a pill”
Now Management brought in contract workers to fill in
This strike could continue until then
However, the contract workers have no knowledge and experience in what the job entails
The aftermath, they all will fail
So management is at a loss without the Union Workers
But the question being, how long could this strike last?
It all depends in management doing the right thing
So until management sees the light
Union Workers will continue the fight
Two days had passed
Negotiations came fast
Union Worker’s ratified a new contract offering improvements to wages and health care
Management had choicer then to be fair
So the Union contract was signed and put into place
Union Workers returned back to work
The strike brought awareness
Management simply was out done
Union workers stuck together being among.
Jun 18, 2018
Jun 18, 2018 at 1:32 PM UTC
Negotiating with ******
You can't.
Even if,
He disguises himself as
Bashar-al-Assad,
Taliban,
Al Shabaab,
Hassan Rouhani,
Or that ole mass murderer,
Now not such a bad guy,
We could left him alone,
Cause he didn't have WMD,
Saddam Hussein,
He just mass murdered,
The old fashioned way.
They thirst for the blood of mine.
And when satiated, they will come for you.
There will be no Mass said
Over our mass graves.
Do not pretend to lead,
When all you seek is avoid.
The historians will seek you out
And label you coward, Chamberlin.
Shall we meet at the soccer stadium
Called Ghazi, for some ice cream
And a public execution or two?
Let's make it a woman, for the extra satisfaction?
A perfect place, conducive for relaxed negotiations!
Woe us/me, when our moral compass points only
Downward,
Into the bloodied earth,
Where we will soon enough be buried too.
Sep 24, 2013
Sep 24, 2013 at 3:15 PM UTC
My Doppelganger holds secret negotiations with my Avatar.
Slicing up the available territory by flipping a coin. Apparently,
I can see a me for myself if I happen to be in Somalia next Monday.
But that’s the Avator talking. Doppelganger is betting on Seattle.
I am eavesdropping, sitting around in my underwear. They
think I am unaware because I can’t see them, but they are
impossible without me.
Goethe, Shelley and John Donne are in the next apartment
huddled over some broken poems each had written on
the mirrors. No mistakes were made. No reflections.
They get to see themselves out of the corner of one eye,
for up to nine seconds which is like a lifetime to remember.
Yet the acrid smell of Neitzsche emanates from dark corners.
Sturm und Drang be ****** Neitzsche is convinced
no one has ever looked like him, but he does suggest
a parallel universe.
Abe Lincoln, a latecomer and unlikely participant, picks up a few pointers.
He knows full well that what he saw was not a reflection. And he rode that train
all the way from Pittsburg. All those windows...
And, yes, KA, the spirit double, the Egyptian Goddess, goes in **** as the
Greek Princess and shows up as Helen to tease Paris of Troy.
How can you not believe that? For Goddess sake, she helped end the Trojan War.
I have a lot of time on my hands. I don’t get out much.
Ava and Dopp came by just to let me know I’m still around.
Jan 4, 2014
Jan 4, 2014 at 4:57 PM UTC
O-One has been kept waiting for a long spell
N-Not knowing if one can get out of this hell
E-Endless days one has spent in an unlit well
H-Hope seems not to be journeying one's way
U-Under clouds of darkness one shall e'er stay
N-Never shall one see a bright sunny day ray
D-Deemed to be unfit to walk that old hallway
R-Realizing this fact sure makes one feel gray
E-Excluded from the folks at the homely bay
D-Dare one say one is mired in a boggy clay
A-All is lost one can't redeem one's former place
N-Negotiations with other are now a void space
D-Dear me one is in a position of sheer disgrace
E-Ever so badly one did behave all that time ago
I-In hindsight good manners needed to be the go
G-Grave is one's standing and so very full of woe
H-Heck the word one called when one had to go
T-Tidings of ejection delivered by the boss honcho
Y-Yonder one was told on the spot to quickly go
D-Down in the dumps one has been for so long
A-Away at a lone outpost well out of the throng
Y-Yearning to once again hear their joyful song
S-So one is on an island for those who do wrong
O-Only three chances did one get at that game
F-Four weren't going to be allotted to this dame
F-Folly to think that one could avoid any shame
L-Leniency not given one has to wear the claim
I-In the finally wash up one's lesson is to be tame
N-Needling the boss honcho scrubbed one's name
E-Erased one shall be for being a bad egg dame
Apr 23, 2013
Apr 23, 2013 at 3:38 AM UTC
i am in a world, a dream world
my eyes are closed but i am awake
this world is so close to the world i have always dreamt of living in...
i can feel the joys and sorrows of life
yet it's so different from the world i am living in
i want to be a part of this world ,forever
Here i am , with my eyes closed, my mind relaxed
i can think what i want to,i can feel what i want to and i can desire what i want to...
it's a pleasure to experience this...
i am luxuriating in this world of mine,
with no hassles, no obstacles,
no tension,no frustration,
it's just a world of xpectations and negotiations.
with my eyes closed, I can feel the outer world,
the one blessed with fakeness,mistrust and selfishness...
but i am proud to have a world of my own,
that inspires me to create wonders in every world that i step into...
Aug 13, 2015
Aug 13, 2015 at 4:00 PM UTC
Our beginnings,
energetic and passionate times.
Discovering one another's Love.
There are assorted reasons to Love you.
Our individual interests,
molded into common adventures.
Negotiations were easy and happily accepted.
Gradually,
Almost without knowing,
discovery and adventure diminished.
Daily tasks & responsibilities,
wedged apart our passion.
Our time together becoming less and less.
Our Love diminishing.
Negotiations became arguments.
In separate rooms, Passions diminished.
It's slipping away.
I feel regret when remembering what we lost.
I'm hanging on.
My whispers of concerns & appeals make no difference.
Diminishing returns gradually prevailing.
Jan 31, 2014
Jan 31, 2014 at 12:46 AM UTC
I celebrate the joys life brings
Cry through all the saddest things
Yet, throughout all these happenings
You are there
When the broken arrow stings
We still share
You still give me consolation
When I fall short of expectations
If I should lose negotiations
You hold me
In overindulgent celebrations
You scold me
When you call me to your side
I heed the call, I must abide
Our yearning seems to coincide
We're in sync
When my heart is cold inside
It's you I drink
Through the hot and through the cold
There through all the days of old
Tomorrow's journey is not yet told
I know you're there
There is no other hand to hold
My soul I bare
Jul 9, 2010
Jul 9, 2010 at 9:19 AM UTC
Is passion a virtue?
A passion that ingests my inside
The bareness exposed emotions
The slow graphic censorship
A depiction of Zion on earth
A deception ranting with wars
Is dedication a virtue?
A definition of a hard felt path
Preserved with heartfelt zeal
An ember that ceases and glows
Triggered touch of perseverance
Till death does you part in parts
Self restraint for one another
Dedicated to fulfil a purpose
Quests of alternative borders
Armoured in armed negations
Negotiations negative dominion
Should we control sensuality?
Feb 19, 2016
Feb 19, 2016 at 3:28 PM UTC
When I speak,
my eyebrows tell their own story,
filling in the details.
Even when I try my hand
at tact, striving for
porcelain politeness,
my eyebrows loiter in dark corners,
gossiping.
Living with two feral beasts
on one’s face
requires discipline
just short of a chainsaw.
In private I must
chisel & furrow,
for these miniature sculptures,
these Michelangelo topiaries.
This isn’t vanity.
This is protecting a pious public
from a lecherous, libidinous wolf.
For me, leaving the house and
participating in pleasantries,
daily interactions, is enough of a
Leviathan leech loading my back
without seditionist caterpillars
millimeters from munching my eyes out.
It’s for me that I tweeze,
for one only PLUCKS chickens,
that row of hair
which runs the length of my brow.
For me, for my comfort in
social negotiations.
I also do it for you,
if only to keep you from
flinching in fear
as my eyebrows defy
my utmost efforts
at not offending you.
Jun 18, 2013
Jun 18, 2013 at 6:59 PM UTC
Been itchin' to step on the toes
of some politicians, ditchin'
the sneakers and hitchin'
the anger, an armor of agression,
clothes of choler, cursing the
contempt-ridden regressions of the system.
Edgy kids turn into violent adults,
You have the right to remain violent, folks, 'long as you're getting something done and not lounging lazily,
waiting for things to change by
themselves, putting your drive on a shelf, hazily remembering what you actually believed - go **** right off and leave.
Stick to your guns.
I'm so sick of saints and nuns advocating for peace. Peace is a piece of giving up belief. "Friendly Negotiations" to talk you out of your convinction, turn convicts into martyrs and we'll see which side you really trust.
How can you believe that peace will will solve problems when it just causes feelings to be pent up?
People are competitive, wanting all that opulence in the posthumous, and peace is a puzzling problem, not a solution.
Peace would be basic if human nature wasn't so acidic, mixed with the tension of a complex society, your peace is about to burn a hole in the walls of government.
The only peace for me is death.
Ideals are nothing without people fighting for them with every last breath.
Go out and scream as long as you're making noise.
Rip limits to shreds, and raise your ******* voice.
Oct 15, 2018
Oct 15, 2018 at 7:51 PM UTC
I was once called
A communist, a fascist and an anarchist
All in one sentence
Which I thought was quite impressive
And this was because I was a union man
My fellow workers elected me to represent them
In our dealings with management
I was involved in negotiations
About the application of regulations
And other tedious vexations
And on rare occasions
I led disputes and even strikes
And, over the years
I helped to save many jobs
Not numbers
But peoples' livelihoods
Some will say I was a rabble-rouser
An agitator
Some can say as they like
All I ever did
Was stand up for the underdog
And I hope I always will
By Phil Roberts
Oct 15, 2016
Oct 15, 2016 at 5:22 AM UTC
What if the LIRR didn’t run?
For thousands of travellers, it wouldn’t be fun
It will be find another alternative
There will be no time to be selective
It will be your efforts in trying to get to work
Being on time won’t be an option
It will be more of an experience far from being an adventure
It will be overflowing crowds
Speed would be the essence in what time will allow
This will become a process for a while
Straphangers will not be travelling in style
In fact, the rails won’t be easy as a sail
There will be times when your efforts will seem like fail
Yet you will be moving in a commuting mode
This is how your day will be sold
It’s up to the unions to avoid a strike
Frustrations could end in a very strong fight
It’s a matter of coming to the negotiations table
Then coming with a plan that is sound with talks in able
We will have to wait and see
We don’t know what the results will be
It will be definitely the subway and the bus
But this will affect all of us.
Jul 4, 2014
Jul 4, 2014 at 4:12 PM UTC
The Setting Was A Colored Stone (Pare 1 Of 3)
For the barefoot girl, the faithful
album was an afternoon in the
sports bar where there had been
a guitar player and some ginger ale.
Now the trumpet was singing a wide
screen view of the big game.
Eliminating distractions, the crew
was focused on the game, ignoring
the girl as she wandered, in bare feet,
between the tables. No pretense
suggested that the medium was not
appropriate for those who climbed
railroad ties and those who drank beer
in moderation after negotiations about
the green sheaves and the upstairs room.
In this castle, time was suspended.
The Setting Was A Colored Stone (Part 2 Of 3)
Ashes were good for the roots of the plant
in the window where the response was
directed to the coolness, or the hot weather.
In sports, the weather seemed to be extreme.
It was always freezing cold the opposite;
coaches meant to be cautious watching for
heat stroke among the players. The club was
not louder than the dim barn where animals
were removed from the immediacy of the
last few weeks of the season. Some of the
birds could not fly; there were mice that
could climb to humble abodes in the rafters,
and the cats gathered apart from the dogs.
The heavy lifters had reassuring
incantations derived by the artificial
structures of the radiology through iconic
projection. Antenna reception hovered to
mark the insects with aesthetic devices,
a discovery by evolution.
The Setting Was A Colored Stone (Part 3 Of 3)
Screams came from the permutation and
signing a transcript of the spiritual drawing
which had been seen wandering among all
the other creatures living and working in
the flying building. The gathering showed
grinning teeth and disappeared. Found at
the bottom of the mineshaft, was the fictional
ring of speculations and associations
confronting the mischief of the few by the
motionless badges of authority. Life depended
on the weathered red boards where the climate
ranged like it was galloping across the public
space, proved free by the friendliness of
kindly associates and the universe of powers,
the authority of birds that did not fly and barns
that had flown away.
Nov 8, 2013
Nov 8, 2013 at 8:04 PM UTC
the desperado cowboy-poet awakes
anxious, needing-ending relief,
the craving greater than great,
he begs-raggedly, with Raggedy handily Andy words,
to all and anyone in the aroused surrounded vicinity,
give please give, of something to write
the bay, soothingly plays the would-be author,
"place me, look my way,
have I not droplets endless
from which you've drunk exquisitely,
so many more to fair share"
the birds twit and flit,
raucous caucus demanding
to be seated
by the tablet's keypad
to gain entry
to one more congressional natural tribute
the sky and sun organize a
joint session, extraordinary mission;
"we are the first of your day,
thus primarily,
we win the primary,
deserving in your recording of our
nomination as the first day's
sound and light show victorious"
sorry folks,
got a better tale to tell,
natural in its way,
titillating, and quite suitable
for reputating Au Naturel humanity
and it's a quirky, say hey tale,
morning coffee fresh,
a first word report from an
untelivised convention
of a different kind of congressing
awoke to find the:
*chauffeur in bed with the cook,
the Poppy, beside the sleeping Nana,
the poet, eyeing the lying next to him, tango dancer,
the classicist eyeing the sleeping moderne,
ditty ditsy Ogden Nash astride a Shakesperian sonnet,
the thinning gray line defending his bedded half,
from an invading horde of unionizing blonde tresses,
the republican with the democrat,
the conservative with the liberal,
heated discussions, non-neutralizing negotiations
conducting and watched by
peeping tom skies, clouds, birds and waters
pretending to fly flow past*
wow
now that,
is quite interesting
deserving worthy of a
disrobing disputatious disreputation,
very newsworthy and why not,
a poem all its own?
the bay waved goodbye,
the birds disbanded in silence,
quietly disenfranchised.
the sun and the sky hung around
pretending to be UN neutrality observers
wearing cute blue and white helmets
looking every where but not,
at the line of demarcation
the beggar, by his new impoverishment, enriched,
another love poem writ,
niched and pitched
one more itch,
so very well scratched
Aug 6, 2016
Aug 6, 2016 at 8:23 AM UTC
Spring does not occur
in verdant shocks and celebrations
of garden blooms and animals *******
it's a slow parade
it's a hostage situation
there is a crow
dodging traffic for roadkill
there is a boy
who loves a girl who doesn't love him
The Twilight Man
finally learns how to cross the street
alongside school children
The thin ice
which still resides
on the concrete
dares you to be the first to traverse it
and the snowbanks
which lay before you
feign alpine hazard
and I wonder what the naked tree branches are saying
as they reach for the sky with twisted fingertips
with their meteorological braille
we confuse for variations of shade
they say give us back the sun
and we'll give you our leaves
there is a book in each tree we do not cut down
and we read it as we breathe
a forest is a library we breathe
Spring is resolving hostage negotiations.
Mar 27, 2015
Mar 27, 2015 at 11:13 AM UTC