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DaSH the Hopeful Dec 2015
There's a beautiful gun in my hand.
Flawless.
                     The nightshift sun gleams off the barrel like a swan on a lake
     At home against the humid sweaty dark pressing against everything yet awesomely singular

     The clock stopped a long time ago and gunshots took over in place of the ticks and tocks…

     (I'm chewing on something soft)

                        … and I never noticed.

It seemed natural.
Every bullet chambered was just another hour passing

       And though it feels like forever I know its been half a day
      

        Blood laces the treads of my shoes
     Hugging the rubber and drawing patterns that I'm less aware of than I am of...

     (What is this? It's good.)

... myself

         Everyone I know is sitting in a pile.
        No more alive than the gun itself.
Still they talk. Memories are shared and advice is given. I don't care to know if its real.

        Everyone talks. It makes sense.
   Even the dead
.
  
           The ceiling fan noisily labors diligently if not futilely against the unspeakable heat. It's the only sound I can be sure of. The motion helps.

     Nothing else is moving except...

    
(Chewchewchewithinkicanithinkican)
    
        ...My jaw. Steadily gnashing through…

     (Everyone talks)

            My tongue. I don't care about the blood at my feet or the fact that its coming from my mouth.

      *What worries me is that now everyone is staring at me and I dont have any gun at all
These city lights look for all the world to me
like some spellbound amnesty
but in reality
they are the building blocks that bring the nights
so I can see
what is to come and what will be.

Like ships at sea that head to port
we're caught
and cast upon the waves like bread to be dispersed
saved ,reborn and nursed by those well versed
in maritime and chandler's stores and sending those back through revolving doors to drown again,
and how the night pours down on me
slipping quickly through the city light where the building blocks become another knock,a twist of fate,and being cruel would stand and wait,while I, the traveller stand and hesitate
to go on
to stay?
an end to an end or a beginning that would send me some hope,no pope here to bless me or you,just another city night to fight and fit tightly through until the morning comes and runs my fears away.

I stay and am obliged to those contributors,interlocutors who saw me,spoke, and watched me as I broke upon the morning shore,
score one to me and city nil
until tonight
when we will fight again.
Olivia Kent Dec 2015
Have not written much at all.
As work is always on the call.
I am prey to the poorly.
Always the sick.
Some self inflicted.
The ailing all want to steal my time.
And mine I'll give so willingly.
There is a passing passion to tenderly care.
My precious moments I shall share with the sick and the needy.
Tonight sadly, as well as stealing my pen my lovely patients shall  steal my sleep.
After the shift of the shadows from daytime to night.
I shall fulfill my role as the lady of the light.
When daylight of Sunday breaches my eyes my  much tired body will greet sleeps' surprise.
(c)LIVVI
Coralium Dec 2021
It’s strangely busy around the deathbeds,
as well it’s my last nightshift of the year.
I try to make no noise, can you hear me?
Push my hand, if you can, move a limb.
Your breath is so slow, please keep going,
monitors flash in time with the ventilator.
I’ll control the pupils, I know it’s blinding.
No one goes with their sparkling old eyes,
we are usually fading before we are dying.
keila skie Apr 2023
i have a lover
i have an unrequited love
i have a friend who i can talk to at night

it is the same person

i have known him for years now
i am sure he is still in love with his past love
i wonder if the only reason he talks to me at night is because he works the night shift
my dear friend, i have known you for 6 years now, you saw me become a woman and you were the person who made me one too. i know i said we could still be friends after that but it just kept on happening. my body found itself wrapped around your bedsheets more times than i could count. i started wanting more. it scared me. i didnt want to ruin the friendship we spent years building, but my heart could hold it no longer. i confessed and you rejected me in the kindest way possible. after all than i said we would stop holding eachother, stop craving eachother. and we did. but only months passed and we were alone again. we were weak. you for the warm feeling of holding someone, and me for the delusional idea that maybe you would want more until you became addicted. you never lost control. please lose control.
Khoisan Feb 2022
An ****** nymph
discombobulated Darwin

a bushy bird
out dating carbon

this glorious lark

caused such a spark

seducing Ludwig,
to the beat of Marvin.
A Friday fun poem
Shashi Dec 2010
This poetry is one of the collections of poetry I am writing, called “Kalina” about a small girl and her world, her feelings her thoughts. ‘Butterfly’ was submitted to ‘One Stop Poetry’ for the competition “Through a Child’s Eyes” and was selected as one of the finalist. Click here to read to read the article…

I have edited this one below after submission; hence here you have the latest version

Butterfly
_

Look, there she is
There on the window pane
A new friend from the dreams last night
She promised to teach me
How to fly, where ever, whenever
In sunshine or rain

How bright and beautiful, she is
Pinker than my ma’s cheek
Her little wings have so many colors
Like the rainbow
I painted last summer, for my Pa’s Birthday
Before he left for the war,
You know, to make money for us to eat

Tell me butterfly,
How does one eat money?
How does one go to the war?
I don’t want Pa to go to the war;
I don’t want any money to eat; At all
You know, whenever I hug him,
I don’t feel hungry,
God Swear, not at all

Oh! Butterfly!!
Why are you flying away
Going so far?
See, out side, the day is still full of light;
Sure you can wait a little more?
Promise, Ma will be back soon,
From her nightshift,
And, sure she will let you in
Don’t you see, I can not;
I am in the bed,
Too sick to let you in

Butterfly, my dear Butterfly,
You really have to teach me how to fly
Before you came in my dreams
I promised Pa - a hug tonight,
I know where he “wars” now;
Ma showed me the other night,
When she cried,
“There, Kalina, there he is, in the sky
That beautiful bright Evening Star”

You know Butterfly;
I love him so much,
Much more than I love Ma,
Really!
You must teach me to fly,
As I have to go today,
Yesterday, Pa told me
Its time now
Here you see
My Ma does not even smile much
Now

__
ॐ नमः शिवाय
Om Namah Shivaya
@Shashi / Nov 2010
http://shadowdancingwithmind.blogspot.com/2010/12/whispers-butterfly.html
Gaffer Apr 2016
5 am you woke me up, to meditate.

I thought someone had died, someone had, me.

It was the ultimate time, you said.

Looking down, I had to disagree.

Can you feel the energy, she said.

I can’t feel myself, go away.

This is a window of opportunity she said.

There was a window.

Let us breathe she said.

This had never happened before, nutcase  came to mind.

What is your mantra she said.

What is my name I said.

No, you have to reach out, draw in the energy.

I am going to reach out, it won’t be pretty.

Let me take you on a journey, join me.

I’ll phone you a taxi, blast, it’s your house, I’ll phone me a taxi.

If we connect the *** will be out of this world.

Okay, through the delirium I heard the S word

Mmmm feel it, Mmmm, feel it, Mmmm, can you feel it.

I can definitely feel something.

It’s getting stronger, we are one.

We definitely are.

We must connect.

We definitely must.

Before my husband comes off the nightshift.

Thought I heard the H word there.

Let us be one.

Let us wind back to the husband.

He is but a component in time.

What time does this component come home at.

Six, but it’s okay, he’s gay.

Thought I heard the G word there.

He likes to join in, which can be a pain.

When you say join in, what do you mean.

In the mantra, he likes to join in in the mantra.
Richard Riddle Mar 2015
Re: Ancient Greece: How do you read a sundial, especially if you work on a nightshift at Acme Stonecutters, Inc.? Something for Socrates to ponder.(He was always late for work)
bleh Dec 2015
it's an old tale around town
that if you pierce the ground
with a needle just right
all the spirits will escape

no one really believes it
but the lore's dramatic flare gives a sense of community


at the bus stop  stand
twelve children with clay faces
day and night they stare straight ahead
and mumble the same word
over and over


Time passes by,
back bent and wretched
the dead grace of fallen kings

and eventually

the clay breaks,
the heads roll


a visiting CEO
stands to make a speech
but finds an emptiness
clawing at her throat

the clay breaks,

the silent tears
of the heart of a brooding teen
end their tenancy
and return to the ocean

a nightshift manager
swipes their card, closes the barbed gates,
fumbles rolling a cigarette
and draws in a sigh,
but the breath refuses to escape

the clay breaks,

a bluebird sings
but cannot recall the melody
petals clog the gutter
but the branches have long withered

people meet up and gather
to try to quell the empty pressure
they stand to chant the childrens' lost word
but everyone remembers it differently


time passes
routine remains
but there are waves in the waterways
and sometimes people on the surface streets
find themselves lost in the tide


time passes,

the dirt city convulses
under its silent weight

we gather a needle
and pierce the ground,


but nothing happens
...
Basbee Dec 2014
You are my friend
You are a part of me
You understand me in ways other people can't
You are a part of my joy
You are so funny
You are caring
And so lovable
You are my Portugues King
You will always occupy a special place in my heart

You have this deep voice that I can't seem to get over
And I somehow don't understand you over the phone
But when you say 'yes' it drives me crazy
Just the sound of you keeps me sane

We may have our arguments and we disagree on a lot of things
But we do have one thing in common
We crazy *******!

You my *****
I know I can always count on you

You are my nightshift fetish
And I've replaced my addiction to smoking with my addiction to you
Coz you are my daily fix

I will love you till death
Dedication to my Best Friend Mike. I love him so much.
No, he's not in the FriendZone.
Gaffer Jul 2015
5 am you woke me up, to meditate.

I thought someone had died, someone had, me.

It was the ultimate time, you said.

Looking down, I had to disagree.

Can you feel the energy, she said.

I can’t feel myself, go away.

This is a window of opportunity she said.

There was a window.

Let us breathe she said.

This had never happened before, nutcase  came to mind.

What is your mantra she said.

What is my name I said.

No, you have to reach out, draw in the energy.

I am going to reach out, it won’t be pretty.

Let me take you on a journey, join me.

I’ll phone you a taxi, blast, it’s your house, I’ll phone me a taxi.

If we connect the *** will be out of this world.

Okay, through the delirium I heard the S word

Mmmm feel it, Mmmm, feel it, Mmmm, can you feel it.

I can definitely feel something.

It’s getting stronger, we are one.

We definitely are.

We must connect.

We definitely must.

Before my husband comes off the nightshift.

Thought I heard the H word there.

Let us be one.

Let us wind back to the husband.

He is but a component in time.

What time does this component come home at.

Six, but it’s okay, he’s gay.

Thought I heard the G word there.

He likes to join in, which can be a pain.

When you say join in, what do you mean.

In the mantra, he likes to join in in the mantra.
thanda Nov 2016
It's a messy Monday morning,
with the blinds still closed to avoid the light.
It's the stumbling out of bed that makes you wonder why you're not dead.
It's the contemplation of existence,
not caring what's next.
Not caring your pay cheque could make a difference,
Not caring you're wearing a brandless tee and certainly not caring about the ******* on TV.

It's rooted from where you came from & why she made it but not you,
How being breathless occupies the entire room.
pacing your palms over your head trying to figure out why you're not dead.
It's a messy Monday morning because you lied to yourself yesterday when you said: "only one drink."
Because you couldn't seem to figure out where things were headed & maybe this time, today would be the end.
It doesn't make sense so it's better to lay in bed.
It's not better but it's easy,
It's easy to believe the monsters in your head are only alive to just be friends or that your nightshift job means more money in the end.
To an end the priests have worked on,
To satisfy believers,
Fulfilling their needs.

It's a Godless world,
It makes no sense.
Theresa M Rose Oct 2018
Chapter two

December 24, 1979;
This day or, should it be said, night… is the night a spark alters this heart’s understanding of a heartbeat with such desires which were never thought possible. After most have gone to bed; it’s 4 in the morning, Kelli, Julie .Joe and my-self were sitting up downstairs talking in Rose’s living-room, enjoying her lovely Christmas decorations.  Kelli goes up around four-thirty and Julie sat-up on the armchair by the archway; Julie was talking about things going on at her work. Funny enough, the only thing going through my mind is ‘Oh my, I sure hope you go up stairs before others begin to waking; I want to have time to talk with him by himself.
Finally, “Goodnight Uncle Joe!” and up the stairs Julie goes; It’s now, five fifteen, he and I are alone on the couch together and finally I could talk with him ‘til others wake or ‘til he tells me he needs to go sleep.  I would have been happy just having he be as a friend but knowing he was no longer with Connie… could heaven feel this near? We sit talking… I edge towards him; I feel a touch, his hand gently he reaches and then pulls… no guides …, for I more than anything want this to happen, to the warmth of his lips; my heart pounds as the taste of his salty-sweet lips rushes into my mind beside all the sensations his lips touching his arms give…tingling warmth, surrounding me, enveloping me?! I’ve never known this feeling before; such depths of wanting; of needing, of a desire to be here in these arms.
“Joe; Joe, Joey I love you…” Did I just say…???
“Don’t!” he says, “Don’t, this is a just for-now thing; but there’s no commitments, no responsibilities?!”  
I know why he says this… Connie?!  He doesn’t know, these words of his only make me want him so much more?! He has no idea how fearful all this is for me; these words, his words make me feel safer in his arms; it is safe here in these feelings I’m having?!
“If you want…; it’s your choice?! No commitments.”
“Fine.”
How could Joe know just how much he’s already a part of me?  I would never…  I could not say no.
How could Joe know how I’ve already thought of him; he couldn’t know how special he is in these eyes; how he has been long since a time before the 77’ blackout, back in summers-passed?!  On a day I was looking out the window, watching, Connie and him in the backyard working on his car. I held such envy towards Connie, looking out, watching the two of them, and ever since whenever I would see them together. If only; but who would truly want what I am…beyond my Chameleon’s mask? Dreams are nice to have but you can’t ride pipes all your life?! You can only live in what there is in this life.
Days earlier than watching them from that window… I had walked in-on Billy, the one I was with; he was in bed not alone they were in the midst of the most explicit acts?!  There weren’t any blankets on them and it wasn’t right away that they knew I was there stunned in the doorway!? This being something which one could never un-see?! And yet, I seem to be remaining?! A part of me already knew this about him but it’s just, I, never thought it would ever be in my face or who it’d be…I’d see?! Which as it turns out is what was most overwhelming of it all.  Billy was raised by foster-system and he’s been living with this man, Joe McAtamney, since he was nearly eight years old; you’d think… but no; No boundaries??? I thought Billy would be aged-out of this man’s wants…But no; and, to think several months earlier my dad signed papers for Billy to be my husband?! I ran from the three of them down in City-hall; I should have kept running?!  But oddly to say this little tat-a-tat doesn’t even close to being the worst of happening in my life; I was Billy’s first female … to think, barely, thirteen years old and next to him I’ve already have had years of expertise in the activity, merely on a physical basis; I did have no comprehensions on how to conduct or relate beyond that… not a real clue on how to be in a normal male/female relationship out of the ****** interactions?! And hell, as much as that was concerned lord knows I’d rather be clipping coupons???  I would have still been with Billy if it wasn’t for the loss of my daughter back in May of 79’!  Joe, Billy’s foster-father, rented Billy a Rockaway's bungalow I thought it was to keep him from being under foot but that’s wasn’t it?!    Billy’s foster-father and my mother figure in bribing Billy he would/could convince me to abort or if nothing else to give-up my baby if it comes to it. Most of April we had set up house out there in Rockaway; I thought he and I could find work, a place to live of our own and make a home for this baby. But no, every penny I could hide he’d find and spend; he’d have other boys over who are friends with his foster-father, like these are the people anyone would want around any child???
The last week I was out there, Pat Current was out there with us; I couldn’t stand this boy he was every bit the same as having my brother Kevin around?! You wouldn’t want to fall asleep in a place where he might be able to find you. A sociopathic horror, a ****** deviant and a thief; someone who wouldn’t have a problem in delighting in and/or causing other’s pain as a form of his own entertainment; Why Billy has Pat here knowing what he’s about?! I know Pat’s a time to time lover of Billy’s Foster-father but he isn’t here with him???
It was the morning of the 14th. I woke-up not feeling well; Billy and Pat said they figure to go down to the beach so I could rest and they told me they’ll  be back around one for me make them something to eat. They return only to find all those from the other bungalows along with the lady who rents them out were all inside the bungalow with me; they were staying with me so I wouldn’t be alone until the ambulance comes.  When the lady heard my screams she ran down into the yard and entered the door; I was holding myself up trying to make it myself to the front-door to find some help. There were ****** puddles all over and handprints over everything; there’s such pain and pressure I wasn’t able to move a step more. She helped me back to the bed. When I got to St. John's Episcopal I was all alone; nobody could come with me in the ambulance. By the time Billy arrived I was there about five or six hours has passed and she, my baby girl was gone.  The Doctor wouldn’t allow me to touch her, to pick her up or hold her in my arms. The doctor just left her next to me lying there cold and blue …exposed ; they had her laying there in an old metal bedpan; my child.  
Doctor, “When you’re ready you can get up and leave; make an appointment with your regular doctor for a hemo-globin shot.”
The nurse told Billy he needed to come in the room and get me out, he needed to take me home. He would not; he said he’d wait until I came out on my own.  The nurse walked over to me and she look at my face she could see I wasn’t about to walk away from my baby; she reached to remove her… I blocked her path I couldn’t allow her, to, to take my baby away from me?!  The nurse went over by the table across the room; she picked-up a small baby-blanket and return over to where we were and she made a shush sound and said it’ll be alright; she understood. She gently wraps my baby into the blanket and had me sit-down then the nurse placed her into my arms… the nurse remained by my side while I held my poor little girl in my arms. Touching her face, “Please forgive me for not protecting you better; I am so sorry…” I kissed her and, “I love you; I’ll miss you, always.”
The nurse held out her hands and said, “Don’t you worry I’ll take care of your little Baby Rose;”
“Thank you.” I left my baby there in the arms of the nurse and I left the hospital with Billy. We walk to the train station and we begin to head back to the last place in the world I want to go. He and Pat were talking about where they’ll be going to go tonight??? Billy turns and says,” If you feel like it you can come; it’ll be fun!”
‘??? He didn’t just say…’
“You can go to where-ever…” I looked at the two of them, “I’m going elsewhere?!” I back-step-it off the train at Broad channel the doors closed and I waved. I went to sleep that night in my bed at home on 66 Street. I couldn’t stand to have to look at his face. Afterwards, I was told Billy was rather happy that my little baby girl was gone. I awoke in the morning, first day back and things around here were no different. I went to Dr. Tierney’s office about the shot I needed and he told me I should never try to have a baby ever again; “You need to go on the pill and don’t ever allow yourself to get pregnant again!”
“No problem Doc… I no-longer have a boyfriend and I don’t have much luck with them?!”
“Easy said but only takes once?! Go on the pill; be sure!”  He writes a script and I go home.
I had a boyfriend before Billy; his name was John (Stretch) Thompson, its funny John was 6’4” and at the time I was only about 5 feet tall. He lived around the corner from the St. Sebastian’s church down in Woodside. This was back in 73’ he and I met at and worked together in the Burger’N’Shack on the corner of Queens Boulevard and 58th. He was night shift and did all the prep-work for the next day and they, the worker’s of the nightshift, paid me with eats and tips to clean off tables and to do quick-mops during the night; and, after John would finish his shift we would go over to his brother’s house. Both of John’s parents died back in 66’ and he lives with his brother and his brother’s wife. John went into the military… he told me when he returns we’d be married; eight months after John left his brother found me and he told me John was killed on his third day over there. I hadn’t seen John’s brother or his wife after that; I stayed around Key-food and carried bags to cars for tips or I’d walk with woman to their nearby homes with their bags. Big Frank, Little Frank and Denis allowed me to take out a store-cart from the lot so I could make money; Big Frankie, Oscar from the deli department and Mr.C, the owner of Big-Six’s Key-food, like me. And, the owner was also a very good friend of my Great-Uncle Patrick’s. It was sad John’s death but…  Move on; No-one the wiser.  This is the year the Dunn’s moved in on the block. Me, myself is odd, on my own block once more… act like every other kid! Even, when you see others who know different… you are a child?!  ...but not; silence is silence even in the loudest room it’s there. All you need do is to open your eyes to hear it.  To think, if it was that Norman Rockwell and Picasso were to blend their styles together…  Oh, how it would be of those on these blocks of Woodside?!
    Back then, for me, *** was an activity devoid of any kind of desirous wants.  For the most part those near my own age would get my delighted saying to them,” Cut it off and Brass it then put it by your baby-shoes!” or, if I thought better of the individual I’d tell them, “What you care to tell friends, who cares it’s your business, but there’s nothing happening here, don’t waste my time, or yours and go away!”
But here my being in Joe’s arms there is such a difference; I had never wanted, anything, anything with this intensely. We made plans to get together at the house once everybody has left for the day; oh, Wednesday.  Wednesday morning could never be soon enough. The last person is gone, everyone is gone… I open, closed the gate was up the stoop and inside the house before anyone could have ever seen me enter the gate. Joe and I chitchat a little while looking at one another… Joe repeated “… this is a just for now, no commitments, your choice… if you want…?  suddenly even-though we were nowhere near that couch the touch of his arms… the taste of his lips, the scent of his skin…  time melts; it feels as if he we hadn’t been away from each other a single second?! But here we are, now, with the hall-door locked, the decorations no longer being on; there is no worry of someone stopping us…and, we go into his room. Joe has no idea how, in this moment, being here in his room frightens me; it’s not him not a bit… it is these sensations of wanting… Joe would not understand, I don’t, how could he; Joe thinks me being more knowing of things like this?! No wrong, though he doesn’t realize these feelings he, now, is bringing out of me are all so new?!  Every breath, every heartbeat, and every gentle movement of his body against mine… his touch made me feel! “Joe, Joe I love you.”
“Don’t!”
You said; If, I want?  It’s my choice; …as-if there could ever be any-other.
  
Since then whenever we were alone together the feelings were the same for us; we’d drive around in the car talking then find somewhere to park enjoying each other’s company for awhile… just talking and having a wonderful time. And, then… a touch, one of us would reach out towards the other the sensations overtake and cause time to shift into its stillness and no-longer do our moments separate; the first… this… all of time bound within this sensation we share. But time, time never allows long…. It cannot when such appetites’ seem endless. He’d need to get home. I’d need to do things as well. We’d both need time to do what must… I would usually put up a fuss; many times Joe laugh,  he’d need to tell me he’ll kick me out the car if I didn’t get out on my own… I never wanted to be without… this sensation, these moments we share; I never want to know again what life would be without him.
Things between us remain; even after I told him…
I told him about having a baby?! Asking him to be the child’s God-father would assure  that nobody would think differently about his being close to child; I couldn’t take the chance of his not wanting me to have this baby?! And, he hadn’t asked; I was in bliss. If he had asked me I would have had to tell him. Is there any wonder why I feel the love I feel… we would still be together; but he wouldn’t allow me to be as insatiable as he made me feel; Joe was always so careful with me when we’d be together even in our most sensual of moments he was always mindful to keep the baby safe. I had never known; never experience such loving tenderness in this life as at this time being, held, here in his arms. Everything I am everything… belongs to him.
Until the day of June 28th.
kromwellfarkus Sep 2022
Awake at 0415
Sleep still in my eyes
Bundle up crib
**** and a ****
Shave clean
Coffee on the boil
Then, on the road.
Lit ciggy
Volume still up from last night
Knock it down a notch
Until the ears can focus...

Swipe on, turnstile spins
Follow in suit
Say g'day to nightshift
As the hi-vis is donned
PPE all strapped on
Steel capped **** kickers
Helmet slap, follow the crowd
To prestart.

Sit and nod, coffee lukewarm
Handover from nights
Sign on lads and ladies
Lock on, work instruction, THA
We are all dressed the same
The same team
With the same goal
To go home...

We don't know how it all works
In our silo, doing our bit
For our 12 hour stint
For 7 days.

Just before 6
With our bodies worn and ready
For a quiet bevvy
With mates we made at work
Swipe off, turnstile spins
Say g'day to nightshift
It'll be our turn next swing
Top job, had a win.

Microwave feed
Boots at the door
TV just for the noise
Stare at the phone
They ring before bed
Let it ring out
How was your day?
Same as every other, don't bother.

Asleep before head hits pilla
Awake at 0415
carminayasmin Apr 2018
If we sped one night in your motor
in ghostly sleeped streets.
Onto a highway, overtaking nightshift drivers.
Their anger would only echoe and
bounce of your back screen window.

Street lights would fade
into roads which passed their trails.
And your senses would dissolve into the music as we rode.
Your fumes polluted the air so much that night,
but I left you forgiven
because it was your last.

The last image in my iris of you flashed,
as my skin was scarcely stabbed.
Your cigar was put out by the force
before your lips could ever taste it again.
It’s last fire was gushed out
by my bottled tears which spilled on the surface.

Then I seen you impaled
your heart oozed out onto the steering wheel,
that had steered us to the end.
Your fingers were the surf that melted into the ocean.
As were your eyes,
enclosed in a forbidden sleep to ensure that
you never awoke and remembered.

But each night I wade with the birds
who sing at the cars looting by
and I inhale their fumes, crying because
they still have miles left unlike you did that night,
when we sped
and you stopped.
21 February, 21:50
when the car raced outside
Robert Brunner Dec 2019
the turn of the rail
round the land.
the curve of the
soundbox against
the hand.
the engine rumbles
somewhere, undefined,
as love disappears
tonight.
the wall lines the sea
in holland.  The velvet
folds close the stage
at the opera.
Tile on the roof
silently shedding
the rain as love
disappeared today.
Relentlessly cold is
the hearthstone.
The march of the
nightshift to
the factory
from home.
Barge tied to barge
sounding the horn,
a freight of black
coal, buries the heart
as love disappears tonight.
Dark are the waters
plied by the fishing
boats and trawlers.
The paths are
map-less
ruthlessly speaking
a language that's foreign.
At the edge of the
canyon without
finality, love
disappears, over and
over again.
Mateuš Conrad Sep 2024
3rd night of your typical ordeal...
sober then tired
then drunk from tiredness
then sober from tiredness...
I would have never admitted
O the luxury spent
Scribbling to no avail a veil
and it isn't even winter yet
so the air is the cool and warm
zenith of autumn
with the sun being somewhat
forgiving...
if only I had all my fingers attired
to a keyboard not this twinkle
and twiddling thumbs on a shmartfoonz
on my way to "work"...
any association with arguments
of personal space dissociated
crammed into a late running northern line
just four stops from Morgate
to Elephant & Castle...
two blonds not a nightclub dance floor
awkwardness...
and the whiff I got...
of their hair... soapy and not...
a perfume of candyfloss...
and more...
that absinthe soaked sugar cube
being set alight and caramelised
on a spoon... a ****** a heroine of scents...
and oh how I miss sleeping in the night
the agony of a farewell to the sultry hours
where one can become infuriated
with so many details the day allows
whereby the same details in the night
become o O so monstrously bigger...
the senses seemingly dimmed
but also more acute...
all that could be missing is a ritual
best associated with the prancing of
naked witches at a sabbath-*****-****...
came the night from the 17th to the 18th
of September: super harvest moon...
where the wolf to the past participle
of: no... past simple... to (have) been...
a wolf? So what would be the past
complex?
For all the rigidity of grammar...
     a flow of language that doesn't abide
by rules: each to his own version of
a workaround collapse: imperfectly strident.
Nocturnes no. 16 in F major
John Field...
                                 and until 7am...
that rubric of songs on the radio
simply overflows with minutes of
meaning in the hours of banality.
Graff1980 Feb 2018
There is something there
in the downtown square,
an angel statue
with statuesque hair.

On my way to work
the nightshift,
I stop and stare
at the strange
stationary beauty,

whispering secrets
in her ear
that she’ll never share,
cause she doesn’t care.

She is as hard as metal
but the last beautiful girl
staring up at the stars,
while loud cars
blast by
destroying the peaceful night.

Like Pygmalion
I am in love
with a statue,
but unfortunately
for little old me
there is no
Aphrodite
to bring my beloved to life.
Anissa Aguila Apr 2020
The most prominent year of my childhood
Was the one in which we shared a bedroom.
In a classic telling of time dilation,
It's the only part I can recall,
As if we spent years sharing nightmares and visions
And secrets that we buried in the graying carpet.
The carpet is musty
And there is cat hair in our brown hair from when he
Slithers into the dollhouse when
Our backs are turned.
We shake him out and
He bolts down the stairs.
We climb up the stairs in tactile daydreams
Where we can play the piano
And speak boldly. We speak softly
To not wake your mother,
Asleep from the nightshift next room over.
We dig our fingers in the carpet in the mornings
Sat between my mother’s knees
As she pulls our hair into matching styles.
We are uneven twins,
Short and tall,
Curled and straight,
Loud and faint.
Even now, without the matching dresses
Or braids,
Which are now cut and dyed
As if we mutually agreed it was tied to something we needed to forget.
We unlearn the role of xeriscape ghost,
And we hunt the ones that haunted us
When you left after a year,
Your mother pulling you into a car seat,
And mine, indoors.
In another classic case of time dilation,
No time passed at all.
Acme Oct 2021
Coworker on a bus after nightshift
Waltham to Boston. He said he was sick
in a serious way. Doctors baffled and
he feeling worse by the day. I told him
not to worry because he'd be better soon.
They always figure it out. He died. AIDS.
Several years later at an AIDS hospice
I heard the rattled breath at deaths door.
Barely able to hold his cane he stood then
struggled mighty to make it to his grave.
Rod. I wish you had known him.
Abeer Aug 2022
Bye
The bliss in for the morning
Really pushed you over my space
Negligence and 'Bye' sounding
"Put the money in" and this he says

The lights don't flicker or twist
Rain water slows and it gets ever so cold
The valiant queue fades in the mist
He kills you ,steals that you once sold

Forgive me, hera
There wasn't any way
Please send your lame little mirrors
I need to show how you looked

Lines for buses or just the heat index
The quick glance at my wrist,it's time
The breeze stopped gushing for the best
The ground wasn't as dry or sublime

Sirens in lane like crime wasn't born yet
"I'll work the nightshift" and for true love
"Agony Aunt was burnt alone", you bet?
I left my dreadful seat for a run

And i ran to my rescue
Far away from worldly affairs and fear
The gun the gun the gun
That the bad men used as i slowly ran away from you
Qualyxian Quest Feb 2023
I remember Mike and Steve
The past not even past
One man to retrieve
Hey Now! Everlast

Rain all day today
The Batman on my screen
My cousins in Cincinnati
She is always 17

Yesterday grateful peace
Relief, the burden lifts
Stars all around
Marvin, the Nightshift

Alex and I talk
He shares Simple Man
Edgar Allan Poe
Baltimore began

          And I ran ...
kromwellfarkus Jun 2022
Accepts my indifference
Wild emotional tantrums
Uncomfortable silence
Sheer laziness
My silly human traits.

Respects space
Loves my face
And tells me
Every beautiful day.

I choose no other
Forever.

Once she awakes
From her nightshift efforts
I will remind her
She is appreciated
With a kiss and a cuppa.

Through my blurred perspective
Tinted rose iris
I will smile through plastic teeth
In doe eyed admiration
At this beautiful person
That chose me
Over all others.

Every tomorrow
Every today
That I get to see her
Is a blessing.

Until I die
I will adore
Tend and care for
My sweet Lawla,

Forever more.
kromwellfarkus Nov 2022
So, I got married on a Friday
She was as beautiful as always
We traded vows, photos aplenty
Blended two crazy families.

It was a wild week
Find a meter squared to sleep
One bathroom between thirty or so
My poor house mate, just dealing with it.

Late dinners, drinking til midnight
Only my son and a mates missus had a fight
A beautiful scene up in the hills
With family, mates and my wife.

I have this ring on my finger now
Clunky and uncomfortable
I don't wear jewellery
But, I am told, I'll get used to it.

I have a new found sense of pride
And I reek of love all the time
As we dance and kiss in the kitchen
Me, and my beautiful wife.

She will always be my truest of loves
Always beside me, except on nightshift
And, I cannot word the feelings I hold
Just for her.

She accepts this wild man
This silly lost boy
And I will forever be grateful
For loving me.
kromwellfarkus Jan 2024
You work at the mines mate?
You must be raking it in?!

"Awake at 5, sometimes before
Hivis and boots then out the door
No one to kiss goodbye
Just go.

Give a nod and half smile to nightshift
Sleep still in the eyes
Roll on in for prestart
A dingy container powered by a loud generator
Say g'day to the boys and the supervisor.

Get in trouble, for not being clean shaved
Apologies, forgot, all good, here's a razor
Dry shave, water lubricant
Try to complain but the money's too good.

8 more days, just push through the heat
Worn out boots and swollen feet
Paperwork galore, but wait, there's more
There's been an incident and my feet are sore.

The misso didn't text
The kids are a handful
She's 2 flights away so carry on
Just stay strong.

Head in the game, eyes on the job
We must prevent complacency
With reiterating the same thing
Over and over and over again.

We all dress the same
"King Gee" orange overalls
We all smell the same
Except for the supervisors.

Sulpher and acids and alarms and things
Risks and controls and signatures
Old mate forgot to sign on
He won't last, cos he forgot to sign on.

Eyes on task, line of fire, rah rah rah
Just get the job done
With an itchy face
And an idiot that won't shut up.

12hours of push
Crib breaks with strangers
The misso still hasn't touched base
Miss her touch and beautiful face.

Just realised, the shift is over
As the sun sets over the smelter
Pack up, *******, couple beers at the mess
Too tired to realise, she still hasn't text.

Boots and hivis left by the door
(**** my feet are sore)
Fast asleep before my head hits the bed
Awake at 5, do it again."

Yeah mate, it's not too bad...
Ive worked in mining for over 20years. It is not as cracked up as it sounds...
Qualyxian Quest Oct 2022
3:40 and I'm awake
Nightshift in my mind
Marvin Gaye, callooh! callay!
Please be a friend in time

Anxiety attacks
I fight on and struggle through
River Eden in the mist
I'm Carolina blue

Try to get to Halloween
Waiting on a friend
Maybe no one understands
Maybe just pretend

But maybe baby lightning strikes
My words they touch her soul
Mystery in history
We live to rock n' roll

                 We stroll.
Mateuš Conrad Jul 2024
the set list:
1. lonesome day
2. seeds
3. my love will not let you down
4. no surrender
5. ghosts
6. letter to you
7. promised land
8. hungry heart
9. spirit in the night
10. reason to believe
11. atlantic city
12. youngstown
13. long walk home
14. e street shuffle
15. nightshift
16. racing in the street
17. the river
18. last man standing
19. backstreets
20. because the night
21. she's the one
22. wrecking ball
23. the rising
24. badlands
25. thunder road
(encore)
26. land of hope and dreams
27. born to run
28. bobby jean
29. dancing in the dark
30. 10th avenue freeze-out
31. twist & shout
32. i'll see you in my dreams

more so than Bob Dylan...
i really started to believe in music again:
i've ******* into failing
asleep on a loop
from Christopher Young's Something to Think
about from the Hellraiser soundtrack
to now mesmerized i quit music is nothing
fun but a cognitive classical
when there was ever a convenient fireplace
of the spades and soap of t.v.

bad idea Boss: to drink and smoke a joint
later:
can't experience the joy of my girls
my girl...
good to interject drinking with some spike of
the weeds
in the water i dwelt
and in the fire i dwelt and in the earth
but Boss: your soundchecks sound better than
some bands...
notably the headache AC/DC men of your age:

Hans Zimmer and the sardaukar chant...
too much Mongolian...
beer and rock and country jazz and some wind
i just wanted to thank New Jersey and
all the Home Counties like
Essex is New Jersey...

white boy beyond blues
and you know the black boys in the team
responding to bad cue-ing: past Q U E E U Q U U e
at least he didn't play: born in the FSA (federal
states of america: because
Hawaii is post American bordering
old daddy Japan and Polynesia my lost continent
little dots on the map
where one mountains and rivers and great cities
grew...

i'm starting to believe in music once more:
as i believe in whiskey
and marijuana
and it's no good drinking 70cl
then smoking:
Adolph Wintertime
Autumnal farts and copper for gold
in the glee of finally tired
spring young teen waking
summer us our lot
autumn this last attempt
to venture into the winter of sleep..

weird sort of experience:
couldn't sleep from 6am and then came 12am
and i was not buzzing
just quizzed:
no Bob Dylan is not as relevant
or... well Tom Petty...
                      
so i updated my mobile: put up personalized
photographs of Reyla and Edie
and i realized that
well: each time i was checking the time
i was looking at pictures of you two:
four to be exact:

he didn't play human touch...
but this was Thursday and not Saturday:
maybe he'll do the Red Hot Chili Peppers
Special of two set-lists...
and instead of Dancing in the Dark
he will play Human Touch...
i'd have an ******...

every time i was playing with my phone to find
a watch
i realized i was showing pictures
of Edie and Reyla to my coworkers...
and something became translated that otherwise
would be simply: mentioned:
those three ******* wanted to go for a cigarette
break: me and ... stayed behind..

strange to believe in music again:
no turn pop and bugglebum bubblegum sweetheart
pop songs of Taylor:
how salvaging the ancients with Brie Sunshine...
for once i left a gig
without a headache without that fog of sound:
drowning letters in the form
of music:
stressed beside the quest for semblance
of silence:
by the quantum of each letter
sung, spoken: thought of...

Taylor does terrible gimmick storyhours:
no drag queens??
Bruce was: 3 hours solid:
all attired in a half missing suit
just a shirt
and that frock of bullet finding
or buttons piercing...
parading bulls too...
and all the escapees of:
my constipated verses
with reading Hemingway...

             Walt Whitman and Bob Dylan
Ernest Hemingway
and Bruce Springsteen...
this idiot on a bicycle: this "job" in the making
was close to making me late to work:
one wheeling down the 103 route
from Petits Lane
to North Street on the A12...
his friends abandoned him:
the boys on the bus asked if they knew him:
some did: problem child:
just so pride of morality:
as most of should have been
that young and reckless: ambitiously nihilistic:

that was the same day?
****...
i switch off and suppose i switch on...
tough cheese:
somehow Parmesan
in Pomerania...

             dearest, i find music again:
i didn't have to allow a faking of needing
the gigging repertoire
of familiar songs...
the song remains and i know the burden
of genius of the insatiable demand of PRINT
send ERROR...

i came home
by allowing my body to speak get touched
this impeding summoning that
requires us all to veto the democracy of
living with the chastising via the toppling
vitro empire with
mort in vivo: death in glass...
best to keep the vitro pristine:
like German concern for purity in beer:
no need to give them 2nd whereabouts within
the confines of German men liking African women...
sorry but i have other fetishes...
south American: Arabic... olive skinned...
flaying...
asking questions...
Lately
I've had a lot going on
In my head

Self created self hatred
Self doubt mystery complications
Being an absolute fool
While she's been on nightshift

Left to my own devices
Self destruction ensues
Create scenarios in my stupid head
Unworthy, idiotic male
Everything to date has been a fail
So why not this, why not now?
Grow up boy.

Flick and click my fingers
Uneasy in my skin
For reasons silly and immature
Stories I create and twist and spin.

Wake up.

Shut down your ego
Slow your train of thought
Calm and moderate your habits
They are the devils playthings.

You're not thinking straight.

Idiot.

Curl up in a cold room
But, you have control
Sleep in a shiver ball
Fool.

If you had the time
I could explain
But, I'd get sidetracked
And I wouldn't get my point across.

What I want to say
What I think
What I feel
And what I say
Is a poor ratio.

I can't say I won't be this way in the future
As I am a mere male
But... I will try.

Without this understanding woman
Her beautiful particularities
And knowing full well
She married an idiot

I would be a terrible mess
Of paranoia and stress
Unable to apologise
Stupid righteous ego.

She was right
I was mistaken
Without any particular scenario
As it was all a dream.

Sorry,
Not sorry.

— The End —