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Mateuš Conrad Nov 2018
.oh ****! now i remember, now i remember that other school of English thought... pragmatism! everything is so rational these days, no wonder that so many mental illness diagnoses exist... apparently every deviance of, "success" is, "magically" worthy of psychiatric scrutiny... but then you get psychopaths in the upper eschallance of society... and they're immune to psychiatric scrutiny... so much for pragmatism... whatever that means these days... what?! e-scha-llan-ce... usher-lance?! oh right, ****, i was going for an adjective... echelon... my adjective? feeling up to the level / rank within an organization, and subsequently, perfecting stated rank with robust, pompousness and erudition, matching up to a pedantic exercise within the confines of either, grammar, or, diction; my bad. see... i don't get it... i could somehow couple up the ancient Greek concept of the Stoic school, and the Epicurean school (of thought)... it became crystal clear... but... but when it comes to the English school of thought? i can't make the logical-leap of a worded multiplication concerning the schools of: egalitarianism, and... pragmatism... maybe i'm just *******... but i... i sometimes can't come at a worded equals sign, or at least: a mutually inclusive / mutually exclusive sharing processor of looking at both attempts to revise 1 + 1 = 2... then again, i'm not bothered... English liberalism doesn't bother me... the English were never libertarian in letting go... who are the English? they have their equivalence among the Prussians... but, yes... i was looking for this noun, this last remaining school of thought from the Anglophone world... i was thinking... what goes well with the cognitive spaghetti that exfoliates egalitarianism? ****... what else? pragmatism! so help me god, i can't concede making this dualism of ideas, perhaps contradictory, perhaps not, as i did with classical thinking... stoicism and Epicurean school i can justify... but the English, somehow complimenting within the realm of pragmatism, and egalitarianism?! good luck, i can't do it.

currently i only identify two schools
of thought in English...
i might change my opinion
in the future...

how, just how petrified people
are of exploring dialectics,
the fear stemming out
from... having opinions that
do not deserve questioning,
such blatant solipsism...

but i do identify two schools
of thought from the English
speaking world...
o.k. three... ****...
four...

egalitarianism...
egalitarian idealism...
unitarism...
utopian-ism...        

****... four, five...
how many in total?

scholasticism, in general...

  there's one more...
i'm sure there's one more...
it's related to egalitarianism...

what's the word i'm looking
for?
a morphed liberalism
of: one freedom can eventually
over-compensate
another statement of freedom
and deride the former liberty
with a... ore ******-up
liberty...

but there was another mode of thinking,
i'm sure of it...

you know that people
are afraid of experiencing dialectics,
when they have to phrase
their opinions:
but these are my personal
opinions...
   yep... stated in a public sphere...
why is it that i don't
make videos?
      your freedom of speech
is one thing...
mine? constricted to the comment
section...
   this? an extension of thought,
since i'm bashing a blank piece
of "paper"...

what was the other root of the English
school of thought?!
no... it wasn't universalism...
England, given the stated terms...
is a covert communist state...
a subdued communist state...
a dubiousness from the empirically
tested experiment...
where did Marx and Engels
concentrate their observational
capacities if not in England?
weird...

  communism originated in England
under, said, sociological observations,
was tested in Mongolia...
and then returned via Russia to
Eastern Europe...

*****... gets to my head...
it might come to be two days later,
but i'm sure i wanted
to work with another school of thought
from the English demand
for the egalitarian take on things...

looking at the English,
i see a people burdened by a desire
to make "things"... fair...
          i see people teasing Utopia...
a people who haven't experienced
a momentary transition period
of a quasi-Utopia of communism....
within the countries that
received the Bolshevik mantra
and not the Marshall Plan payout...
even Sweden (neutral, source of inspiration
for the Nazis) and Switzerland
received Marshall Plan funds...

       but the English...
              what an oddity...
oh i don't imply a demeaning
interpretation...
       but the English are teasing
a revival of socialism...
you know how many archetypical
human emotions socialism curbs?
you can't do it unless
subjected to foreign rule...
given the current Brexit agreements:
now's your chance...

but socialism really did originate
in this fine, fine land...
Marx didn't look alongside
Engels outside of England...
they looked at Liverpool...
and children being employed...
German children had Krampus...
English children had
work in the factories...

this probably is an over-simplification
of history, but all the details
are there...
personally?
i find English existentialism
(if there is such a "thing")
over-powered by Darwinism's
over-simplifications...
Darwinism, having killed modern
or pre-modern history,
having to expand beyond
our known, and kept history...

a big bang theory i can deal
with...
i can congest it into a subscript
of words, via a conceptualization
of atoms...
and bigger atoms,
suns... protons, neutrons,
planets...
and electrons...
lost in the realm of sub-atomic
particles and antimatter...

but when i go back to Poland?
you know what i don't hear much of?
overly simplified existential
explanations pivoting on
nothing, but Darwinism...
in England it's all Darwinism,
and not much more...
i guess when Einstein disproved
Newton,
the only thing motivating
English culture boiled down
to focusing and pivoting on Darwin...

outside of England?
you know how important Darwin
is?
          in Poland... Mickiewicz...
a poet...
                         Copernicus...
            a astronomer...
            and in Russia?
Dostoyevsky...
          Tolstoy...
                     Mendeleev,
Tchaikovsky,
Rasputin,
                      Prokofiev­,
Bulgakov...
        Kandinsky...
               Anna Andreyevna...
Chekov...
                      how much is
Michael Faraday worth these
days in England,
if you're going to celebrate
only the scientists
and shove every artist
into the shadow of Shakespeare?!

i really shouldn't drink
*****...
                       i go crazy crude,
mad and... it's *****!
       you can't mellow out like
you could mellow out with
ms. amber, of the Scottish highlands!
ConnectHook Apr 2016
♂ ♂ ♂ ♂ ♂ ♂ ♂ ♂ ♂ ♂ ♂

Fatherless broods, whose mothers hoped for change

Fight the law, abort their restoration;

Attack, burn, riot… consider nothing strange

Extorting payout from their host nation.

Fatherhood, dark elephant in the room,

Denigrated, dissed by baby-mamas

In his absence, speaks potently of doom

(Apparently blessed by both Obamas…)

***** donation, filling the wombs with child,

Disorganized communities, off-course

Guarantee police work when thugs run wild.

With marriage faltering in the race: lame horse.

Inhuman nature being what it is

Be careful who you shoot—and hold your ****.
♂ ♂ ♂ ♂ ♂ ♂ ♂ ♂ ♂ ♂ ♂
a  poem a day for NaPoWriMo2016
You pathetic fickle readers can't even hit like ?
2 h3ll w/U !
            ✿
www.connecthook.wordpress.com
            ☮
All our country's taxpayers are becoming enraged
Bailing out companies which have been mismanaged
Countless millions have been forked out
Dollar amounts which are exceptionally stout
Ever the taxpayer is called upon to cough up
Filling the always depleted company's cup
Giving generously has got to cease pretty soon
Helping them is a cost that's gone well beyond the moon
Injecting our hard earned is too much
Just let them stand on their own crutch
Kick those CEO's into a reality check fashion
Let them not receive anymore of our kind ration
Money has been misspent by our former government
Never ending the out flow it's time for some abatement
Offer not another cent to those ailing companies
Propping them stresses the taxpayer's arteries
Questions must be asked about those per unit costs
Regularly increasing and so high are their imposts
Shores abroad can produce goods for lesser amounts
They run a more efficient book of accounts
Under a burgeoning payout us taxpayers are gripped
Vast savings we'd make if they were nipped
We've been supporting the big end of town for years
X marks the spot where we've been left in arrears
Yonder the companies can take their travails
Zilch is what they'll be receiving from our taxpayer bails
Mateuš Conrad Jun 2016
most days i just wake up, and think to myself: hell, might as well crack open a beer, other times i think to myself: a girlfriend would be useful, the perfect fidgety object for my compassion, the necessary constant prancing, the concern for a household with napkins and curtains and scented candles, but then i turn toward amusing myself and the beer waits for me, and so that's how the days pass, me slothful in many yoga-like slouches patting my beer-belly and feeling content.

i just realised it, one coffee later,
sunny weather - looking directly into the sun,
and noticing it's the only thing that reveals
vibrations, look at long enough and you can
almost see it rotating, i can't explain it
any other way, it's this pulsating ultra-violet
thumping of the rotas - i know it sounds
absurd to state that i can see ultra-violet light,
but if you look at the sun long enough
there's this strange shadowy-white pulsation
evidently chaotic - some would say there's
yellow in that orb, perhaps with a telescopic
photograph or something, the way
everything glistens like a newly hatched chicken
egg with the fatty glistening on leaves -
yes, oddly enough there are lipids (a type of fat)
in leaves, they're called *acyl lipids
,
arabidopsis leaves and what not - a scene
in a shower, bubbles on skin, fatty skin doesn't
allow water to congregate - cooking pasta,
a little bit of olive oil added to the boiling pasta
doesn't make the pasta stick, bubbles of fat floating
about - so there are these fatty acids - so i'm guessing
lean anorexic alkalies - shtick men -
suberin-associated waxes in seeds and roots -
to then realise that you haven't finished Hemingway's
for whom the bell tolls having chosen it
over homage to Catalonia (formerly known as Aragon,
hence the Aragonese) - left it, page 165 or something
with a bookmark of a Warsaw bus ticket (2.50zł) -
oh sure i liked his over works, but this was his
bestseller - and that's the thing with bestsellers,
once the hype spreads it's just that, a hype,
bestsellers don't genuinely feed you anything worthwhile,
you could probably read a moveable feast about
twenty times - bestsellers are a bit like buying
life insurance and then ******* off under a lorry
in a traffic accident, without having the capacity
to be injured into a debilitating state and using up
the insurance payout - just like a bestseller, you buy it
and never get to finish it - it just isn't demanding
or intricate to the extent of perplexity you expected -
a literary Bergman - because any other host would
dare dabble in cinematic existentialism other than
the Scandinavians?
                                   and this is the point where
i loose the plot - because there isn't one -
first i was musing having a beer, then talking crap
about seeing ultra-violet light by staring at the sun
directly - then fats in leaves... who the hell would have
the patience to read this ****?
The end of
the six day
work week
blessedly
arrived for
the weary
seamstresses.

The thought
alone
returned
dexterity
to fingers
numbed
by the
monotony
of repetitive
motion and
eased the
incessant
ache of
lower backs
and stiffened
shoulders.

The
exhausted
women
would soon
deposit their
subsistence
wages for
piece meal
work into
worn knit
purses,
mentally
noting
items to
purchase at
the market
on the way
home.

At the head
of the line
stood the
bumptious
paymaster
barking at the
compliant women
"to keep in line
and keep in mind"
any honorariums
due him.

The workers,
youngest
to the oldest
counted the
tokens
in hand to
discern
the weeks
approximate
payout.

Lack of
math skills,
the uncertainty of
unjust deductions
and poor command
of English
made net pay
calculations
impossible
to deduce.

Passing time
in the pay line
the swelling
sound
of trilling
voices rolled
along the queue.

Wise
Yiddish
axioms
and Italianate
passions joined
to bespeak
the ecstasies of
the human
condition.

The strange
hybrid dialect
filling the room
busily hailed
the coming
day of rest,
blessed
the faces of
kissed children,
imagined
the warmth given
from a lump
of coal,
explored
the bumpy feel
of hardened
scabs,
sounded hope
for a cloudless
Sunday,
expressed
remorse over
calloused hands
and the hope
that they could
become soft
and youthful again.

One woman
with a swollen jaw
mouthed an
anguished dread
of rejoining a
violent husband.

A buoyant
Rose,
with glittering
eye,
whispered
the joys
potential courtship
with a distant cousin;
while the
***** laughs
of a randy group
of union maids
imagined
the luxury of
a Saturday night
bath and amorous
encounters with
broad shouldered
lovers.

One thick legged
woman hummed
happily as she imagined
picking up a ham-bone for
the soup kettle.

A freckled faced girl
and a mid-aged
German woman each
tearfully fretted over
the ritual turnover
of their wages
to a disabled father
and drunkard husband.

The hope of a
speedy and safe
delivery of a child
was prayed for by a
late term, big busted
mother of four,
while another worried
that the infection
of a cut finger
would heal and
her home bound
children afflicted with
terminal hunger
will have some bread
tonight and
porridge tomorrow.

The outbreak of the
fire changed all
their day dreams
and concerns
into frightful
screams,
nightmarish
death leaps
and eternal rest
for 146 workers
of the Triangle
Waist Company
on March 25, 1911.

May their
small knit purses
be filled with the
pleasant dreams
they wished for
themselves and others
as divine compensation
for their earthy labors
and may
they find a restful
peace in an
eternity of Sundays
enjoyed in the
company of
family,
lovers
and
friends.

Selah

Today marks the 100th Anniversary of the Triangle Waist Company fire in New York City. It killed 146 people the vast majority immigrant woman who worked at the company. The Triangle Fire is a seminal event in the US labor movement that lead to the recognition of labor unions as vehicles for workers rights and social justice. More on the Triangle Fire can found here on this wonderful sight from Cornell University.

Oakland
3/25/11
jbm
René Mutumé Jan 2013
i’m always glad
when a joke comes along
it’s all the casinos and things i am
and ever been lost in
i was bored
and no boredom kills you like lust does
it’s red when you bet red
all the time
and you’ll be alone
between periods of manic payout and disbelief
if you don’t leave
and slap the croupier on the ***
and ask them to join.
Maximus Tamo Apr 2016
Day 87
We hit a harder seam today,
Several pics broke,
Gami is still sick,
I think he will pass soon,
Our food is holding well,

Day 92
We are though the bedrock,
Soon we will hit pay dirt,
A team met us with fresh tools; This means blisters again,
Morale is dropping; Gami is hallucinating,
Today he called out to Ragem; Why would a god answer him?
He is a hindrance,
Food supplies are still sufficient,

Day 93
My day-clock was broken today,
Glimli found the first gem of the mission,
In the shuffle someone smashed my clock,
It will be harder to deal with no light now,
I want Gami gone, Things are going wrong,
No one will turn back, god help us,

Day 96* *I think
I am doing my best to keep time,
When I am off the pic line I count seconds,
Gami has grown silent, I expect to bury him soon,
My bad luck has not gotten worse, I found a gem today,
We have begun filling the first of twenty carts,
Our food stores continue to hold,

Day 100?
I lost all time, We are all attempting to recreate day,
We light a lamp at three quarters oil,
While it burns we think day, when it dies; night
Gami seems to be coming back from the edge,
Today he walked on his own,
A wyrm and some rot were found in our grain,
I fear my luck has left again, I offered my first meal to Ragem,

Day 100 Something
I need to leave, Gami has recovered but his brain is damaged,
He speaks gibberish, He is insane,
The others follow him because he claims to have seen Ragem,
Gami has been given two guards, and a throne,
I don't understand whats happening,
We continued though pay dirt; found several gems today,
I have heard the walls whisper, we will begin supporting the ceiling,

120 at least
It's over we will die here, Going is so slow,
Putting supports up quarters our progress,
We expected a relief train earlier, no one has come,
Gami is ruling, everyone obeys him, but why??
I need to dethrone him, but the others will take his side,..
He must die, I will **** him,
I am developing a plan to get close to him,
Food has been rationed, I suspect because Gami is piggish,

Day 130
Today is the day of Death,
I warned Gami that the ceiling was loose,
He sent three men including one of his guards to the pic line,
They were killed swiftly by a large release from the roof,
Also two men died of sickness, likely from bad grain,
I have showed intrest in being Gami's guard, I shall not write if I am,
For fear of this falling into the wrong hands,
Ragem help me!!!




Day 145
I DID IT! I was able to **** Gami,
I followed him to the back of the group for his rest,
While he slept I placed the prepared rock in his mouth,
Then struck it with another driving it into his throat,
He died silently, and no one ask any questions,
Life has returned to normal; mostly,
We are very short on food, and continue to have bad luck,
Our gem payout is very shy of what it ought to be,
We will turn to steeper tunnels,
Praise Ragem!

Day 150
Our food is gone, few people have personal stashes,
We sent a party back up the tunnel to look for a relief train,
They have not returned, There are only fifteen of us left,
Our steeper tunnels have helped with our payout,
Hunger is always in my fore mind,
I hope they return soon,

They are here! They found the party killed but not pillaged,
Someone kept them from delivering the food and tools!
I suggested that Gami may have, to keep it for himself,
This seems to be the accepted reason, But Give Thanks, FOOD!

Day 160
Sickness persists, total numbers are down to twelve,
The sounds of the dead are all around, I fear death,
Supplies are full, but morale is horrible,
The good earth continues to give up her gems,
Maybe we will finish this work and return home?
I have been called to fill in for deceased, work loads are increasing,

Day 166
I am completely exhausted, two more have died today,
But the others seem to be recovering, Our carts are almost filled,
There is hope for survival,
There are now ten of us, shifts are halved, and rations are doubled,
Work has slowed, The walls seem to breath, Telling us to leave,
I miss my table, my wine, and my wife,

Day Something
We have decided to turn back, We dug into a chasm,
The pic line broke into it, then the rocks they stood on fell,
We lost three good men, The chasm is deeper than we can see,
There is orange light and fog at the bottom,
It will be hard to push these carts up the steeper tunnels,
Supplies hold well, has bad luck returned?


Final Entry
It is all over, as we pushed our riches up and up, The floor broke,
Dropping us into another, older, tunnel, The gems went everywhere,
Two more men were crushed by rock and carts,
We have no way to return to the tunnel above us,
We do not know which way is out,
Furthermore our food sits ten feet above us, watching us starve,
Why did I not turn back when I had the chance,

**Sweetie I love you and I I .. Cannot say how much I need,:;,.. Without anywhere to see my.:'"; AHHHHhhhhh.....
nick armbrister Apr 2018
Death Cash
Life insurance death payout doesn’t make sense
Surely you’re meant to be a live to enjoy the payout?
But they only pay when you’re dead and buried
Something aint right there…
Francie Lynch Jul 2017
I just heard about the near miss.
My mind was elsewhere.
Pleased to hear about Syria,
But it was elsewhere.
I didn't know Pippa had a wardrobe malfunction,
The loss of the Toronto Blue Jays,
The deformed frogs and west coast fires,
And the downing of a 747 somewhere in the Asiatic Sea.
Big news. Bigger problems!
But, like I said, my mind was elsewhere.
Like the ten million payout to the terrorist from Canada
Whose human rights were violated.
I didn't hear that one til today.
I just heard there's been a few transformations
For Caitlyn and Donald. Hope they like their new lives.
My mind was elsewhere,
And I've left it there.
Whew!
Did you hear something about North Korea launching ICBM's?
the alimony money
keeps me
warmer
than you ever did
it keeps
me toasty warm
every folding quid

you never stayed
at home
to pour your love
on me
these days
it's so grand
being enfolded
in your money

it was a D Day
in the divorce court
you had to pay me
a big payout
for all those years
you'd been
playing about

I sleep the sleep
of the thankful
that indeed I do
with the cash recompense
which fell
so rightfully due

looking back on those times
when my man
wasn't at my side
he was chasing
other skirts
being most untrue
to his bride

my heart is comforted
at the amount of dough
I possess
such a substantial sum
of happy redress

honey your alimony money
makes my life so so sunny
nico papayiannis Feb 2016
Politics of power politics of greed, politics we don't really need
Words with no meaning, words of war, words to exasperate all the wrongs of before
Men in bowler hats from higher degrees of education, Suffragettes in suits with their posh procrastinations
Radicalised preachers disguised as primary school teachers, morals and values that have no worth, morals and values to discolour our earth
Politicians with a fame fascination, politicians on their own inert instruction
Politics of verbal constipation, designed in a way you will never comprehend, politics of corruption and manipulation,  politics to make your thoughts unlawfully twist and bend
Politics that so easily steal from a dying hand, politics that allows our old to die where they stand
The politicians expense account, this just helps the animosity amount, our money, our stability our very existence, put to one side and dealt with the utmost of contempt if you offer up any form of resistance
Politics of minorities who the majority doesn't want or need and should rightfully and respectfully be abolished, when you look at our world  our people, and how they suffer, the responsibility lays firmly at their feet for with their megalomaniac ways , our world they have tarnished
I personally do not vote, how can I, when all they do is lie, I'm sure in-between, this cataclysmic scene, someone has the heart, the integrity and honour to want to serve the people of their nation, but I guess , like the rest , they'll accept their payout, sign on a dotted line, and never scream, never shout
JoJo Nguyen Nov 2013
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Elin Sep 2020
What drew you to this job?

Truthfully, survival

I lie and say
I’ve always been passionate about textiles

Like the pretentious clothing this company creates
My answer is carefully tailored to appeal to my market audience

Yesterday I was passionate about data entry
Tomorrow I’ll be passionate about customer retention and management

I’ve learnt to lick the boot that pins me down in place

What does your dream job look like?

I don’t bother telling them that I no longer dream of labour

I recite the appropriate buzzwords
Sense of progression
Work-life balance
Meaningful connections
Bile rises in my throat

What do you hope to achieve in life?

My father wasted away his best years in a job that landed him in hospital
A heart attack and redundancy payout all the thanks he got

All so he could eventually retire and do what he actually loved; woodworking

He’d never been able to make a career of it
He couldn’t find a ‘market’ for it

Maybe it was because he never learnt to market himself, to sell himself

Not in that sense
Instead he sold himself

He sold his body to a timber mill

Maybe he thought it would be temporary
But then he had to give up his woodworking
Because working the wood at the mill left him exhausted

He had to sell his soul for decades until the system finally let him be

I want something different than what the system offers
But there is no alternative to the system

It offers me 50 flavours of consumption
32 different shades of participation
But no option not to consume
Not to participate

I no longer have lofty ideals
When I was young I wanted to be a famous writer
I wanted to travel and see the world

Now I just want to exist

But even my very existence comes at a cost
To merely exist I am still expected to participate
To consume and be consumed
Sell myself to whoever will pay
for what little I have to offer

Thank you for your time
Blythe Barrymore May 2014
Your soul is far more beautiful than mine,
You've got more miles on your heart,
This must be fate,
I'm so very lucky to have met you at this time.
You're too honest for this world,
And to I; you're too kind,
Don't fight back against the facts,
It seems as though you don't follow the most traveled path,
But there is nothing you lack,
And if you'll let me;
I promise to always have your back.

And like the rain that comes down every now and then,
Emotions I did not know I could feel flood my head,
It's no wonder I can't sleep through the night alone in this bed,
And when in the morning I leave, tis the very time of day that I dred.

I crave your body like a bloodthirsty wolf,
And I'll accept this new found hunger; my judgement it will engulf,
But this broken heart of mine would be much too difficult to mend,
And this wavering depression is a bit to high maintenance to tend,
My baggage is ample,
And I learned long ago that to feel happy; I no longer can pretend.

So if you're feeling up to the task,
Inspired to see what's behind this mask,
The payout is well worth it,
In my bountiful love you may bask.
Monsanto's roundup
never failed to **** the weeds
Monsanto's roundup
being known for deadly deeds

of late a court case
has hit the headlines
on behalf of a grounds man
who'd sprayed roundup
over rambling vines

he'd ingested the product's
residual mist
whereupon his body became
sick from its whist

other plaintiffs are gearing
up for a trial date
which will mean the suing
of Monsanto won't abate

hefty cash payout
can but damage the company's
profitable reputation
on lawyers presenting
evidence of the **** killer's
lethal saturation

and people in countries
off shore will obtain a chance
in litigation against the corporate entity's
expenditure advance

Monsanto's roundup
never failed to **** the weeds
Monsanto's roundup
being known for deadly deeds
Got Guanxi Nov 2015
i’m singing happiness,
from a place of despair.

Those dark lights
emphasis the spark
of brightness lost in the night.

as we soldier on,
with a chip on our shoulder,
weapons at arms,

take a moment to relax,
reload,
and aim for the stars

We don't mean you no harm,
and I know that it's strange,
to aim for the target
knowing those bullets aint remotely in range.

do it again,
we do it again,

we’ll see how close we can get,
anyway.

In the darkness we slept in world records  of our evenings,
believing in better days.

maybe,
but knowing better anyway.

the law of averages say it in lehmans terms,

i’m the reason for the medium,
the yin and yang of the best made plans.

they never last until completion,
just good intentions and interventions,
it could of meant something to someone surely.

if not me,
i’m bored by the habitual routines,
a scene only has meaning,
if it’s set with intention from beings,
if you get what i mean.

so long society,
as i quietly slip from your succulent grasp.
i’ve been meaning to ask do you swallow them whole?
or do you devour the body first,
and then feed on the soul?

society has forsaken me,
i won’t go quietly into the slot for me,

live life like a slot machine,
accosted by the cost of life and human beings.

Waiting patiently for the payout that never comes.
Julia Oct 2019
Did you know I’m brave?
Did you know I’m caring?
Did you know I’m extraordinary?

I’d like to cash these in.
I’d like a payout.
I’d like something in return.

Did you know I’m weak?
Did you know I’m pathetic?
Did you know I’m ungrateful?

I’d like to be punished.
I’d like to be held accountable.
I’d like to bleed away my guilt.

If you’re still listening,
I’d like to know what it is
that I truly deserve.
I’d like to feel free from worrying
that I’m taking too much,
Or not enough,
Or too much,
Or not enough
#9
The sun rained down on the city that day
the day that everything changed

The old man walked alone that day
watching as his feet hit the ground
every step was a new beginning
and he was surprised by what he found

The children played together that day
wishing they could grow up too fast
not knowing how quick it would  come anyways,
they still wished to forget the past

The mother sat alone that day
surrounded by empty minds
mourning the loss of her little girl
tears came with every new thing she finds

The girl was surrounded that day
as darkness filled the air
thinking about what would come next
every thought was too much to bare

The man drove for only himself that day
losing control with every mile
every action had a payout
that broke spirits and smile
Olivia Kent Jun 2014
Get out of my house she screamed,
wasn't at all a bit like it seemed,
behind him,
she slung his carrier bags,
an old sleeping bag,
and a bundle of rags,
after a row,
silly cow,
she said,
you're not welcome here.
was just a stupid row,
and she's not  really a silly cow.

That night,
the evening fell into disquiet,
the once loving moments had turned into a riot.
dragged his carriers behind him as he walked down the street,
tripping over his muddled up feet,

Night fell, so did he,
In much distress a bloodied mess,
landed on homeless spikes,
landed hard,
landed fast,
anchored to the spot,
poor sod,
not terribly long,
but that poor fellow,
well he punctured a lung,
A passing friend,
noticed his distress,
called the paramedics to come and assess,

Carted him off to the hospital,
the one that still had an A+E,
stuffed in a chest drain,
a little more pain,
and then,
along came the brief,
gave the company grief,

Received a big payout,
went home to the wife,
you remember the one,
who first gave him the strife.
(C) Livvi
Anti-homeless spikes in London created this bizarre write!
nick armbrister Apr 2018
Uncle Sam
When will the company payout?
Just like Catch 22
All the benefits come after death
You sign on the line

And pay the cash
For the listed benefits
But you don’t see them
Not a single ******* one

They’re left to your loved ones
Don’t have a wife or kids?
Too bad then
Uncle Sam will claim your benefits

To enrich his war chest
And defeat the *** and the ****
And the Reds after that
The benefits are all his
GaryFairy Sep 2021
I will award one poet with $50 USD via moneygram, paypal, donation to charity of your choice, or any other safe and secure method.

make me

feel something
know something
try something
hate something
love something
accept something
discover something that i am missing

this is not affiliated with any website or organization, but just $50 of my money that I want to share(i have all i need)

i promise i will try not to be prejudiced in any way, and i ask that anyone enter, no matter education level or any other "levels"...the winner will be decided by what moves me, and will have nothing to do with styles, forms, rhyming, etc

i may ask a few to help me verify certain things and if you would like to help me with this big money contest just msg me here. I may decide on having more winners, but the 50 dollar top prize is for sure(barring i don't die)

You will also win my prestigious Future Poet Award(a piece of paper?) Even if you hate me, you can get my money! Anyone who enters is a winner and i will post poems on my FB poetry page(BIGTIME). Contest ends November !st and payout will be within 10 days after contest ends. This is for real! Don't miss out on MONEY.

no cheating!
Stepping onto the spray of pebbles
making our way onto the grounds
I considered to myself
And to myself alone
This will be a pleasant evening
with all parties involved behaving
as they should
Or something else entirely.
Something low.
Bellies down.

We gathered before
a small card table and
made our way unsteadily
Weaving up the incline
like skiers intertwining
down the molehills
to the properties.
Up is down.
Not good.

You moved to the right
Sprinkling pleasantries in one direction
and into one direction only.
Close and physical.
Like a sprite always looking up in quiet confidences
But a bit too early.
I wondered
Did the companion notice?
Can this companion see the play?

When too many seconds pass
And it’s time to head to the right
Where I am strolling
Disturbingly care free
Unattached and
No sign of attaching
You shakily try a few words
Yet offer no enticements
for that **** costs
It’s expensive
So you hoard and bestow sparingly
To well considered targets

Knowing this
And that there will be no payout
My body has told you that much
You return back to the companion
again and again
Softly stepping And considering
with your magical archetype-wielding
Hustle and shake down.
A threadbare con under the moon
And blackened sky.
I am left alone.

I had looked into your eyes at some point
and wondered
What are you? Peering deeply.
Are you a daemon?
I felt badly. To wonder
And certainly not for the first time
That this extended moment
sitting side by side
On stools
In the Mexican night
Was with some kind of creature
Not human
Not kind
A predator
You said so yourself
With pretty eyes
And two harmless old canines.

We sat and waited for the companion
Who showed up with a bottle of wine
And we sauntered back to your rental
The senile dogs entered and retreated immediately
into the darkness
to face the walls
immobile yet somehow agitated
A bad sign.
Spirits are here.
The dogs are aware.
You have said that they could be
Easily corrupted by being pure souls.
By a force that’s
bent upon the destruction of
All Souls
Not just dogs.
However if you asked me
The devil gets his due.

God that’s funny.

You withdrew to get them sorted
In the darkened rooms
Especially that dusky mauve poodle
A miniature with a frazzled dying coat
And questionable eyes
Blindness or Defeated?

You and the companion dug into your chicken
Ravenous and American style.
I, horrified, ate a bland soup of corn

Out came notes and pens and post-its
And the data was exchanged across
the central kitchen prep-table
with the white quartz top.
You paused and turned to your right
Facing me and my spoon
And speaking under your breath to your shoulder
Confirming with your angels
and channeling guides
That the real estate numbers looked good,
In what wasn’t any language
that I’m familiar with,
But they validated your inquiry
As they should
And perhaps you scribbled a notation
Or a mathematical calculation
Perhaps not

The companion saw none of this
Apparently hearing no little squawks or soft babble
Too busy grinding into her meal
and her resentment.
This is not going well at all.
My soup is bad
My company is bad
I must change this immediately.

But
The companion has a word for me
Instead
You are too nice
You have made yourself too available
You will get hurt by bad people in this town
You with that sweet smile
Warm hands
huggable shoulders
kissable face
and laughing eyes and all those euros in your
Change purse!
They will mean you harm.
I know about these things.

I chose not mention the man that drew my portrait that day
Although it did look like a rock
And yes the one that arrived at our lunch unannounced and uninvited
That did not go over well either.

But you
You have your daemon
You are safe
And protected
And loved
Touching fingers
And make offerings at her altar
by way of undeveloped but
prime
real estate
Giving the devil her due.
absinthe Feb 2017
i find it unnecessary
to exchange mixtures of letters
with the receiver i once did see me
engaging in foreseen endeavors with
but history tore me and we  

though i now retract
exceptions are had
such as
when i choose to detract
the warmth i had way back
in the past
when our fire did not brand
but did attract
us to one another
not like now
and how it knows
how to protract
to engulf us
to turn good
into bad

i release resistant exhales
and doubt
on newfound callousness i once could
reroute
only when allowed by a sizable
payout
even if along the way

it cracks

the heart
i once had

and the heart
i once had
sworn
on my life
to pass
for
before

i
let it
pass.
Ryan Frisby Dec 2015
A lot of people died for no reason
today, Friday the 13th...
I don't know how to rationalize
these kinds of crimes
against being human and respecting life
because no amount of strife
no payout
no political scandal
no extreme statement
should make the heart vacant
unable to handle
any fuel but the fire of hate
for all who "do not relate"

but the longer you seethe it
the more you breathe it
and sooner or later you'll be it

hate hates you
just as much as you hate them
doesn't care that it's leading you to your end
the demise of your abysmal skies
and tonight the world cries

but it's sickening
how we're unsurprised
unphased by the quicksand thickening
a noose
slowly squeezing our humanity out
we're in a drought

we need a revolution
and love is the solution
and people have been screaming that
since the beginning of time
and now it's imperative we listen
because nights like this just aren't fun
they're heavy for everyone
because we are one
and tonight, once again
we've only brought each other pain

*why the **** did we ever invent the gun?
Creepstar Mar 2016
Falling or elating
For someone else
All the time you'll spend waiting
For a reply bad for self

I want a deep conversation
And to know they're there
What is liberation?
If you can't know there's care?

They can say that they want you
As all others do
But the feeling will haunt you
Pain you'll drag yourself through

Its a lonely life
To be so deep in love
No more than strife
For the person thinking of

Yeah you can buy them flowers
Or maybe buy a ring
But if they have walls as tall as towers
It doesn't mean a thing

You'll pace and wander
In a restless state
While growing fonder
Still you have to wait

All you'll ever want
Is just to talk to them
The time they take will taunt
Like digging up a gem

Just to get a payout
Of some emotional worth
How much longer can you stay out?
Before you decide to leave this earth
Ashwin Kumar Jul 2022
Hiring For Investment Banking roles
Is like wading through a swamp
At first, it may appear as easy
As winning the French Open is, for Rafael Nadal
Since there is a decent pool of candidates
Waiting to be tapped into
However, as the old cliche goes
Appearances are deceptive
There are numerous pits
In the form of various factors
That influence the interest levels
Of each and every candidate
Such as, the job location
The salary
The bonus payout
The appraisal cycle
The scope of the role
The reporting manager
The brand
And most importantly, the work culture
It requires a truckload of skills
As well as a fat lot of luck
To maneuver your way through the swamp
And successfully avoid these pits
Which lurk in the shadows
Waiting to catch you unawares
One slip-up, and you may lose a candidate
Every time that happens
You'll find yourself sinking into the mud
Slowly, but surely
The harder you try to escape
The deeper you end up sinking
By the time you find that "perfect candidate"
Your face is all that will remain above the surface
And the only thing that can save you
Is the client uttering the magic words
"This position is now on hold"
Michael Oct 2018
Life is hard,
That’s the way it’s meant to be.
We try so hard,
This is easy to see.
They say hard work pays off in the end,
On this I disagree.
How can death be the payout,
That doesn’t seem good to me.
We fight,
We struggle,
This is what makes our life.
If it was easy we’d have no reason,
No reason to fight,
And push for something better.
The final destination is irrelevant,
It’s the journey that makes us.
Hardship is what makes us.
John Bartholomew Sep 2018
You look at the television, a new series is starting
Wife's making the tea, kettle boils, just waiting in the kitchen
3 minutes in, a face appears, it takes a minute to click
Honey, who's this guy, I've seen him before but it just wont tick

Hot drink in each hand, she steps in, looks, pauses and takes a think
Oh, he was in whats it called, that show with the family on the brink
He tried to ****** the mother to get the payout to feed the kids
No, different guy, he's in Corrie now emptying the bins

Keep watching, it'll come, this confusion that matters to nothing
But it's bugging, so frustrating, his face was definitely in something
What's his name, well I don't know, we'll have to wait until the end
Click on the info button, it'll show up there, I might even have to phone a friend

OK, nobody has mentioned him for a while, what was his name?
Been around the block a bit but not known for his fame
Appeared in The Bill, Birds of a Feather and Celebrity Generation Game
But a face you forget, an accent non describable and tomorrow you'd still forget it again

An every man, he fits in the plan, can take any role and just blend into the background
A speaking part, a bit-part actor, was even in some major films but never talk of the town
And then you look down in Tesco's, his name at last you see on a DVD in the bargain bin, great, its him!

But what was he in?!

JJB
“People are supposed to fear the unknown, but ignorance is bliss when knowledge is so **** frightening.” ― Laurell K. Hamilton

“Nothing is more frightening than a fear you cannot name.” ― Cornelia Funke

“what you don't know, you don't miss” ― Cecelia Ahern
Kurt Philip Behm Nov 2016
Professional Poet,
  I cringe at the term

A lonely consensus,
  so much to learn

Days writing couplets,
  nights dreamed in verse

Feelings when gifted,
  not mine to rehearse

Professional Poet,
  to run and then hide

Resisting the accolade,
   cousin of lies

The Muse calls my marker,
  chits payout in thought

Each line spoken freely,
—no longer store bought

(Villanova Pennsylvania: November, 2016)
JaxSpade Oct 2018
Writing on down
Falling
Toward the ground
Calling
You found
Wanting
A way out
But nothing was
Drawn in the payout
No body knew your name
To say it
Writing on down
Falling
The pavement
Catches your pens
Payment
Drawing
Pictures of
Enslavement
You tried to break out
But found doubt
That was painted
Fell
In replacement
Of the sell
You wanted to tell
The story that ends at a wall
Writing down
The bricks that fall
Toward the ground
You found
Wanting it all
The way out
Was inside the pen
You swung as a sword
Unto the ears mouths
Writing what was falling
Was resolving what
You thought it allowed
Down further you spiral
Into the abyss of high lows
Never knowing
Where the end is now
You can picture it
But you don't know how
So you keep on writing
Pushing and sliding
The ink over countless
Rhymes in a row
The beginning
Was repeating the same words
You said many times before
Over and ending
Scrambling the yolks
Bending the syllables
Into the same old folks
You realize infinity
Was multiplied by 3.14
A PI that lasts forever more
Than you've ever tried before
That difference left an imprint
Where you fell
Writing down what you saw
When you fell on the floor
Ink spilled into a dream killed
And you ended up
Nothing but a corpse
Pictures of me as a baby, getting held up by my T-Lady,it's crazy,
How memories fade me, played me, back to the old scenery,
Hickory styles saw problems miles, away before, I had to dial,
Calls from the images brung, question, why jesus was hung,
On the cross, I'm stuck at a loss,  choices, off the coin toss,
Heads or tail, will freedoms prevail, only times of hell, will tell,
Can ya smell, my cologne still tryna cover the bones, stones,
Laid out, squeezing for a minor payout, stayed out,
Pass curfew only a few, broke the cavi, and cracked the brew,
Late night skool, fake jewels, breaking all, the house rules,
Cruise on the highway, the fly away, always see a better day,
Gotta make moves,before the next day, hands for the pray,
Hoping that God, favors my evens, against all odds, smogged,
From glory, in my early days always, splash the purple haze,
Renegade, lay it down like Johnny blaze, statures on a tase,
Amazed, keep the critics phased, no half way pays, worlds a stage,
Thoughts uncaged, let the lions out, see how many, grow in doubt,

— The End —