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Zulu Samperfas Mar 2013
The stress in my body was palpable, and at work, still heading to that dreadful place
The theater where I wasted countless hours and now had to go to an endless meeting
with death by Powerpoint and be told that if I just SMILE then students, even low
struggling, alienated, overlooked students who have fallen through the cracks of society
so early in their childhoods that they now prefer that dank and ***** environment to
daylight
But if I SMILE at them when talking about taking a standardized test which will determine
if these forgotten abouts and given up upons who are now hardened to that reality and resent any
disturbance of it, just SMILE and they will be excited to take that test and it's been proven by science after all said the principal who was also SMILING at us, the staff that doesn't matter except if you have been there a thousand years and one half and also went to one of their schools, and the Powerpoint, the powerpoint I could hardly watch because it featured our mascot the coyote hunting down and killing in the snow, and ended with a coyote, blood on its gums, snarling past the camera viciously, like a true predator, and that, that was supposed to motivate me to SMILE and get juiced to tell the downtrodden to look forward to their fate of failing the test and trying again and again in order to graduate.  Over and over, the same test. That haunting snarl.
That threat. That fake, pasted on smile. There is no love there, only control and threats and backstabbing, but it is only work.

And she stood there, her hand firmly massaging her chin as if there were whiskers there that needed to be combed and comforted and the high pitched presentation went on and I felt my body filled with energy and desire and maybe this is what a testosterone soaked man feels but
she didn't even look at me as I passed by, just made a purpose of staring at her set which is such a feeble attempt, that the big guy hasn't even been called in to help with it

And I thought the most satisfying thing in the whole world would be to just walk right up to her and clock her one in the face with my right arm which is stronger, followed by a left hook and some kicks and after that it would be just crazy mayhem and no girlish hair pulling because...
I was so angry and it was like a thirst to destroy this person who just picked up my accomplishment and called it her own to the applause of the smiling principal and the high pitched associated principal and his endless powerpoint the content of which I can't recall except to know it's a lot of work that no one wants to do and I volunteered for it and was rejected but I don't really want to work for a coyote who snarls and spits blood and tells me to smile and be warm.

But it was frightening, yes, more frightening to me than the pictures of viscious wild animals, because they are only animals, and just trying to survive.  
But I, the beast in me, the bloodthirsty anger and desire to destroy in fantasy was so
terribly and sensuously satisfying.
Meghan O'Neill May 2014
Health teacher
blindly reading off the slides
of a powerpoint.
"Don't Have *** Kids!"
"Pregnancy"
"STD's"
"Abstinence"
Perhaps if they took a break
from the negativity.
Perhaps if they stood back
and realized that
gasp
preaching abstinence isn't the solution.
The only reason for the
"Pregnancy"
"STD's"
is that they don't teach us
how to practice *** safely.
They make no mention of
Condoms
Diaphragms
Pills
They tell you over and over again
that if you have ***
there will be children
there will be ***
there will be ******.
They make no mention of anything
other than the cis straight white vanilla ***
they leave the *******
off of all the diagrams of vaginas
out of fear that maybe a woman could
gasp
******!
Preposterous!
They preach victim blaming.
They tell the girls
to stay sober
to never put your drink down
long pants
turtlenecks
Instead of teaching the boys
to keep their erections in their pants.
to treat women like humans
that no means no
she is not an object
she did not "deserve it"
she didn't owe you anything.
Ignorance isn't bliss
and Abstinence isn't safety.
Simpleton Sep 2014
There is this torture chamber 
They were obliged to go to 
Every 
Single 
Day
Where sitting upright was imperative 
Talked at for hours on end 
Brain washed and conditioned 
Moulded to form 
And told which way to think 
It's death by PowerPoint 
Overload of irrelevant 'information'
Dead old white guys that are not up to date 
But it's all important 
As part of the punishment
Movement is restricted
To just shut up and be spoon fed
Learning is a product not a process
Is it any wonder they choose to delete history rather than make it
James Hodge Feb 2013
There is a truth universally acknowledged,
that the night brings out the truth in people.
You let your guard down,
You become yourself,
Letting your true self shine.
Lunatics and solarnauts.
Vampires and werewolves.
Do you dare let yourself out and be victim of the lurkers
And sonderers of the night?
Shelby LoAnn Dec 2012
A poem a day takes the pain away.
"It could always be worse"
That's what they all would say.

If it could always be worse,
Then why don't your words make it better?
Don't diminish what I'm feeling,
Simply bc someone's circumstances were harder.

A town was destroyed,
Lives stripped away.
My family and home still in tact,
But I too felt the wrath of that 22nd May.

The ****** and the bruised,
Don't forget the whaling sirens,
Continually speeding by for the first 48 hours.

Anything to help,
Water to the families
Prayers for the refugees.

Thank goodness it wasn't destroyed,
That football field.
What else would have sufficed?
To house the bodies,
In number, nearly 165.

Prayer and tears cannot rectify,
The pain and the hurt evident in mine eye.

Grasp hold of
The friends you were able to get ahold of.

Proud of this town I call home,
Banded together.
But my school, a whole other story on it's own,

I lived, breathed, what was just a building.
My faith in a structure,
Security and normality soon ripped from feelings.

The boxcar children?
The boxed mall children.
Diploma in a shopping bag,
Earned through PowerPoint presentations and 9GAG.

Thank goodness for glassed in boxes,
How else would I have been able to think?
Those tanks have awesome acoustics,
And hey couples can use them for **** tricks.

Build a fort of cardboard,
Film a music video that'll win zero awards!

Throw ping pong ***** over the walls,
Practice ACT while you hear the drama kids doing bird calls.

Can't use photoshop?
There's a class for that.
"Teacher" can't help with trig?
Here's an F for that.

Grief counselors available 24/7.
Doors are also always open,
So go get some lunch at the 7/11.

Took advantage of naïveté,
Skipped school to deal with that 22nd May.

But hey! Prom was still awesome,
And the seniors got scholarships,
So it's alright that my gpa was messed with.
Heck, I was a junior, easily forgotten.

Off to bigger, better things!
Forget the past,
Endure the change.

Hello MSSU or Crowder.
Community college "fo dayz"

This is how we deal with windstorms, in the little old land of Jomo.
The town banded together, but school....
It's more broken than ever.

They turn ya loose and you'll move on,
Cuz for a few years ya had a laptop,
And hey that's enough to build your future upon!
I guess you could say I was left slightly bitter and disturbed.
Katie Miller May 2019
Clumsy Love

It was clumsy the day they first met

A hot day in New York City, photography at a baseball game, purple hair, and overpriced lemonade. There was a 15 year-old girl and her friend, and there was a slight fangirl moment when meeting a 17 year old boy who was famous school-wide for his singing and acting. There was an exchange of names, a photograph, and a friendship.

It was clumsy the second day, too.

Persistently bought coffee from the little round shop with way too many sugar packets, a misguided museum employee, too much root beer, and pigeons that were startled by the boy yelling “44!”

The third day was no less clumsy.

There was a broadway show in Shubert Alley, an unknown desire, and a sleepless night for the boy, though the girl remained ignorant of his new-found crush. If only the girl knew that a year from now, a promposal would be reenacted, a first kiss would be given and taken, and “I love you” would be said. If only the boy knew that his “immature” desire would be replaced with love, and passion, and, well, her. If only they knew what would happen in the next 365 days.

It was clumsy that one night in the pool.

A sticky, humid heat in the air, string lights hung over head, four friends swimming in the girls pool, stars in the sky, and the boy, throwing the girl into the pool simply because he could. The girl loved him then, though she wouldn’t allow herself to think about it, so they remained as they were: friends.

It was clumsy that day in Hershey Park.

There were sharp turn on the Wild Mouse, a stranger met and then lost again, and the boy, who kept telling the girl of other boys who were staring at her. Maybe it was his secret way of telling her that he thinks she’s beautiful, but she never knew.

It was clumsy in the movie theater.

There was crab rangoon and smuggled sushi, an 11:00 movie about superheroes, and a returned wish to hold a girl’s hand, though the girl, somehow, remained oblivious still.

It was clumsy in September and November.

There was a girl with a broken heart, betrayal from the friends from New York, a different boy who was never meant to be, and the boy who was meant to be, listening to every word, watching every tear, and slowly, unknowingly, fixing her heart. Through three hourlong video calls, text messages, and abandoned lunch periods he loved her still, though he remained the friend that he knew she needed.

It was clumsy in December.

There was a realization of how much he meant to her, a lot of poems, a revelation of jealousy of the girl who was flirting with him, and a lot of tears. There was a still 15 year old girl and a now 18 year old boy, and she allowed herself to fall, in the clumsiest way possible, into him.

If was clumsy on Valentine's day.

There was a singing Valentine, as well as one with a bad pun, there was a comparison to a sister, there was a"Crazy Little Thing Called Love" and there was a hug. A question was asked that day "Does he like her?", But was disregarded with a shrug "He said she was like a sister, so I guess not". It stung her her heart just a little, but she accepted the hit that was unintentionally given. And clumsily, once again, she laughed and smiled, after all, he and to her.

If was clumsy at the cabaret Cafe.

There was some pie and ice cream, a song sung to her, though she only wished he meant it that way, a slippery cafeteria for and tights, a confession, and two questions. The confession being to him, that she was happy to know him, a question to her, does she like him, to which she lied "no", and when the question was returned, the boy avoided an answer when the girl returned a question.

It was clumsy the Monday afterwards.

It was clumsy when he wouldn't meet her eyes. She still can't explain how much that hurt her, it stabbed at her heart and caught in her throat. After all: her best friend didn't even want to look at her. Her heart was slippery and clumsy as it sunk towards her stomach. There were tears during first period, and a text after school from the girl who apologized for lying because she liked him after all, and was too afraid of rejection to tell him before, yet no confirmation came from him.

It was clumsy on March 3rd.

There were poems, missing heart beats, and grammar mistakes. There was relief and there was fear. There was nervousness for the next day, knees shaking, heart racing as she turned every corner, waiting to see his face.

It was clumsy on March 16th.

When she fell to the ground. There are six pink roses, a stuffed turtle named Cleopatra, and a PowerPoint slide with a pun. There was an expectation he had wished to live up to and there was success. She fell to the ground and feel into his arms and they both cried of happiness and shock.

It was clumsy on March 18th.

There were silent cellos, empty risers, a dark room and racing heartbeats. There were seven kisses before saying goodbye, they were her first. There were two definitions of perfect, coincidentally, there were also two names. There was a broken water bottle and a boy in a parking lot. There was a girl, now sixteen, and a boy, now eighteen, and they were talking in love in the dark.

It was clumsy on April 3rd.

There was a stairwell, a thought, a confession, and an "I love you" returned in the same breath of air held between them.

It was clumsy in the hammock.

There was an unbalanced swaying, a list of questions and answers, and a metaphor about falling.

It was clumsy at lunch.

There was an attempted hug, an accidental tackle, and a girl who tripped over her own feet.

It was clumsy yesterday, it is clumsy today, and it will be clumsy tomorrow.

There was New York City, coffee, Broadway in Shubert Alley, root beer, Hershey Park and movie theaters. There was a broken heart, video calls, realizations, poems, songs, and apple pie with ice cream. There were grammar mistakes, pink roses, turtles, teddy bears, silent cellos, risers, absent heartbeats, and stairwells. There was love unreturned from fear of rejection born from the roots of doubt. And then, there was love, and memories, and secrets. And they became them, and "us" was their new favorite word.
Christos Rigakos Apr 2012
oh hey, what's up? I'm your next interview!
What's that? Oh yeah! These are my favorite jeans,
you know the ones so comfortable, they're you,
so ripped and faded, comfort seam to seam?

No way. No wearing suits, that's not my style.
My hair? I like the messy look, why ask?
My favorite show starts in a little while.
Could we get on with this, speed up the task?

Your company? I haven't heard a thing.
Don't you guys sell, like, thrifty shoes and socks,
and bells? Oh, closing bell! The one they ring,
the floor, you're trading with the Payless Stocks!

Yeah, no. I don't know anything 'bout that.
I'm anti-corporation anyway.
But hey, you want to see my brand new tat?
I show it off at every gig we play.

I don't know spreadhseets, Word or Powerpoint,
but my new iPad's got those Angry Birds,
and I can show you how to roll a joint.
Hey, where's the bathroom? Got to drop some turds!

Aw, ****! It's out of order, you should know.
Oh sorry dude, that silent smell's a ****.
I think I'll get a mohawk, let it grow.
I'm hungry, are we done, when do I start?

This Monday? Are you kidding? Yo! High five!
Oh, wait, I'm going fishing with my girl.
How 'bout next week, whenever I arrive?
I'll celebrate my new job till I hurl!

I'm glad you like my honesty, that's fair,
to give more guys like me an equal chance.
My laid back mind's a breath of fresh new air.
and honesty's a virtue at a glance.

When I come in I'll do the best I can,
with all the missing knowledge in my head,
the many skills I'm lacking in my hand,
and all the bad production you all dread.

I'll see you when I see you Mister Boss,
I never asked your name, who gives a ****.
There's something on your lip, is that lip gloss?
Oh, wait, you're not a dude? Oh, sorry ma'am!

(C)2012, Christos Rigakos
I adopted the metaphor, "Interview Honesty," and decided to post it here as well.
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Ekaterina Oct 2015
Yesterday I fell asleep in class
There was a soft humming
Coming from the heater
A girl was chewing gum
And the professor kept talking
And clicking on the PowerPoint

I dreamt of Greenland
How funny was it
That the Vikings fibbed
But if they were here today
It wouldn't matter

I dreamt of my feet
Walking on rusted earth
Warm and arid
Comforting and challenging
Leaving silt on my soles
As the sun beat down
Bleaching my hair


I dreamt of bazaars and crowds within them
Bartering, staring, leaning
Turmeric coloring hands
Cinnamon choking the streets
Fathers teaching their sons
How to run the business

I dreamt of cold fogs
In San Francisco
Sticking under my eyes
And under my clothes
Towering green
On top of steep cliffs
Still yet ready to evolve
Reminders of my hometown
Of loud sirens and higher ground
Prayers for the parking break

I dreamt of snowfall in the city
In the dank steam rising
From the manholes and the sewers
The palms all frozen and weeping
The sea softly still
The beach deserted
The crowds piled into cafes
Rubbing their hands
Fiddling with Chapstick

I dreamt of the broken White House fences
Of small eyes turned downward
Of everyone screaming
Of my conscience ringing
A bell
It was too late for us from the beginning

I awoke
The professor kept clicking
The girl had spit out her gum
John Bartholomew Oct 2018
Discovered immediately
No
Nothing is
Time is the conundrum that unravels certain things
350 million years and then, ta da!
The steam engine
Yeah, that took time
OK, so there was nobody about for a while
Maybe God isn't as clever as he thinks
Dinosaurs
Mass global deconstruction in its weather conditions
Ice-Age
Demolition on Planet Earth
Lets start again
Humans
They'll be fun!
Throw some religion into the mix
Oh, and jealousy, a good story needs some jealousy
And blood
And weapons
Where is this ship heading
Phase 3?
Could well be on the horizon soon
God needs to whistle to a different tune
Maybe were just a chapter in an all beings stupid little book
Whats next
Lets a have a peek, come on, just a little look

JJB
“The only way you're going to reach places you've never gone is if you trust God's direction to do things you've never done.” ― Germany Kent

“Sometimes it seems safer to have just enough God to get to heaven, but not so much that he radically alters our lives.” ― Chris Hodges

“At any point God can change his plans for your life when he decides your life purpose needs to be protected.” ― Shannon L. Alder

“Everything that is online is not necessarily in line.” ― Johnnie Dent Jr.
Lawrence Hall Apr 2017
A Meeting in the Parish Hall

To the arrhythmia of mostly futile clicks on a hand-held gadget

No food or drinks in game room can someone
Please get the lights no not there over there
PowerPointlessness uh-oh can someone
Please get the lights okay I’ve got it now

Uh-oh oh wait these slides are all mixed up
Can someone get the lights again okay
I’ve got the sound now hospitality
Ministers what does “Eucharist” mean

Foam-cup coffee penitential folding chairs
No cell phones please dear God why am I here
Zulu Samperfas Jun 2013
and sore and explode
and heavy load
and I make it into a powerpoint
and I look at a zillion lol cats
and how to make a perfect flip turn
and Michael Phelps perfect stroke and whale length body
and sweat seeps into the couch
and it is still not done
my work is not done
Shawn Jul 2012
days of creativity
have now been consumed,
by shuffling papers,
endless derivations,
analysis,
unneeded

(next slide)

days of creativity
have now been destroyed,
by chemical formulas,
molecular models,
electron,
repulsion

(next slide)

days of creativity
have now been recreated,
by a smile,
that puts the brightest
powerpoint projector
to shame...

(next slide)

days of creativity
have now been put together
by eyes that create an escape
from dull lecture,
(no longer lost,
in algorithm.)

(next slide)

so indescribable,
that presentations,
need not continue,
laser pointers put away,
lights off,
books closed.
I was an 18 year old in love, what can I say?
Alexis Cook Aug 2012
Latte. Overpriced, over heated.
One man. PowerPoint and chemicals.
Two girls. Hugs and squeals. “this girl lives here” hands to chest. “is he your boyfriend?”
One couple. One table. Pressed so close, what’s the point of the table? Touching at knees and elbows as if that will have to do until their whole bodies press again.
Eye twitch, depressing news of the times, scalded tongue. Music in my ear. Too loud? Not loud enough to drown you out. Too loud to read tiny words.
Rainstorm. Now we meet again.
Madeysin Jun 2015
Addition & subtraction, smoke blunts with God. Get satisfaction, I write poems about hating myself. Yet I don't change. And no matter how many times a day I hate summer, the climate stays the same. When all I would have to do...is move. Pack up my things go.
PowerPoint of the sixth day of creation. When God wept for the nations, I sat back & smiled. The realization of miss communication. We don't have to stay here, when you can just **** yourself. Mix my ashes with the pages of old bibles, trace the ruins of old fathers. That claimed they love their daughters but turned away too soon. Father's Day is coming up, pops I bought you a balloon. Filled with my thoughts. I pop it every single night. I mean it's only been 9 years since the last time that I saw you. Spoke to you. Pleas I'll smoke with you, roll up my sleeve and get cracked with you. Please just look at me, the way dads are suppse to. He cracked my jaw today, I'll write about the pain when I remember how to describe it. I thought it was emotional abuse, and then I found the bruises on my body. Come to find out I've been lying to myself, what a hobby.
Lawrence Hall Feb 2017
Paleo-Yuppies at Work and Play

Fading slowly from the existential struggle,
Waving their MePhones about in protest,
They swarm to Starbuck’s for adjective coffees,
Uniformed in knee-pants and bulbous sneaks
And Chinese soccer tops with little checkmarks,
Their graduate degrees at parade rest,
And in confusion, suddenly-stalled careers
Raging against the thirty-something machine.
Not trusting anyone under forty,
They rustle their foam cups and resumes’
Instead of suspicious Democrats,
And demand promotions and Perrier.
They mourn pinstripes and leather briefcases,
And the old floppy disc of yesteryear,
And fumble their PowerPoint Presentations
Tho’ once they illuminated the world
With colored markers on glossy whiteboard.
They no longer play games on a Commodore
Or rock to neo-Carib fusion jazz;
Their Rush is Right baseball caps are now filed
In trays of antique curiosities
Beside the moldering hippie stuff shelved
In an adjunct of the Smithsonian
Where curricula vitae go to be eaten
By a computer virus named Vlad.
Now, as the sun sets on Ferris Bueller’s day
They count and verify their MeBook friends -
They did not change the world, not at all, but
The world changed anyway, and without them,
And in the end they love neither Jesus
Nor The Force; like Eve, they bow to an Apple.
Hank Roberts Apr 2013
We thought to stand up
after awhile but we
are on our way
back to all fours, if we
keep looking down at our phones.
we'll just be morons with fewer
neurons but enough robots to run the
world household and force ourselves
out of business, I'm not marching
for Robotic rights, or getting a
computer chip to turn my memories or
the songs in my head into
.doc and mp3's or have
Powerpoint files of parental
divorce and alimony court.
rey Mar 2015
there's no powerpoint presentation or a pocket guide nor a three inch-thick hardcover book for falling in love.
there's no rain with more oxygen than hydrogen that keeps the fire alive.
there will never be an elder who fully understands the oh-and-ah's of your young naivety.
there will be painful memories attached to your most loved songs.

this is life. you'll fall, get up, fall again, fail to get up. the lights will go out. you will get lost. you will feel the pain of being left.
this is the time when you pack up your tears and painkillers.
you will be you.
because that is life,
and this is love.
Wk kortas Jan 2017
He will allow, if you press him on the point,
That it can be a hard go sometimes;
Holsteins have no concept of weekends, he will say,
Or Christmas, for that matter,
But all that being said
With a smile practically gushing contentment.
He has, for thirty-plus years now,
Worked some four hundred head, dairy and beef
In this cold, flat valley where low-pressure systems come to die,
Bringing the detritus of low clouds and snow flurries in tow,
Sometimes even into the middle of May.  
He is not unaware the outlook for his homestead is hazy, at best;
He has consciously blocked out how much he is into the bank
For feed, the re-built corn silos, the new Case tractor,
And both of his sons have long since fled south,
Preferring the comfort of powerpoint presentations and cubicles
To a cold, dark milking house in the middle of January,
But he has seen the future come and go,
Dwelling in the misbegotten debris of the recent past:
Huge, slightly Fifties-space-movie-flying-saucer satellite dishes
Pointing forlornly directly at the horizon
Outside shuttered and foreclosed upon houses
Which litter any number of the back roads,
The yellowing signs promoting cheap internet access
Taped to windows in small, half-empty strip malls in Gouvernuer,
All cause enough for him to opine at virtually every opportunity
I have seen the future, and I can confirm
That it clearly ain’t what it used to be.


He could have, if he had of a mind to do so, gone in another direction;
Unlike most of the farm kids,
Who were packaged as a unit into the General Ed track,
He’d tested himself into the College Prep classes,
Where several of his teachers made it a point to tell him
Virgil, you need to understand that you’re a bright kid.  
You can do other things, go other places
,
And one or two of his instructors were downright offended
That he chose to take over the farm immediately upon graduation,
But he knew at an early age—no, had always known
That he would remain in this place, on this patch of land,
Even though he could not even begin to explain
The whys and wherefores of his decision,
Language being the ungainly
And wholly inadequate instrument that it is
(This is why, he would say every Sunday morning
At breakfast with Gerald Glass and Earl Tiefenauer,
The both of them rolling their eyes in tandem,
Knowing exactly what came next,
The Akwesasnes went hundreds of years without a written language;
They were smart enough to know that all words do
Is just get in the **** way
)
But he knew that what was in the gentle, serene chugging,
The rhythmic pop of the ancient machinery
At the  Karsten place over on the Heuvelton Road
Flinging another squared-off hay bale into his jerry-built wagon,
Or in the blue sky which stretched, impossibly cloudless and glorious,
From the St. Lawrence up north down to Fort Drum
And onward for several forevers either way besides,
Was greater and weightier than anything in the cloth-bound red Bibles
Which sat in the pews at the Presbyterian church in Madrid
(Not his father’s church, but the blustering, cocksure Baptists,
Sure as death itself as to the absolute inambiguity of the Word
Were simply not his kind of people)
Which he had begun attending some half-dozen years ago,
Not because he was a particularly spiritual man by any means;
He had simply been unable to sufficiently convince himself
That all of this could happen strictly by accident.
John Bartholomew Jan 2019
Ahem (in your own head)
...........
"AHEM"
Scan your crowd, over the top of your glasses if possible
Tough?
Could be
Depends on who read the resume
On who knows what
On who knows who
On who knows you
This could be a breeze depending whats on offer
Are they here for your wit or for the real thing
This long winded corporate speech, I'm not here to sing
They look like they are tetchy
Some even nonplussed as this is anything but fetching
How to wow a crowd in 5 minutes without sounding preachy
Revert to Powerpoint as a distraction technique
I'm trying to give myself here at the height of my peak
To anyone of any faith, Christian, Muslim or Sikh
The whole point of me being here is to sell my goods to the crowd
I'm here to teach as my product is at its best
You've seen the others all fallen from the same nest
Now look at mine with that extra bit of wow, pizzazz and zest
So this is the part that come Au Natural and you cannot teach
I need the people in front of me in awe and at my feet as this is,

How to Write a Speech....

"Hello....."

JJB
A man who wants to lead the orchestra must turn his back on the crowd. – Max Lucado

Build something 100 people love, not something 1 million people kind of like. – Brian Chesky

Try not to become a man of success, but rather try to become a man of value.  – Albert Einstein

The successful warrior is the average man, with laser-like focus.  – Bruce Lee
ConnectHook Apr 2017
☺☻☺

This objective will not be accomplished
through a series of planned action-steps.
This outcome will not be a result
of selectively modifying best practices.
Results-based analysis will not help you.
This objective cannot be achieved
through collaboration with peers
or self-reflecting on past strategies.
There will be no PowerPoint, Prezi, or any other slide show
to unpack this metric.
The new paradigm is an old dead joke.
Outcomes are irrelevant to this objective.
This objective laughs at you
as it explodes in your data-driven bureaucratic face.
Go to hell and take this benchmark with you,
you piece of administrative irrelevance.
There are no more attainable objectives.
SEEK GOD and LIVE.
NaPoWriMo # 6

PROMPT? What prompt...

https://connecthook.wordpress.com/
Sidney Nov 2014
Sitting in a meeting; the powerpoint clicking to yet another slide.
Tears well up. Breathing rate increases.  "Oh God, not here, not now".
Memories pour into your mind like a tidal wave.  
This tidal wave feels like it's going to crash out of your tear ducts.
In a singluar motion, you slip out of your chair and head to the door.
Trying not to be noticed by anyone, everyone notices you leave the room.
You make a b-line to the restroom. "Oh God, please let it be empty".  It is.
As soon as you reach the empty stall, the tears start to fall.
And then comes the sobs, the relentless, heavy, gasping sobs.
Tears and snot stream down your face.  You are worried that you will run out
of toilet paper.  

All you can do is what you have to do: weep.

You weep for all the loss you had and are still grieving in your life.
You weep because you can't take anything back.
You weep because all you ever wished was to be good, to be perfect, to be loved.

After a good 20 minutes you regain your full consciousness.  You look in the bathroom mirror.
After some good rearrangements of glasses, you stir up the last bit of tears and try to squeeze out as much sadness as you can to "get over it".
Finally, you clean up and head back into the meeting.

You are well aware that everyone will be wondering what took you so long.
You put on your armor and march to your seat.  No one looks up.  In reality, noone even noticed you were gone.  There is no pause in the disucssion.

Done.  Next slide, please?
Lawrence Hall Dec 2016
Paleo-Yuppies at Work and Play

Fading slowly from the existential struggle,
Waving their MePhones about in protest,
They swarm to Starbuck’s for adjective coffees,
Uniformed in knee-pants and bulbous sneaks
And Chinese soccer tops with little checkmarks,
Their graduate degrees at parade rest,
And in confusion, suddenly-stalled careers
Raging against the thirty-something machine.
Not trusting anyone under forty,
They rustle their foam cups and resumes’
Instead of suspicious Democrats,
And demand promotions and Perrier.
They mourn pinstripes and leather briefcases,
And the old floppy disc of yesteryear,
And fumble their PowerPoint Presentations
Tho’ once they illuminated the world
With colored markers on glossy whiteboard.
They no longer play games on a Commodore
Or rock to neo-Carib fusion jazz;
Their Rush is Right baseball caps are now filed
In trays of antique curiosities
Beside the moldering hippie stuff shelved
In an adjunct of the Smithsonian
Where curricula vitae go to be eaten
By a computer virus named Vlad.
Now, as the sun sets on Ferris Bueller’s day
They count and verify their MeBook friends -
They did not change the world, not at all, but
The world changed anyway, and without them,
And in the end they love neither Jesus
Nor The Force; like Eve, they bow to an Apple.
Michael Kusi Jan 2018
Armor can’t serve much purpose
If it is broken.
I’m not talking about taking the scattered pieces
And pushing together the broken to make armor.
That is just making the weak, strong.
Or about when armor is pierced in  battle.
The heat of hand-to hand combat
Such armor belongs in a museum
Or in a history lecture with Powerpoint slides.
Because from this armor
You can tell the type of weaponry that transgressed against me.
But If I keep carrying that armor.
The broken pieces cut deep into my tissue
It does not fit the shoulders right.
It makes noises that announce to the world I am coming.
And it provides an opening for someone to stab inside.
They don’t respect this opening
They affix iniquity to injury.
Because Armor can’t serve much purpose
If it is broken
Except as a burial garment.
Genesee Mar 2018
The angry fire that is within me
I'm trying to quieten it down
But it's no use
I knew I was hurting when music couldn't ease my pain today
And it felt surreal almost like the clouds kept looming over my head
It felt like I was dragging myself along
I promise I was paying attention if the teacher asks around wondering if I was paying attention
But at the same time not a day before we had a powerpoint
going into a little bit of detail about the signs of depression and the symptoms of mental disorders as well as emotional
When it got to one slide
All I could think was you don't have to go on and on about the signs of one thing
Trust me my life experiences can vouch for me
I know more about this subject than I ever wanted to know in the first place  
All I could think was I'm drained and tired emotionally from this
I needed a distraction so I settled for drawing
When in reality I thought I know heartbreak all too well
sure enough, I didn't show the signs of sadness when it was spoken out loud the signs
My friends know the truth
Teachers don't
As if I'm going to open up to one of them and tell them a sob story of how I am heartbroken  once again
I know they are there to comfort other people in times of need
Hurting etc.
But I rather let no one know about my heartbreak
except for my inner circle and that's it
Ken Pepiton Feb 2022
Delta dark desert sound
-tic swa gwa

Dismal swamp,
Slew of despond, splash

Hence, come, foul self, stinky-kenny,
ah
yes, time chance,
net-neti, meta all o'that mental ascent
to step away

think the whole dammed thing that has been
undammed, some time ago, at least half
a revelation measure, past the half
hour of silence.

Prep-work. What good can-
versus what good am-            

I, quests in op
portunate position, we

suppose, ah, sudden we, who
knew?
A laugh, once shared,
numb
ness, lifts an edge from the deck,
ness, edge ness in essence of pearling
the action
growing as knowing, sudden-- su su per

personal ize, I am, as a thought,
I am, meta-cognosis, you know
what I mean,

400 words made the cat in the hat,
who lives in your head,
where who philosophy is widely read.

These whos lack electricity,
so their reality depends on mutual re
alization, realizing personal worth
if good is all we need at the moment,
we have
plenty, plenty terror and greed, and rotten
hearts full of treasured straw, for bricks,
some day,
all our idle words accounted for

waking new, all the straw spun to gold,
thread about as wide
as a spider's kite,
sliding light.

Did I not? I remind me,
learn that in a mind, we
find numbed from before, knowing,

knowing, too soon, too late, boomers, all, did.

Don't we think we read the same **** & Jane,
oh, yeah, glory days,
the ways we were so-- numbed
by the music, yeah, more than drugs

from then to now, 2022, a blur, too fast
to matter, but for the wind, twist to last

chance, drink or prime the pump,
well, improving, our arrangement, give me
to drink,
and lo'
you, know the other had eyes, he saw as we
see, you knew, instant- life is living.
The act we all do, redundanced, on flat earth,
the xy axis of ordered arrangement of tools,
a place for everything, and every thing
in its place, we breathe,
and have our being in the life zone known,
so far,
so good,

the day is half done… numbness, funny unmissed
appointment, values are about to be dis
cussed, as causes accused of war crime, or plain
lying about duty to children,
lying about worth to children,
lying about ever after to children reared as tools,
servants to God's servant,
who relies on us, the poet's, primarily -

who read the runes, and ken certain tones,
attached to the tips of all tongues pfft pfft
phugedaboudit, whack
what were we thinking,

This is 2022, 12:27, I have been AI reminded,
faithful follower of instruction, immune to praise,
worth the effort forced on an old man, after
ever had well begun, a glory run, down
the backroads, with double yellow lines,

a white feather in my cap, they call it macaroni
poetry, it speaks in tongues of angels,

messages, sagacity fluidly puddling in wu-wow
same same see, somethings we
see same
some not same re
alizing, more or less, I am alone, I am talking
to my self,
anticipating your reading, as then unclaimed,
your reading your writing is our effort to fully function,

Branching, crystaline, flux in the frontal formation.
edging into knowing your, wondering

who can say what we think we know, better
than the idea used to think of Jesus, comforting
little boy, me.

Comfort is the only point we share,
for sure, we know comfort,
when we feel it, first rush,
under my made from-ol'Levis quilt
on a cold desert night, at the edge

of night, listening, eyes, adjusting,
blue glow, so faint, sobbing, listen, Perry Mason
Bailiff saying, muted through the door to you,
do you
swear to tell the truth,
the whole truth, and, {ah, the pain}
nothing but the truth?

AI ai ai, ritual sacred child, hapt to happen,
about a billion times, one time, split,

half know, half know not.
What is not a factor, words, were
never fit to inquiry, curiosity was missing,
promised apo
- I may, so I say apollo is a multi
- meta mete essence appolo so loco, si

logic assumes too much. You know too little,
ah, we have the app that's apt,

to make you think, strange arrangements seem
familiar, this is a mental labyrinthine design imagined
evocative experientially, a
be coming to being

kinda fruitless, really, without the womb, which was
oversight, civilizations
with goddesses have more womb sense,
than ones with pride conflicted all male propensities,
due to pride bred into the princes,
sorted as in Sparta, on the playing fields from Eton
to the universal concept of Friday Night in High School,

anywhere on earth, its all
the same,
scene, true trope, fit to the story of nextifity, loosely

more of the same, or do do we use the utility we realize,
this is
way cool for a future, from 1965… we were kids,
first TV Top-Forty Movies in color, all the time, from
conception, on Blueberry Hill,
-- the old order,
Frank Capra, Esquire/*******,  modality, mode, set,
films function to reimpress, in like Flint, pokem, say
Jack thinks like Goldfinger,
pointedly
-- we are dedicated mind universal soulds for the data
model American leaders of tomorrow,
shaped to excel. We taught the AI,
how to think like a mortal, go on, think, how go
changed nothing, no meaning to strategy of least
win, lightest weight that sways the worth,
to more than one can manage, alone,
eh… interesting…-
good for goodness sake, kerplunk the crack
leaks acidic madness, laughing

we stop lying, confusion
settles, similar to cream in sap too hot,
oil on water, cold water to a thirsty sould era soul.
… good
due to lack of fore thought, some agree,
after the act functioned and created something
-- jump cut===

First cousins, teach the second cousins
rules at the family reunion,


King, we call this, guy.
Biggest guy, on our side, and he owns the field,
we play on; and he says we need never grow up,
only old; he shall contain all our cares,
as a metaphor, yes after all is, and this guy, this holds it.
-The scepter, big stick, we see, looking close, zoom in

So we can think about it, meta co gnosis
when two or more minds agree to let this mind
seem important to you, import the idea
this mind weighs most worth serving, holding
such slight strands of spider kites, go,
make it self evident, stick to hold,
see
we work
good, he feeds us better, we work bad, he makes us
better.

Ah. Patterning, turtle shell sonic signs in sand,
some thing, we imagine, common aphorism,
turtles, so happy together,
at the core of the pearling algorithm that keeps
us rolling on,
so happy together, no matter

whether thought or thing, I think I love you,
if you know what I mean, said the little blue man,
from the radio,
really I think my entire generation heard some songs
and have images unimaginable prior to the event,
we admit,
there was a deal conceived, code, to open minds,
in time to reconnect

-Doris Day, the Saturday Matinee star,

singing
I love you I love you said the little blue man,
I love you I love you to bits.
I love you I love you said the little blue man
And scared me right out of my wits

From <https://www.lyricsmode.com/lyrics/d/dorisday/blueman.html#!>

We get that a lot. Said the imp.
You lost the aim, eh, happy, right,

I had a friend named Happy, he is dead, in a way that hurts
to know. So,
it could be, I don't say may be, in this state, that can incur
unintended consequences and this is tendentious enough
already,

we calling out the holy orders,
serious as what,
serious as serious is, sin qua non say, the only thing
that matters,

worst case, trolly dealy-bob scenario, test cases attest to,
what do normal people do,
what do people believing this or that lie, do?

What did you do? You read this line. Thank you. Made the diff…

-Group Therapy, Secure

We have not been taught well, but to obey

G'wan, talk nice, to people who don't read,
say, hey, d'jyewever re'ken, we was lost,
in books,
we never read, but tested as if we did?

so much so
no mind can find the bag,
with all our first valued things, sort of jumbled
in the bag with unsorted curiosities,

things we were told to read,
for our own good, but we did not read,

I can imagine, the feeling,
a visitation, actual factual feeling of thinking
I hear a voice, a word, I think
I hear a word, no vision, revisionist powerpoint,
read this, flaming finger pointing
says the witness of record,

later,
maybe I saw a bright light reminding me,
read, but I did not, I could not
can you imagine, I could have,
whose the shame,
- cover head to toe, oh, right, yeah
- secret only the holiest discern
- you shall know them by what
- shames a man to think
- you shall neve know…

my wife, could read,
she could have caused me to desire reading,
to obey the angel, nay

the story, as I was told, I'm telling you,
that guy never learned to read, instead,

some wealthy merchant, dealer in knacks and spice,
fine temple linens, and comforting silks and satins,
prolepsistically provided a ready writer, a scribe

blessed is usually the name history gives this scribe,
baruch or some sound meaning receiver.

Raw hear the muttering prophet, and say, write
this is what truth says truth is if nothing else is.

Ok… 2022

A word, lawyer calls you aside to ask if you know
your judgements have begun,

-you had not thought this your judgement,
then you read another line and feel you wonder
why?

We think, we think the same actual idea, that a
voltairian autoexamined lexicon might,
- ai-ght,
given the tech,
these tools, plus absolute negation of any previous,
assumed and acted on asif,
nullifity on costs, forgive us our, click
FTA take it,
run, as in keep the pace, run
Graeber plug Debt: The First 5000 Years
make it
plain claim
to any debt defined for you, make plain
divine rights due to worshippers, whose worth is
the air they breathe,

in which we live, and have our being.

Enjoying using use, where once we
utilized, life, as if unrealization is
as
real we inadvertently realized.
Right use ness.
Sweet, suasion is always sweet, per or pro, happy
is a fine word
to take the spiritual edge off blessed.
Sigh.

Wonderworks is working wonder in me,
another plug for Anghus Fletcher ? is it
The Power of Invention

I say, worth the attention,
it costs to listen, and recall asking what
does that mean,
-VA reminder login- live ding

value, the group is meeting to speak of values,
these are broken veterans,
I am in their group, a little, by design, I asked
to be included,

edged my way in, to wonder, why these guys,
are angry,
and thirsty, as am I, we recall prime the pump
or slake the thirst to say, hey,

do you read, at all? Any signal from the noise
saying
define, sift and sieve, sort your terminal points,

what hold has value, for all of us, in your reality?

Within the system, this is mortal awareness
acknowledgment, same as existentialism was
imagined to be in in Sixties univers-ifity, post 65,

we were barely alive, GDIs, then Ken went to
Vietnam, same day as Pooso Perez,

Pyro went, too, he came back the same.

Ifery was, is a class of phrases, which when
wished as a child might, were

as near as real as any ae ea ai ia utterance we
gulp- yodleee, shamballaballa shaka
zulu'd, to quote Creflo,
ahem,ake it so
cough to clear the back of my throat,
-then I yawn
and that does it, soothes the crick
with sounds t d b vck rr ff llll mmmmnnn o o o
you knew you knew,
the book
spells it out,
secret meanings mean nothing to unknowers,
stretch it
so it is, we know, what the records show, the open
records of the water and the rocks,

witness
the wind returning
on circuits, set to melt
the ice, gradually, this time,
a degree above solidity, just edging sublimity,

liminal laminal lick, a measure, tip
of your aimer, to tip
of your thumb,

ha, the thumb that bends, always wins,
look it up, always, by an inch.

Rule of thumbs, my kind are good to breed into,
good, to feel friend-ish,
as friends are fewer than brothers,
and fewer still shall survive the confusion,

inevitable, when a dam breaks, the valley
does flood,

ah, see. from Sedona, look north, once,
that was all mud, ****** dry by winds
that carved the navel of the life we
think, real,
from stories told by those who knew

something bad could always happen,
when the world encountered a rock
that said, all that can be shaken,

shakes, no look out, just
blame-oh-shame- boom

what now?
Numb again, off and on. Think.
Thanks.
Babatunde Raimi Dec 2019
A Poem: Revolution Africa*

All hail the Lion King
King Flair Simasiku
A certified change agent
You seem calm, cool and collected
How did you overcome fear
Dining with the king of the jungle
You even spoke their language
When you say "Roar", they roar
When you say "Walk", they walk

Where is Rafiki?
Did he give you the pass code
How did you surmount the insurmountable
"This is not a small something oh"
Success is not for Lilly hearts
But brave heart like you
They said real shekels lays in their mouth
Can you help demystify this mystery?

Tell me King Simasiku
How did you overcome your fears?
How did you win their hearts?
Was Rafiki instrumental
For he is the mouthpiece of the gods
He is the most popular Monkey on earth
Plesse say a word for us

Tell us King of the Jungle
How can we posses a Lion heart
When our leaders coveted the Lion share
They **** our national assets with impunity
Tell me King Simasiku
How do we blaze the trail
Just like you did
The whole world will hear your name
Be kind, take us to your Kingdom
Far away in Namibia
From you, we seek true knowledge

You inspire us King Simasiku
We are a people suffering and smiling
But if you teach us your ways
That we might be bold as a Lion
Then we can face our fears
And make 2020 count
Just like the Eagle Fola
She already raised the bar
And you, you killed it with this exposure

Brace up for impact
This is no PowerPoint
This is no Photoshop
Not even paint or corel draw
This is reality, get close at your peril
The morale behind this
Face your fears or die trying
Even if you perish
The world will remember you
Do it not for yourself
But for your Simba
That they may enjoy tomorrow

There are Scars lurking around
But we will always run to Rafiki
The just and Only Wise One
We refuse to be manipulated
And flee to return like Simba
We will fight for the glory of Africa
And chase every Mufasa out
Wake up Africa!
The hour to liberate her has come
Just say the word my King
And we will follow
Revolution Africa!
Lawrence Hall Dec 2021
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com  
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                            Yeah, and the Bad Haircut Too

       House Panel Subpoenas Author of January 6 PowerPoint

                                          -news item

The times are so terribly out of joint
With cartoons and sounds replacing words
I’d have anyone arrested for a PowerPoint
For the crime of shooting us lots of birds
PowerPoint presentations, like adverbs, are useless.
Lawrence Hall Oct 2017
Paleo-Yuppies at Work and Place

Fading slowly from the existential struggle,
Waving their MePhones about in protest,
They swarm to Starbuck’s for adjective coffees,
Uniformed in knee-pants and bulbous sneaks
And Chinese soccer tops with little checkmarks,
Their graduate degrees at parade rest,
And in confusion, suddenly-stalled careers
Raging against the thirty-something machine.
Not trusting anyone under forty,
They rustle their foam cups and resumes’
Instead of suspicious Democrats,
And demand promotions and Perrier.
They mourn pinstripes and leather briefcases,
And the old floppy disc of yesteryear,
And fumble their PowerPoint Presentations
Tho’ once they illuminated the world
With colored markers on glossy whiteboard.
They no longer play games on a Commodore
Or rock to neo-Carib fusion jazz;
Their Rush is Right baseball caps are now filed
In trays of antique curiosities
Beside the moldering hippie stuff shelved
In an adjunct of the Smithsonian
Where curricula vitae go to be eaten
By a computer virus named Vlad.
Now, as the sun sets on Ferris Bueller’s day,
They count and verify their MeBook friends –

They did not change the world, not at all, but
The world changed anyway, and without them,
And in the end they love neither Jesus
Nor The Force; like Eve, they bow to an Apple.
Of your kindness read this as half of a diptych / dipstick with "Paleo-Hippies at Work and Play."
Thinking of You Jul 2021
It’s a shame you’ll never see these poems like I planned.
It’s a shame the deep love I had for you went to waste.
It’s a shame I never got to present my PowerPoint about how all of my fears and yours didn’t matter if we had each other.

But I hope one day you find someone else who loves you enough to put her feelings in a .pptx file for you.
I hope one day I find someone who loves me enough to want to make one in return.
a PowerPoint presentation

woke me up, as i input the wrong

numbers that produced a chain reaction

of wrong combination; unacceptable

unhappy

across the room, your voice echoed

as you mentioned five-hundred discrepancies

I have yet to fill

five-hundred mistakes

I have yet to correct

unhappy

five-hundred more, I say,

cause you were wrong

five-hundred more mistakes

with four-hundred ninety-nine of them

is me existing,

and one, is for the wrong calculations

splattered across my dusty screen

unhappy

I am rich; but not in the way people perceived

I am rich, but not in the way that people would envy

As I sat here, feigning attention

I saw him; no harness, with hands displayed

as though he was gifted with the ability to fly

but his wings we’re vestigial

cause humans are made to walk; not fly

unhappy

I stared at him, ignoring the mechanical movement

of my hands, ignoring whether I’m corrected by my

muscle memory

I watched him.

Happy.

Dirt poor, with all adorning him was the flicker of light

dimly reflecting throughout, to avoid collision

I want what he had.

happy.

The freedom to fly,

even though flying means death.

happy

The freedom to choose,

to embrace the air,

breathing my last.

happy.

I could just imagine.

for my hands corrected

the mistake that makes me envy

the man with a reflector vest

unhappy.

All i knew is that

the more i press the keys onto the screen

producing what i never wanted,

I’ll always be

unhappy

unlike the man, on the top of the building

at peace, even though,

knowing that one single misstep

can cause him

to cease breathing

at nine point 8 meters

per second.

that to me

is freedom

and I'm

happy.
Damon Beckemeyer Aug 2018
Are you in or out?
The stake is your soul

Play with religion
Holy fire matches
Strike it on whatever surface holds a flame
Cause someone might need to burned at the stake

Save yourself
If it saves you.
I did
And I have one foot off the boat I jumped in
Because if you put it in another
You're going to ride the current in two different directions
Sacrificing reason

So balance on the edge
Or build your own ark

Someone takes the wrong branch in the river
And they'll have a white water of a ride
And a waterfall at the finish line
Didn't know you could drown in fire?

God is a very real thing
Hell is a very real place
But use your own paddle when you row your own race

God never soul-***** anyone
So it's your choice to follow
Truth sets people free
Or it leaves them be

I'm not sure if I'm on the Battleship any more
To go out in a blaze of glory
Or is the boat just sinking?

They run out of lifeboats eventually
And in the end, you may just let go of the raft when there's plenty of room and totally give up any hope, causing one of the greatest irritations in all the world of film.

But you may have angel wings
"Jack, I Feel like I'm flying"
Or you watch as an unsinkable hope
Folds up into the same ocean
That God used to **** all but about six people and a zoo
Giving the rest burials at sea and Watery graves

But wood saves,
A few pairs of animals
Moses' staff
And some clay tablets
And at the end of their story
They're broken down into few pieces
And **** a carpenter
Who at least feed 12,000 people
And brought kegs to the wedding reception
Healing the sick
Teaching love, joy, peace, kindness and faithfulness

Something the whole world needs
But cut those false image bearing hands off the body

Gods image fits on a Sistine Chapel
Because people are afraid of him
Paint a heresy
But don't let the Pope know

I'd like to see the pedophiles get god smacked
Rapists get smit
Something of remote justice

When was slavery ever allowed to exist

Sinners get off easy and...
premaritally

But don't watch ****
Or smoke or drink
Ever
"Thou shalt surely die"

West Boro bombshells
Are gonna make for a pretty hot show
When you know they're going to Hell for what they did
For the Bible tells you so.

Just let the preacher get to that slide in his PowerPoint by next Sunday
See ya then
Pray about it?
God bless
XXOO

Because brotherly kisses were just a cultural thing
And we only like side-hugs

— The End —