"productivity" poems
The desert,
A sea of sand, drought and dry air under a scorching, blazing Sun,
The wind may feel alike a cut, which burns through your senses,
Relentless, the heat takes over by day, yet by night it is cold enough to freeze you if you come unprepared. Such would be a foolish idea,
A dessert of thoughts, driving into my brain, leaving ideas uncovered
Leaving productivity hidden, under the sand of hatred and self doubt
Such places, landscapes, covered by firy silicate or ice are truly lethal,
Such state of mind, covered by uncertainty is truly lethal, for ones wonderful creativity, for art of all kind, conveyed or material, if you might wander through such a land without any guide to help out,
Worry not, for after every drought comes rain, blissful rain to fertilise the soil of thoughts which will blossom in wonderous ways, to shine,
After all, motion without movement cannot be possible so try to move
A wise friend once tought me, that if you give it enough time, even a nigh impossibility becomes a certainty, even a desert could be a forest
But until then, be patient my dear, even the most deserted place, carries some beauty in it, no ?
~ Umi
Apr 26, 2018
Apr 26, 2018 at 6:08 PM UTC
Sleeplessness
Brought to you by sparkling espresso in a can
I have underestimated you yet again, oh humble coffee bean
But back to work
Eight tabs open, going back and forth
It's nothing short of a miracle if any given task is given more than a minute of attention at a time
Muscle spasms, trembling, fascinating
Overwhelming urge to mindlessly flex the muscles I don't have
Fake machissimo brought about by exhauation?
Or the exhileration of having to complete 8 projects in a day
While simultaneously trying to grasp a breaking down of my mind which hasn't happened since...forever
Hmm
These are the prime conditions to breed a taxing marathon of productivity
Or a chain of costly impulsive decisions to perpetuate procrastination.
Signs that someone is going crazy range from ****** to inability to stick to a single topic to excessive use of run on sentences
"How meta, acknowledging your insanity deconstructs the very notion of it if you normalize it within yourself and just look as everyone else as crazy! Ha.ha."
That made no sense, i don't think.
I like using big words to make myself sound smart you can make anyone believe anything if you use big words also it scares those
Hippopotomonstroesquipedaliophobixlcs
Grumble grumble
Good night/morning/whatever
Feb 21, 2013
Feb 21, 2013 at 11:55 PM UTC
Willingly submissive to my lacking productivity,
I stir around those little thoughts aimlessly.
That cat will finally look into a day in the life
and grant me some amnesty.
Aug 27, 2012
Aug 27, 2012 at 6:43 PM UTC
I think perhaps as a writer, we seek the adventure, the unknown, the destructive, not only to know we are alive but to know what it is to live. We live fast, we love without restraint, with impulsive desire. Are we the tortured, the wounded, the broken, abused. We have lived a thousand lives, loved a million times. We dream, we idealise, we fall in love unintentionally, we make mistakes, we endure deep suffering and we fall to the hands of lust within a heartbeat. We choose to show our ******* our ***** our hearts or our souls. We refuse to sell our mind, to which we must always remain held to. Our body is a vessel, one of productivity made victim to abuse. It's such neglect, despair, that leaves us enveloped in patterns of trauma and deeply embedded psyache. Once touched, our bodies remember as an elephants mind always will. We are tainted, scarred, stained by another's love, lust, cheating, lying, crying, kissing, losing, dreaming. We are the risk takers, the ones who dare step into the unknown and often don't adhere to rules and regulations of societal ideals. We crave love. We crave endless excitement. We crave the adrenalin rush of a new lover. We don't settle. Wanderlust writes us. Each journey shapes us, choosing a new direction, experimenting with style, fiction, autobiographical tones. Landscapes colour our pages, pollute the rooms with a myriad of paints, smoking out those who don't endure, slaves to the written word, a pledge to keep reading pages of paper, dusty from step ladder high book shelves. Finding joy in limited first editions, autographed and locked behind glass doors. Fairy tales whispered by Hans Christian Andersen - The Snow Queen in a pop up book laced with glitter and scintillation. Falling into stories, Alice's rabbit hole, lost to liquor saying drink me. The young ingénue, naïve and shy, her first role acting, embodying the spoken word through the masters written script.
© Sia Jane
Jan 15, 2014
Jan 15, 2014 at 6:56 PM UTC
Sinking like a carelessly cosmic ****** on the 4th of J-U-L-Y, while a distressed young mountain lion lies on your feet.
Watch out for the cautious rubber shark inside the lines. It'd be something like Frank Zappa stuck on a deserted island with a dealer of his liking or disdain.
I believe in outlandish crazy industrialists in the distance between here and nowhere.
Lucifer has been infused with witchcraft and crack ******* Mindless ******* Thank your God.
Excellent nutrition is being presented as gluttony. Which in turn has caused your little sister to make daily offerings to a porcelain god.
Pleasure didn't invent rebellion but rebellion did however invent pleasure. Don't confuse the two.
A believer is magnetically drawn to immorality, much like man is to faith.
Inspiration simply radiates free energy and a smile should never be compared to a frown.
Dreaming can be mistaken for productivity. Dream big people, dream big.
Jun 19, 2012
Jun 19, 2012 at 3:56 PM UTC
extroversion and furtherment
of inner realism.
left to drum
right on the funk
flowing, growing
in supplies
and in the eyes;
straight
to the soul
and back up the brain
for interpretation;
annihilation
of any idea
left overlooked,
and now hooked
on something else -
internal shift
in perception,
through productivity,
and out of longevity
this shall rise.
Jul 15, 2013
Jul 15, 2013 at 12:41 PM UTC
*Integrity over Popularity
Mystique over Physique
Wisdom over Education
Spontaneous over Meticulous
Patience over Anxious
Peace over Pace
Grace over Face
Elation over Frustration
Spiritualism over Materialism
Honesty over Secrecy
Passion over Fashion
Honey over Money
Poetic over Pedantic
Relaxivity over Productivity
Attitude over Pulchritude
Gaiety over Propriety
Intuition over Sophistication
Intimacy over Privacy
Devotion over Ambition
&
Love over Everything*
~ For my best friend, Piglet <3 ~
Dec 21, 2013
Dec 21, 2013 at 6:19 PM UTC
I see a man who still dreams
And a man who aspires to be better than the man he was the day before
So Ambitious Man, how are you?
A mentally strong being who is the voice for others
That only he can gather the ears of his sisters & brothers
The power is within him but that ambitious man can not see
Because those small failures that set him back
Have him to believe he's weak
But ambitious man, can't you see?
The drive that you possess is what defines you as a king
And a king is a unique male being that many men desire to be
But lack the ambition and productivity that you so effortlessly own
In result, you are a king that sits upon the throne
So Ambitious Man, how are you now?
Knowing that your ambition & your drive is what won you the crown.
Oct 23, 2016
Oct 23, 2016 at 6:59 PM UTC
Creating, breathing.
Swallowed by a page
Immersed in a thought
Slaying thy rage.
Painting, singing.
Troubles gone away
Stolen by a song
Living a new day
Pencil stroke
Devour my pain
Make a work of art
Make me whole again
Aug 27, 2012
Aug 27, 2012 at 10:54 PM UTC
Tuesday's got a broken hot rod
It drives too slow, or doesn't go
Tuesday's got a lazy day ahead,
has creativity at best
has no productivity
but many things to arrest
And she's not only a loner
driving on a road,
she just doesn't want an answer
wants to keep her glow
Where is it?
Not where she thinks it is
Not in the trunk
not in the birdcage with the canary
not in the pistol in her kiss
Where is Tuesday going?
Not to Wednesday, that's for sure
Thursday's daydream makes her
unable to settle down anymore
She smiles, the sun is setting
If only Tuesday could learn to fix
that broken hot rod already
Jun 23, 2015
Jun 23, 2015 at 8:15 PM UTC
I woke with the grey dawn again,
Thinking of you,
And couldn’t fall back asleep.
I brewed some tea again,
Thinking of you,
And did the ******* dishes.
So that was more or less productive.
Aug 31, 2012
Aug 31, 2012 at 3:19 PM UTC
Jim, Clara, Lizzie, and Tim
are sitting comfortably
around a work meeting table
drinking delicious coffee and
eating delectable sandwiches
which their manager provided for free;
these employees love their manager.
Jim, Clara, Lizzie and Tim
area engaged in a ‘Quality-Circle’:
A group of employees
who meet regularly
to consider ways of improving
their workplace.
Jim, Clara, Lizzie and Tim
conceptualise themself
as not slaves but cooperators
with their manager
to improve
the functioning of their workplace
for the benefit of the employees,
and the benefit
of the shareholders, customers, suppliers
management and
their whole society.
Jim, Clara, Lizzie and Tim
are exercising joyful creativity
to identify problems
and discover solutions
which they will diligently implement
to improve their workplace,
to increase their joy and happiness
in their workplace:
by increasing ease of their work,
by increasing efficiency of their work,
by improving quality of their work,
by increasing productivity,
by increasing customer satisfaction,
by improving environmental impacts,
by increasing profits.
Jim, Clara, Lizzie and Tim
realise that a continuously-improving
well-functioning workplace
provides them secure and enjoyable employment;
so, participating in the joyful creativity
of a quality-circle
striving to continuously improve their workplace
makes them feel
joyful and happy.
Jul 24, 2019
Jul 24, 2019 at 5:24 AM UTC
It's a new dawn as the sun kiss the grounds
where wet dew penetrates the green grass
fresh happenings opens like a lotus flower
giving some purity from the murkiest pond
Ohh gentle wind of this pristine winter
embrace me in the song of the unborn day
let the disuse be the productivity that I long
let the grieve be the rebirth of new hope
Ohh gentle warmth of the sun ray stroke
shine the light and guide me in the day
let the vision of my happiness unfold
let the rocky cliffs clear to never return
Ohh gentle rain from above the clouds
wash the stained fuelled thoughts today
let the pride of life don the paradise
let the joy of life exorcise the yesterdays
Dec 26, 2016
Dec 26, 2016 at 5:42 AM UTC
What is 1 to 1.5
currency to relativity
urgency brings negativity
It's not about new tools
it withers your tools bring productivity
The way you slap that old guitar, the way you drive that beat up car
How fast does it run? How long does it last? How fast does it charge?
New can only take you so far
Let that distance your reach be derived from a skill, not from how rich or famous your are.
I often walk, even though I own a car...I prefer feeling the wind, the open-air, it makes me feel like I'm apart of something
The emotions I feel are driven from an organic substance, the dirt that I see the wind that I feel..these constant conflicts between what is man-made and what was here.
The stare of a deer, the tree was its friend, it's now been destroyed to make a path of cement.
That path of cement created a state of solidarity, urban prosperity, violence numbified by media regularities.
Civilizations become the norm, even though we all barely speak to each other physically
Digital formats become our literal floor mats, every result you leave results in a digital footprint, cataloged for the marketing lab rats
Too complex to understand like a physical labyrinth, Let me elaborate
So let me ask you ?! What is 1 to 1.5
Can you live without your social media vices, multimedia devices, tell me the definition of what "like" is
Currency, urgency, thumbs up if you feel like every part of your life is an emergency, if so then share it,
so the world can see
Then watch your conversations about fashion turn into a targeted ad about a jacket that is burgundy
Invasion of privacy? Not if your privacy is for the world to see.
Coincidently that jacket is on sale, so if you buy it this theory will not fail, and if you don't the media will still prevail, it's presence is an entire quarter, meaning it's heads or tails.
That's urgency hiding behind a veil.
Oct 19, 2016
Oct 19, 2016 at 1:32 PM UTC
if the sinking-of-boat …ice-cream by name
be deducted from the swept-off-in-flood … by name roll no 31
then would the wings of the comics
cease to exist
what says the uninterrupted sound of water-falling
from the stomach of the moon
what writes the pus and blood
what writes the fuming-hot rice
the creepers and the herbs grow continuously
in the insomniac bath-tub
the sounds of the horse-hoof floated by the river
used to change the velocity of its clothes
both in the morning and evening
the birds from the cornice go to school
by dip-swimming
it may come one day when the fishes
become very angry and in the tale of the sweet-meat
the potter will destroy the jointly-built bee-hive
then all hurricane would be habituated to dinner
sans saliva
then there would be no such morning-walk
in the body of the trees
from which such a bore could be found out
through which an elderly saral may fly
into the blue translation of a squirrel
the magnetic field of the orange-pulp
and the productivity of the open window
reside in the same locality
if their frequency be touched
then the the antenna of the mermaids
speared with sleeping-oil
may be injured
by burnings their eyes
the crow-birds knocks at
in the soap-foams
produced by the afternoon
the pond with a jumping deer
wants to make bite
it is not known by this way
when a white hyphen
sticks to the palate of the shirt
now put off all the whispers
and let it be talked on the will-paper of the bees
why the pages from the honourable ash-trays
be excluded
those bunch of waters
that come out from the churning of the anises
and the jumps born of their *****
also make friends with the group-photos
now let this other night sends its best wishes
to the future candles
through a cell-phone
Sep 14, 2010
Sep 14, 2010 at 5:25 PM UTC
is it love
or the parasite ?
my pilot bulk
aims for relief
it pursues this via
your romantic correction
in public arena
a library stair
(i never prior encountered you)
one step as foreigner
the approach
and upon a swift internal pendulum
i make witless incisions
hurried mended sentences
directed stuns
invasive
i demand the compromise
of your company
hastily push at boundaries and
you're not so accommodating
but
on a further occasion
same building
we exchange a battering of conversation
that
then
matures
into barter-like use of language
despite my harassments
a civil cultivation is unearthed
tongue within this intelligence effort i lessen
loosen my demanding appearance
disregard my dignity
a skin suit about the ankles
you're open in a vein of similarity
you flesh out your own controls
we've progressed quickly
there's an aped conduct
and flashing attitudes
this time we share table space
a nearby café
we have become quite unmanned
repeated meet ups
upon humours we adjust small habits
and shake on perceptions where we overlap
it becomes
more an overlay of rationalities
than resented promises
fast time passes and
i move into your living space
i pick a wildflower
and put it in the tiny vase on your dining table
we agree on its colour
we agree on a book to make our bible material
we agree on the pitch of the tinnitus we share
the clothes i am to wear
i switch to your diet
and you cease taking medications
we sleep on your lawn like children
and bring down the night sky for comfort
during the day we wear our sleep
like a lubrication for our chores
and go about our productivity
in genuine partnership
yet
i feel we're just out of reach
of some dark harm
we are an excellent sample pair
it is all vital
we grow stronger the more we quiz it
recycling our **********
refine our agreements
await further impulses
and come closer to plug
so..
do we please love
or simply indulge a parasite ?
Nov 23, 2021
Nov 23, 2021 at 10:28 PM UTC
My father taught me five:
He taught me
1. That it is okay to be late to dinner or not show up at all as long as you have a good reason.
taught me
2. That everyone makes mistakes and either you live with them or you runaway from them leaving only a voicemail and a forwarding address.
taught me
3. That you'll never have to be disappointed by others if your the disappointment and if you leave before the introductions.
taught me
4. That names are fickle, and there is never any point of telling someone yours if you have no plans to remember theirs.
taught me
5. That you have to give a little to get a little but that sometimes you give a little and get a lot of something you don't want.
My mother taught me five:
She taught me
5. That somedays you'll wake up and want to die because life is hard and no one will be on your side if you're against yourself.
taught me
4. That it is hard to forgive and forget and it is even harder when you're 19 and all you're left with is a swelling abdomen, a voicemail and a forwarding address.
taught me
3. That good deeds don't make the person, that sacrifices make the person, that waking up alone at 4am to a crying baby makes the person.
taught me
2. That it's healthy to cry, but it's not healthy to cry yourself to sleep at night and cry yourself into productivity in the morning.
taught me
1. That it is okay to be late to dinner or not show up at all as long as you have a good reason.
Dec 27, 2013
Dec 27, 2013 at 4:16 PM UTC
In this world of capitalism,
we're driven by consumerism.
We act out of a sense of entitlement.
At times, we order others like a servant.
We think we deserve our rights,
and just for that we'll fight.
Just so that we can win,
We'll raise our voice and create a scene.
In our competitive society,
There is so much emphasis on productivity.
We end up becoming exploitative.
Can the outcome really be positive?
We need to think carefully,
if we can live with ourselves comfortably,
when most of our gain,
is built on another's pain.
Perhaps we should really see,
that we're not much different.
You and Me.
There's so much more that we could be.
Be the change that you want to see.
To others, they might be somebody:
A daughter, a sister, a lover, a wife.
Please give some honour to their life.
Oct 27, 2014
Oct 27, 2014 at 12:23 PM UTC
Reading the other day,
an article about some,
Renowned fellow's notion,
On the study of "Human,
Productive Locomotion".
A reputed Authorty,
of "Time Management",
His main proclivity being,
The belief in his increasing,
Other peoples productivity.
Modulating their all too,
common Human tendency,
For naturally wasting time,
and non productive energy.
Him asserting himself to be,
a self styled know it all,
Bonafied Expert in Efficiency.
Now I can see,
How it might be,
That this type of study,
Offers some relevancy,
For the Barons of Industry,
What with them regulating,
The flow, While streamlining,
and furthering the advance,
of all things, relating to commerce.
A purely Scientific belief,
For the primary benefit,
Of the Time Clocks sake,
And all those Bosse's
Emotional financial betterment.
But what on earth,
did that have to do,
with an old retired,
fool like me?
What matter that,
I merely sit and think,
for hours at a time.
Read the paper,
or a book,
Computer chat,
or cook?
Putter in my garden,
Or gratefully just stare,
at big billowing clouds,
or rainbows in the air.
Or perhaps I choose,
to hug my wife,
Or chase my Grand
Kids up a tree,
Maybe grab a nap,
Or even take a ***
Pet my dog,
Or have a Beer.
Watch the Tube,
a little bit,
Or congregate to meditate,
with a convivial group of friends.
Maybe take a walk,
Down by the river.
Get out my old,
Bow and Quiver.
Wash my car,
Cut some grass,
Go to my writing class.
Slip on down,
to the " Red Dog Saloon"
Where I'll promenade,
A little Texas Two Step.
Come home in time,
To unwind and,
watch some David Letterman.
What's efficient,
and what is not?
Clearly, that interpretation,
Is completely up to me.
No Efficiency Expert needed.
Aug 28, 2013
Aug 28, 2013 at 4:33 PM UTC
Individuals:
Productivity's the thing
For objective worth.
Jul 15, 2015
Jul 15, 2015 at 8:14 AM UTC
two days into it,
already tip-toeing across creaking floors
and keeping eyes down to avoid confrontations.
all mom does is cry, argue, complain,
and i'm here to clean up the mess,
to agree with her, to make it all better.
two days into it,
already missing my support system
and my best friends to make me laugh.
i work out, but mom questions my reasoning.
i eat a snack, but mom questions calories.
i watch a show, but mom questions my scheduling abilities.
i do something as simple as lay down,
and mom questions my productivity.
i am seen as a drain on this family because
i am working on fixing myself.
questions upon questions that i have no answer to:
when am i going to work,
when is my group counseling,
when do i have volleyball,
how will i pay tuition,
how will i pay rent,
why am i changing my major,
how do i feel about people i haven't even
talked to in months,
am i going to mail him the necklace
i thought was lost,
am i depressed am i suicidal am i cutting.
mom i just don't have answers for you.
and i think it's about time you stopped asking.
May 21, 2013
May 21, 2013 at 10:21 PM UTC
Busy without end,
Needless activity that
Has no bounds.
False actions
So incapsalated with.
Fretting about my life--
An unanimated robot.
Chained to the illusion
Of fervid productivity.
Things to do, things to do
Never a minute, never an hour.
Constant motion--
Only smoke and mirrors.
Jun 25, 2014
Jun 25, 2014 at 2:13 PM UTC
People yearn for peace through the night
When they can only see by inferno light
A flame that engulfs the world
But begins in our hearts
We've been tainting this pearl
From the very start
When ****** is part of their plan
I honestly attempt to understand
But the tears I hate flood my brain
When fears create blood and pain
I'm willing to lose my agency
As long as they don't aim at me
We bang our heads on the wall
Until they roll on the floor
They built a ceiling so we'll fall
So we can't reach the door
I am no longer the man inside the estate
When I'm disenfranchised by the state
So I'm pushed to society's outskirts
For the people with whom I flirt
And my perceived net worth
But where one society ends another begins
And they all claim that I've committed sins
So I wander around
Just not inside towns
Where the bullets fly like the accusations
And productivity drains all inspiration
I live in the remote wilderness now
I hoped things wouldn't be so loud
I hear drum beats in the distance
They're explosions killing infants
But there's nowhere else to turn
And my lawn is starting to burn
Must I deal with the chaos colossus
Or could I continue playing possum?
Must I stare into the fiery abyss
To make it onto heaven's list?
Must I return to the mainland
To experience my final stand?
I will wrest sovereignty from them
I will rest in poverty until then
But I would rather have less money
Than subtract family members
They say you draw more flies with honey
But all the flies die in December
Nov 9, 2017
Nov 9, 2017 at 3:25 AM UTC
a snowman eraser smiles at me
smug, despite the pencil end shoved
elsewhere....
it's hard to believe that jolly lie
especially when delievered by
office supplies.
silence presents a focus
problem.
there's space to echo
clicks, slides and bangs from
a cliche school hall-
a distracting balm for
productivity.
the number of cups
of coffee I've
forced past my lips
does not add vigor to
my smile
no matter how much
it may taste of
synthetic vanilla.
I want to smash
this apple across
the knees of my employment.
since floricide is not
an option, I instead crawl
to the corner
and cower under my
dunce's hat,
and just wait
til the bell rings.
Jan 22, 2013
Jan 22, 2013 at 12:49 PM UTC