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we're faced with everything but honest grief
hard lies are shouted in the open street
and pleasant words recited in retreat

by both the kind physician and the thief
until we think the harsh venom is sweet
we're faced with everything but honest grief

so we resile still there's no real relief
for either broken hearts or weary feet
since life itself turns out to be a cheat
we're faced with everything but honest grief
We’re not looking for someone unique.
We want someone who does not limelight seek.
Who stands safely hidden inside the crowd.
Who is not too keen, diligent or proud
to think inside the box.
Push the envelope? Certainly not!
A person comfortable in their comfort zone
who doesn’t waste time trying new skills to hone.
We want no go-getters!
Be gone, you self-starters!
You must  at all times self-prohibit
from going beyond your own limits.
Your boundaries you must never stretch.
Only do your best to rest and not stress.
Thrive on the predictability of monotony.
Resile from the challenge of opportunity.
A no-can-do attitude is a must
if you are to be someone we can trust.
As a team player you will go far
only if you’re first one at the bar.
Your one ambition must be to strive
to work only from nine until five.
And of course we’ll pay you like a CEO,
with a gold parachute when it’s time for you to go.
Now wouldn’t the world be perfectly sound
if only there were job adverts like this around!
Work,
Mohd Arshad Jan 2019
O my child, when I'm dead
And you weep at my grave,
He'll listen to your heart, sad,
Sitting in the breezy wave.

O my child, when I'm dead
And you're all the way lone,
He'll embrace you, dark clad,
With Lights that are shone.

O my child, when I'm dead
And if I'm not to care of you,
He'll build silky-leaved shade
For your snug breath in blue.

O my child, when I'm dead
And the fire keeps burning,
His angels will be overhead
And douse the flames, flying.

O my child, when I'm dead
And the guns go on the arrows,
They'll resile them and bloodshed
Will fade and do no more woes.
Ian Lax Sep 2021
I am odd yet aware

of my mind-numbing

existence

and ill-conceived

fidget-thumbing

I see the

uniform stares

from brain abandoned

eyes to fixate

on my posture

and gait.

I don't fit in

with my fit-out

outfit

but I won't sit-in

or sit-out

from the outset

nor resile

who I am

to become

all the while

— The End —