"saleable" poems
It's as though through letting ideas slip away into nothingness
I've died countless times:
unrealised, unfulfilled, unsatisfied.
Their last scream of agony devoid of substance,
reverberates through me,
Reminding me that
I've neglected to death that which could've filled me.
I sit alone quietly watching,
An ego of sand trickles down
each grain a like on a tweet, a seen video.
Aren't they really smart? The people who make these things?
Promised to make me golden,
And I am, indeed.
Just as cold and saleable as that.
NO no,
I keep trying to claw my way out.
It's taking too long, why isn't it working?
Hands getting weaker?
Nails dulling out?
Or maybe I've never had anything sharp on myself to begin with.
The worst is that I'm not alone in this
And most of you seem content.
Living being made to obey
With grains of dopamine being thrown around
as we dance to catch each in our mouths.
Not much different from these poor animals at the circus.
Let's cut this short.
Aim big and don't expect a praise or prize soon after you start.
People aren't brands and brands aren't people.
Let's learn to enjoy the ride more than the destination.
Good luck, I believe in me,
I believe in you.
Jul 15, 2019
Jul 15, 2019 at 9:58 AM UTC
Earthy mottled brown,
Pomme de terre
The humble spud,
When not covered in mud;
Chipped, boiled or mashed,
Steamed roasted or hashed.
First the Incas of Peru,
Used them in a stew.
Now the tubers grown in space,
To further the human race.
Chopin, Mozart, and Vivaldi,
Can all be bought at Aldi.
(Other supermarkets are available.)
(More varieties are saleable.)
A versatile Maris Piper,
Couldn't be any riper,
When served perfectly baked.
© Nick Strong 2014
Oct 27, 2013
Oct 27, 2013 at 6:59 PM UTC
With tender eyes
You tenderize me,
meat hooks sinking in
with the looks
that guide the
knife that slices
with each touch of skin
the cold metallic table,
unable yet manic
falling apart,
panic attacking
with each touch of the blade,
the butchers art,
taken from a stable,
for the sake of forsaken fables
feeble chunks,
fragments made into saleable pieces
the heart aside a different species
in a bucket,
It'll make great sausages.
Jan 22, 2014
Jan 22, 2014 at 11:16 PM UTC
432 was the amount
of a crushing defeat
for 202 Toe Rags.
432 is a symbolic figure
for Ireland and not a
poetic metaphor either,
it was the date St Patrick
arrived here from Boulogne
Sur Mer in Northern France,
where it was a tradition of the
local mariners to paint a shamrock
on their fishing boats.
432 has often been associated with
the 4 provinces and 32 counties.
John B. Keane's "Field" was 3 Acres
1 Rood and 32 Perches, a classic
representation of Ireland.
202, or TOT will become iconic also,
not as a number, more the word!
<>
TOT |tɒt|
verb (tots, totting, totted) [ no obj. ] (usu. as nountotting) Brit. informal
salvage saleable items from dustbins or ******* heaps. local authorities frown on totting.
Jan 16, 2019
Jan 16, 2019 at 5:20 AM UTC
I said you weren't my type.
I just dissed.
You looked like my brother.
So I didn't want another.
A mistake
my heart you would just break.
Real love you can't fake.
I didn't make myself available or saleable.
99.9% of Americans are stupid.
I know Ariel and a part of the 1% that isn't.
America is filled with drug addicts, homeless bums, perverts, ****** nuts, thieves, tramps, cons, ****** pimps, stalkers, greed, sin. ignorant, immoral, bad, cheating and low life people.
Who are liars, sick, mentally deranged, angry, crazy, ******** poor people.
European, English, British, Irish people
seem different, better, hard-working, proper, classy, distinguished, polite, considerate, thoughtful, moral, high class, honest, rich, intelligent, generous, caring, loving, good, modest, straight, wise, home owning, business managing, educated, family valued, sane people who are not corrupt or worldly.
Homebodies, farmers working class, civil, helpful, fearless, strong, nice, friendly and secure.
I hope to know some of them.
Get their luck of love and wealth.
A peaceful, quiet, happy home.
Of family & love & security.
Friends, money, fame, respect, loyalty, trust.
Land, bank, work, food, shelter, & clothes.
Shade from the Sun,
Warmth from the cold
A hand to hold.
Love to share with somebody who will care. Somebody to adore.
Who doesn't make me their *****
Someone who gives me gifts.
One who doesn't just drift.
A guy who acts with swift.
One who puts me first.
Who never makes me feel the worst.
I want them to be number one.
Someone who's not dumb.
Not just together for the fun.
Not after a few years will be done.
One who will last forever.
One who is clever.
One who doesn't say never.
May 7, 2016
May 7, 2016 at 3:55 PM UTC
Big brother; surveilled; rat runs of pounds;
Instaweb orbs, tendrils confound,
Face timely chats across coded binary,
Clocked on, logged in let it begin;
Around and around the wheels about town,
The daily homage to tubes underground,
Whistlestop lunches, lanyards and passes,
Payslip available labour force saleable.
PIN, Password, Face recognition,
Upload, drawn down, robotic volition,
Subdural naked forced aspirations,
Chasing dragons of faked motivation.
Push and chug and push and chug,
The relentless surge of more from above,
Steady inbound for disembarkation,
Life's sourjourn of self realisation.
Mar 10, 2020
Mar 10, 2020 at 7:49 PM UTC
You might not be tall
You might not be good looking
You might not be wealthy
You might not have a six-pack
You might not know poetry
But if you have a non-saleable and compassionate soul
You have everything..
...'coz a wonderful soul is the most beautiful piece of poetry that can ever exist
Layers and layers of goodness
Piled one upon the other
There's chocolate with vanilla
Oranges and peaches too
The body withers and weakens
But the soul is evergreen
The soul speaks without even saying a word
The soul defines you
The soul represents you
The soul is your true identity
Value your soul
Protect your soul
Fill it with all the goodness you can
'Coz it is what makes you a true man
Nov 17, 2015
Nov 17, 2015 at 4:58 AM UTC