I love my shoes, but they aren't mine
They make me feel taller
Borrowed them from the five and dime
Love the hoot and holler
I love my shoes, the men will stare
Walking without the slightest care
I love my shoes
I love my shoes
Awkward glances, I won't compare

I love those shoes, be my angel
On your beautiful feet
You're the one I must entangle
Your shoes turn up the heat
Dancing with you, just feels so right
I can get lost in them this night
Dancing with you
Dancing with you
Come on baby hold me just right

I love my shoes I must confess
They're much too high for me
Might just get myself in a mess
As I fall to my knee
Stilletto heels, they hurt my feet
Each spike connecting with the street
Stilletto heels
Stilletto heels
Will I ever stay on my feet

She arrives in high stilletto’s
And a miniskirt so taught
That the boys are all distracted
And our job becomes a rort,
And the office girls get ******
And production spirals down
So then our new Middle Manager
Rolls up her sleeves and goes to town....

She sticks her oar in frequently
And stands with jutted hip,
She’s territorial dynamite
And serves us gloating lip.
She often curries favour
With Department Heads and such
And makes a fuss at our expense
Which irritates so much!

She has a way to circumvent
The types she will not face,
In using her authority
To snidely put them in their place.
Her manner is too sharp
And too dismissive for my taste
And the condescending smile
Has me grinding teeth to paste.

And the way she stands and taps her toe
And glares beneath her brows
Has the office juniors panicking
And avoiding, as allows.
There’s an issue over paper
And the telephone account
And the petty cash, though balanced,
Is a questionable amount.

Historically our working week
Has employed a give and take
With an easy flexibility
That allows us all a break,
But the new Middle Manager
Has reversed the mode of work
So that everyone competes
And the roster’s gone beserk!

Her manner’s often strident
With a whiplash to her voice
And the snarl of her vindictiveness
Leaves us all with little choice
But to bend our backs to labour,
Work our fingers to the bone
And suffer her till knock off
Then, thank God, we’re fleeing home!

There’s a memo in the “In box”
Rumour has it, from on high,
That due to overdue restructuring,
That some redundancies are nigh.
And though there’s great reluctance
And some measure of regret...
It seems our new Middle Manager
Has got her notice...Sorry Pet!


Marshalg
Victoria Park Tunnel
15 January 2011

This *****
Artificially awake
Lydia
apples 20 years have passed
oranges i want a do over
manhole cover coins
savage glares across the 4 wheeled property lines
young moms not giving a ****, that's alright
kiss of sun hidden from
anxious from blue oak , it's ridges pluming in the dappled twist
and floundering wave, wiggling wave of oak leaves green as frogs.
ponytail suzy, *** from galaxy sci-fi
i brought up a cup while it was empty there,
but so distracted by my own trembling effort,
every hair a furry hood, every fatty fixture of my face a rebounding basset hound
tennis shoes up to my neck, dumb naked in my greenery,
already old somehow, the window closing,
the permanency of parks, like a stilletto in a limosine,
green fixture of my white blinded attempt to see tomorrow,
tourist .
thoughts of Sylvia
, my gaping awe at the feminine,
and its green garden.

-cbrander

black
the sky above so far reaching,
but disinclined
to become involved
in petty disputes
that night.

red
glowing the fire of sugar cane cleansing,
smoke thick,
billowing greasily

black
clouds covering
angry thoughts,
brought to bear
in closed fists.
beating sense into her
until,

red
flowed down
cheek and chin
absorbed by skin
and hair
and the little

black
dress he bought
for her to wear,
with

red
stilletto high,high heels. lipstick too for pouty lips,
now

black
and blue.

red
her thoughts as she lay beaten, but not
broken on the warm

black
asphalt tar, leaching

red
the cigarette end
showed
as slowly she stood,
fixated

black
the hilt of the knife protruding from the white dress-shirt

red
the lifeblood spreading

black
dress walking to

red
porsche,

his last view .....
              ........fading to

black.