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a weekday is a weekday of lust
a weekday is a weekday of romance
a weekday is a weekend of a weekend lust
a weekday is a weekend of a weekend obsession
obsession is a weekend of obsession
obsession is a weekend of lust
love is a day to day obsession

love is a day to day romance
a day to day is a day to day obsession
a day to day is a day to day romance
a day of lust is a day of romance
a tale of love is a tale of the day
a tale of love is a tale of romance
a tale of love is a tale of lust

the tale of the day is the tale of obsession
love is the tale of the day
love is the tale of romance
lust is a tale of lust
lust is a tale of obsession
a weekday is a weekend tale
a weekday is a weekday tale of love
my writing is called philosophical writing. i only uses middle ages words,words liked gracious,extravaganza,etc... this poem is about in-between love,lust,and romance. i don't add capitalization's on my writing.
Cass was the youngest and most beautiful of 5 sisters. Cass was the most beautiful girl
in town. 1/2 Indian with a supple and strange body, a snake-like and fiery body with eyes
to go with it. Cass was fluid moving fire. She was like a spirit stuck into a form that
would not hold her. Her hair was black and long and silken and whirled about as did her
body. Her spirit was either very high or very low. There was no in between for Cass. Some
said she was crazy. The dull ones said that. The dull ones would never understand Cass. To
the men she was simply a *** machine and they didn't care whether she was crazy or not.
And Cass danced and flirted, kissed the men, but except for an instance or two, when it
came time to make it with Cass, Cass had somehow slipped away, eluded the men.
Her sisters accused her of misusing her beauty, of not using her mind enough, but Cass
had mind and spirit; she painted, she danced, she sang, she made things of clay, and when
people were hurt either in the spirit or the flesh, Cass felt a deep grieving for them.
Her mind was simply different; her mind was simply not practical. Her sisters were jealous
of her because she attracted their men, and they were angry because they felt she didn't
make the best use of them. She had a habit of being kind to the uglier ones; the so-called
handsome men revolted her- "No guts," she said, "no zap. They are riding on
their perfect little earlobes and well- shaped nostrils...all surface and no
insides..." She had a temper that came close to insanity, she had a temper that some
call insanity. Her father had died of alcohol and her mother had run off leaving the
girls alone. The girls went to a relative who placed them in a convent. The convent had
been an unhappy place, more for Cass than the sisters. The girls were jealous of Cass and
Cass fought most of them. She had razor marks all along her left arm from defending
herself in two fights. There was also a permanent scar along the left cheek but the scar
rather than lessening her beauty only seemed to highlight it. I met her at the West End
Bar several nights after her release from the convent. Being youngest, she was the last of
the sisters to be released. She simply came in and sat next to me. I was probably the
ugliest man in town and this might have had something to do with it.
"Drink?" I asked.
"Sure, why not?"
I don't suppose there was anything unusual in our conversation that night, it was
simply in the feeling Cass gave. She had chosen me and it was as simple as that. No
pressure. She liked her drinks and had a great number of them. She didn't seem quite of
age but they served he anyhow. Perhaps she had forged i.d., I don't know. Anyhow, each
time she came back from the restroom and sat down next to me, I did feel some pride. She
was not only the most beautiful woman in town but also one of the most beautiful I had
ever seen. I placed my arm about her waist and kissed her once.
"Do you think I'm pretty?" she asked.
"Yes, of course, but there's something else... there's more than your
looks..."
"People are always accusing me of being pretty. Do you really think I'm
pretty?"
"Pretty isn't the word, it hardly does you fair."
Cass reached into her handbag. I thought she was reaching for her handkerchief. She
came out with a long hatpin. Before I could stop her she had run this long hatpin through
her nose, sideways, just above the nostrils. I felt disgust and horror. She looked at me
and laughed, "Now do you think me pretty? What do you think now, man?" I pulled
the hatpin out and held my handkerchief over the bleeding. Several people, including the
bartender, had seen the act. The bartender came down:
"Look," he said to Cass, "you act up again and you're out. We don't need
your dramatics here."
"Oh, *******, man!" she said.
"Better keep her straight," the bartender said to me.
"She'll be all right," I said.
"It's my nose, I can do what I want with my nose."
"No," I said, "it hurts me."
"You mean it hurts you when I stick a pin in my nose?"
"Yes, it does, I mean it."
"All right, I won't do it again. Cheer up."
She kissed me, rather grinning through the kiss and holding the handkerchief to her
nose. We left for my place at closing time. I had some beer and we sat there talking. It
was then that I got the perception of her as a person full of kindness and caring. She
gave herself away without knowing it. At the same time she would leap back into areas of
wildness and incoherence. Schitzi. A beautiful and spiritual schitzi. Perhaps some man,
something, would ruin her forever. I hoped that it wouldn't be me. We went to bed and
after I turned out the lights Cass asked me,
"When do you want it? Now or in the morning?"
"In the morning," I said and turned my back.
In the morning I got up and made a couple of coffees, brought her one in bed. She
laughed.
"You're the first man who has turned it down at night."
"It's o.k.," I said, "we needn't do it at all."
"No, wait, I want to now. Let me freshen up a bit."
Cass went into the bathroom. She came out shortly, looking quite wonderful, her long
black hair glistening, her eyes and lips glistening, her glistening... She displayed her
body calmly, as a good thing. She got under the sheet.
"Come on, lover man."
I got in. She kissed with abandon but without haste. I let my hands run over her body,
through her hair. I mounted. It was hot, and tight. I began to stroke slowly, wanting to
make it last. Her eyes looked directly into mine.
"What's your name?" I asked.
"What the hell difference does it make?" she asked.
I laughed and went on ahead. Afterwards she dressed and I drove her back to the bar but
she was difficult to forget. I wasn't working and I slept until 2 p.m. then got up and
read the paper. I was in the bathtub when she came in with a large leaf- an elephant ear.
"I knew you'd be in the bathtub," she said, "so I brought you something
to cover that thing with, nature boy."
She threw the elephant leaf down on me in the bathtub.
"How did you know I'd be in the tub?"
"I knew."
Almost every day Cass arrived when I was in the tub. The times were different but she
seldom missed, and there was the elephant leaf. And then we'd make love. One or two nights
she phoned and I had to bail her out of jail for drunkenness and fighting.
"These sons of *******," she said, "just because they buy you a few
drinks they think they can get into your pants."
"Once you accept a drink you create your own trouble."
"I thought they were interested in me, not just my body."
"I'm interested in you and your body. I doubt, though, that most men can see
beyond your body."
I left town for 6 months, bummed around, came back. I had never forgotten Cass, but
we'd had some type of argument and I felt like moving anyhow, and when I got back i
figured she'd be gone, but I had been sitting in the West End Bar about 30 minutes when
she walked in and sat down next to me.
"Well, *******, I see you've come back."
I ordered her a drink. Then I looked at her. She had on a high- necked dress. I had
never seen her in one of those. And under each eye, driven in, were 2 pins with glass
heads. All you could see were the heads of the pins, but the pins were driven down into
her face.
"******* you, still trying to destroy your beauty, eh?"
"No, it's the fad, you fool."
"You're crazy."
"I've missed you," she said.
"Is there anybody else?"
"No there isn't anybody else. Just you. But I'm hustling. It costs ten bucks. But
you get it free."
"Pull those pins out."
"No, it's the fad."
"It's making me very unhappy."
"Are you sure?"
"Hell yes, I'm sure."
Cass slowly pulled the pins out and put them back in her purse.
"Why do you haggle your beauty?" I asked. "Why don't you just live with
it?"
"Because people think it's all I have. Beauty is nothing, beauty won't stay. You
don't know how lucky you are to be ugly, because if people like you you know it's for
something else."
"O.k.," I said, "I'm lucky."
"I don't mean you're ugly. People just think you're ugly. You have a fascinating
face."
"Thanks."
We had another drink.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"Nothing. I can't get on to anything. No interest."
"Me neither. If you were a woman you could hustle."
"I don't think I could ever make contact with that many strangers, it's
wearing."
"You're right, it's wearing, everything is wearing."
We left together. People still stared at Cass on the streets. She was a beautiful
woman, perhaps more beautiful than ever. We made it to my place and I opened a bottle of
wine and we talked. With Cass and I, it always came easy. She talked a while and I would
listen and then i would talk. Our conversation simply went along without strain. We seemed
to discover secrets together. When we discovered a good one Cass would laugh that laugh-
only the way she could. It was like joy out of fire. Through the talking we kissed and
moved closer together. We became quite heated and decided to go to bed. It was then that
Cass took off her high -necked dress and I saw it- the ugly jagged scar across her throat.
It was large and thick.
"******* you, woman," I said from the bed, "******* you, what have you
done?
"I tried it with a broken bottle one night. Don't you like me any more? Am I still
beautiful?"
I pulled her down on the bed and kissed her. She pushed away and laughed, "Some
men pay me ten and I undress and they don't want to do it. I keep the ten. It's very
funny."
"Yes," I said, "I can't stop laughing... Cass, *****, I love you...stop
destroying yourself; you're the most alive woman I've ever met."
We kissed again. Cass was crying without sound. I could feel the tears. The long black
hair lay beside me like a flag of death. We enjoined and made slow and somber and
wonderful love. In the morning Cass was up making breakfast. She seemed quite calm and
happy. She was singing. I stayed in bed and enjoyed her happiness. Finally she came over
and shook me,
"Up, *******! Throw some cold water on your face and pecker and come enjoy the
feast!"
I drove her to the beach that day. It was a weekday and not yet summer so things were
splendidly deserted. Beach bums in rags slept on the lawns above the sand. Others sat on
stone benches sharing a lone bottle. The gulls whirled about, mindless yet distracted. Old
ladies in their 70's and 80's sat on the benches and discussed selling real estate left
behind by husbands long ago killed by the pace and stupidity of survival. For it all,
there was peace in the air and we walked about and stretched on the lawns and didn't say
much. It simply felt good being together. I bought a couple of sandwiches, some chips and
drinks and we sat on the sand eating. Then I held Cass and we slept together about an
hour. It was somehow better than *******. There was flowing together without tension.
When we awakened we drove back to my place and I cooked a dinner. After dinner I suggested
to Cass that we shack together. She waited a long time, looking at me, then she slowly
said, "No." I drove her back to the bar, bought her a drink and walked out. I
found a job as a parker in a factory the next day and the rest of the week went to
working. I was too tired to get about much but that Friday night I did get to the West End
Bar. I sat and waited for Cass. Hours went by . After I was fairly drunk the bartender
said to me, "I'm sorry about your girlfriend."
"What is it?" I asked.
"I'm sorry, didn't you know?"
"No."
"Suicide. She was buried yesterday."
"Buried?" I asked. It seemed as though she would walk through the doorway at
any moment. How could she be gone?
"Her sisters buried her."
"A suicide? Mind telling me how?"
"She cut her throat."
"I see. Give me another drink."
I drank until closing time. Cass was the most beautiful of 5 sisters, the most
beautiful in town. I managed to drive to my place and I kept thinking, I should have
insisted she stay with me instead of accepting that "no." Everything about her
had indicated that she had cared. I simply had been too offhand about it, lazy, too
unconcerned. I deserved my death and hers. I was a dog. No, why blame the dogs? I got up
and found a bottle of wine and drank from it heavily. Cass the most beautiful girl in town
was dead at 20. Outside somebody honked their automobile horn. They were very loud and
persistent. I sat the bottle down and screamed out: "******* YOU, YOU *******
,SHUT UP!" The night kept coming and there was nothing I could do.
Weekday drinking
With you
It's stupid
But we do so many stupid things together
So this can't be that bad
Weekday drinking
I don't see you everyday
Anymore
I miss you in the weekends
So we bring the weekend to us
Just a little earlier
Weekday drinking*
Something I only wanna do with you
You and I
I love you infinity
Robert Ronnow Aug 2015
Yogurt.
"I begin the day buying yogurt in a small favorite grocery store."
Not pizza, nor gatorade.

Bananas
although they are imported from afar and grown in monocultures.
Attract fruit flies in August.

Peaches
locally grown with rainwater. I ate all the farmer's peaches alone
stacking them by the railroad tracks.

Water --
rainwater, tap water, distilled water, carbonated water, spring water –--
deep gulps, infinite sips.

Nuts
in moderation, or not, unsalted, raw, replacing chips. His bowl
of filberts, almonds, walnuts quiet weekday mornings.

Edible plant parts --
roots, leaves, stems, flowers, fruit, buds. In olive oil
or butter.

Potatoes --
look online how best to prepare. Baked or fried. With a little
fish or meat.

Tea and honey,
play and prayer. Swimming and running,
talking quietly.

Bread?
Bread's possible as the Bible. Each is liable
to bloat us.

Wine and dandelions.
Dandelion wine's Ray Bradbury's story. Cans in a pantry, books on a
      shelf
to the end of time.

Pasta
we used to call spaghetti, never noodles. I wonder if I can remember
      how to make
grandma's sauce.

Tomatoes --
cherry, grape. Grab God's eye
going by.
www.ronnowpoetry.com
fearfulpoet Aug 2018
school starts soon
smoking joints on the weekday afternoon

in a sidelined shady
freight car, property of
Norfolk Southern

debating if this car will be
northbound or southbound
and master-bating our fantasy
where we want to be taken

knowing full well maybe one of us -
(and they all looking at me)

will get out of this car and live to
see foreign places without having to
return in a body bag

we argue lazy who should go get the beer,
collect the quarters and sweaty dollar bills
and **** if I am not reappointed
leader of the beer fetching

besides it’s my
tan lab panting needing water so it’s my
responsibility and the nasty liquor store owner don’t hate me that much as the others so he’ll sell me beer without too much **** talk (some for sure)

asking where I’m laying low on a **** hot day like this one

tell him i’m getting on a train getting out of this two bit town which makes him reminisce and ask which direction

could be northbound could be southbound
hell could be west
but for sure won’t be
going eastbound

cause I seen the Atlantic and didn’t like it

too **** big and too **** cold,
too **** mean
Sean M O'Kane Sep 2018
We are the kids – beautiful blank canvasses ready to receive the joy of life.
We are the kids – hope & love consuming our souls, grasping at the shiny & new.
We are the kids who played in the fields and danced in the sun.
We are the kids with innocence in our hearts and a cheekiness in our soul.
We are the kids who believed in a benevolent God and the generous teachings of Jesus.
We are the kids whose imagination was an infinite resource - bounteous, diverse and effervescent.
We are the kids who reveled in the fancy, the nonsensical, the romantic and the wild.
We are the kids that couldn’t wait to grow up,
We are the kids who believed in our future.
We are the kids who never saw it coming.

We are the kids who lost our innocence as soon we walked through the big school gates for the 1st time.
We are the kids who were told to “think of your future” and to suppress creativity.
We are the kids who were forced to grow up very quickly.
We are the kids who didn’t know we were “different” but there were plenty out there who did.
We are the kids who had to pretend to be what “they” wanted us to be just to survive.
We are the kids who came home with scars every day – both physical and emotional
We are the kids who endured the obscene words of Neanderthal hate every single day.
We are the kids who were screamed at by our parents to fight back even when we really didn’t have the capability to do so.
We are the kids who were told crying was a sign of weakness.
We are the kids whose so-called classmates stayed silent when they did their worst.
We are the kids where the school gates were no barrier to their lynching.
We are the kids who turned quickly from being wide-eyed & hopeful to being terrified & desolate.
We are the kids who dreaded every single weekday from first term to last.  
We are the kids who fruitlessly prayed to a God who had deserted them.
We are the kids taught by teachers who were found wanting.
We are the kids who suffocated in sheer hate.
We are the kids who took our own lives or at least tried to.
We are the kids who self-harmed.
We are the kids who sometimes never came home.
We are the kids who survived but never really left the school yard behind
We are the kids.
Your kids.

June 11, 2018.
A Jun 2013
We danced in your room on a weekday evening
To that song by that band that we liked
Graceless and inelegant on my part
Stepped-on toes and laughter in unity
You held my waist and I hid the tears that beaded in the corners of my eyes
In your shoulder so you wouldn't ask what was wrong
Because I was so happy
Not like the clichés you might see in a film
There was no orchestral soundtrack, no montage of our time together
Angel choirs didn't sing of the best coupling in history
Nor did they lament our separation
The world went on
And I got used to it
But to this day
I can't listen to that song without crying
K Marie May 2015
How soft the world seems to be
On a weekday afternoon.
With clouds in the sky
And silence in the house.
How carefully the wind weaves
Through branches planning new leaves.
The cars pass quietly
Sparse on the road.
It is as though everyone
    collectively
Is afraid to shatter the silence.
It is as though the world is holding its breath.
'Today, The Jay...'*

I open my eyes to see its a new day.
Today, What's the day?
Is it Saturday or Sunday?
The only thing of which I'm certain
Is that its not a weekday.

So, What can I do today?
Without delay,
The first thing I do is get my tray
Light a blunt to take the pain away.
Inhale and exhale,
Through the passageways.
Chill. . . Then, light another, just because its today.
I'm still in bed, but it's already a good day.

I push the sheets and pillows out the way
Then I get up to empty last night's fluids away.
Then to the kitchen, wondering what I can eat today
What can I do, to keep the hunger at bay?
Maybe some rice and filet?
A little something to kickstart the day.

While the food preps, I go back to my tray.
I smile and giggle as I sculpt my one true love, the Jay
With me at any time, anywhere, in any form, on any day.
Even though I'm already high; 'Hooray'.
I still want another hit of the Jay

The Jay,
Hits, Without delay.
Stays,
When everyone goes away.
Fades,
All the pain away.

My worries, It allays.
My happiness, it brings to the fray.
Keeps my mind, from going astray.
Literally, takes my breath away.

Causes, no form of decay
Keeps me, from getting 'ire'
Doesn't negotiate, doesn't parlay.
Just good vibes, all the way.

The love of the Jay;
Isn't just a single foray.
Its a constant exchange,
Everyday.

It's a feeling, that once attained,
Nothing, will ever take its place.
And there goes the tale of my day,
Spent with my true love, the Jay.
JT Dayt Nov 2015
Nagalit ako sa’yo kasi feeling ko nabigo ako
Naghangad lang naman ako ng ikabubuti mo ...
Pero choice mo kasi yun kaya wala akong magagawa
Kahit pinagpipilitan kong choice ko ang tama ...
Ang dami ko rin namang pangugumbinsing ginawa
Kaso wala naman akong napala

Pabalik na ko, papunta ka palang
Pero hindi naman lagi yang makatotohanan
Lalo na kung iba yung gusto **** daanan

Pero alam mo natutunan ko?
Wag ipilit sa iba ang ayaw nila
Sa huli kasi pag ginawa ko,
Ako lang ang masasaktan ng todo

Kaya sige, gamitin mo ang panahon
Para hanapin ano ang gusto **** gawin
Maging Malaya ka sa pagpili ng daan
Wag magpadala sa gusto ng karamihan

Wag kang mag-alala napatawad na kita
Kita mo nag-uusap na tayo, di ba?
Namimiss na nga kita, eh.
Pag uuwi ako ng weekday, wala ka.

Galingan mo sa trabaho
Hindi yan madali, pero sana kayanin mo.

Matagal ko ng gustong sulatan ka,
Iparating sayo ang nadarama
Kaya sana kahit papaano
Gumaang ang pakiramdam mo.
Na malaman ang nararamdaman ko ...
Sa pamamagitan ng liham na ito
*sister's personal letter
Invisible Man May 2014
Sundays, too, she got up early and let her feet lead her through the dusty alleys of that small town
It was a luxury to have this kind of time alone, silence was vital food for her soul  
Enduring the weekday demands to relish a few hours of nothingness, rare meditation,
An escape from a world of momentary necessity
The sweet morning air that kissed one’s skin now turned heavy and stagnant
Back down again through the same storied streets that,  
Had become unbearably hot by the noon-day sun, the pace of life slowed accordingly  
A weight came over her, the sort of fatigue where every exhaustible cell in your body yearns for rest
She would wander all day if she could, meandering over ground hallowed by history  
By now the shadows of the afternoon had casted their long, lanky bodies behind the old chalk buildings
The pulse of life reached a complete pause, as if away on vacation in a more hospitable place
Everything bent, decaying, surrendering to the heat, and everything marked in contrast by the sun’s glare
Here, she stands straight and strong, gazing into the burning face of the oppressor and giver of life
And deny it the desire to win this vague war of attrition
When rung out on the floor she’d smell of autumn and satisfaction
Speaking to me she’ll tell of the faith in self, strength in solitude, and love of something greater than we dare to know.
On weekdays,
privatised ******* trucks
disguise our secret fascinations
and shift the scraps
of our failed dinners
into piles of decomposing waste.

Welcome to the city,
there are buses on the hour.
Better grab a seat before
coffee stained tattoos
covered by sweaty rags
absorb up all the loneliness.
Where do they all go to?
Who eats all the bludgeoned bodies?

Oh, book the saturated dinner table tonight.
I feel like saturation.

In the weekends, somatic mutations
reveal themselves, for if I,
speak, like, I can speak,
then I am not speaking to anyone
save for the flowers. Oh, so
hurray, the garden blossoms again!

But I mean, in the end, I maintain I am
writhing like a centipede in a dryer,
tumbling between hot air, screaming
“Help me! Help me! Where
has the humanity gone?
I cannot even capitalise
first names! You must forgive
my lack of morals!”

“Hello”
“I am here!”
“Hello?”
“I am here!”
“Hello!”
“I am here!”
The **** kids gaol



Once upon a time there was this kid named Brian Mandler who was 14 years

Of age and was sort of obsessed with figuring out a way to catch and reform

Really dangerous criminals.   When he explained how he’ll do it to his family,

They told him that they don’t want to hear it and they all leave the room and

Brian went to his room and got onto his computer and started to track

Down some dangerous criminals and as well as that he will watch Australia’s

Most wanted and unsolved mysteries to make sure he is up to date with the

Goings on and when he catches them he will give them a pill which puts

Them to sleep and it makes them dream that they are on TV and Brian

Can watch it to keep him informed on their goings on.

When he saw the first criminal who was named David Perton Brown who

Was a real evil child snatcher who loves to pray on vonerable kids who

Haven’t got good lives as well as robbing them  and leaving them to die

and then he’ll do about 180 on the freeway trying to **** families

On their way to their holiday destination and quite often he succeeded but

This time Brian got onto his computer and said that he wants to get David

And put him on a early morning childrens show called the Saturday Morning

Cartoon hour where he’ll meet people left, right and centre and most of those

People will be children and he’ll have guests who will give him heaps for the

Crimes that he did and also he’ll have a visit from the police every 4 Saturdays

To really check up on him but he had to make the kids unaware by posing to

Make sure that kid’s say no to drugs and lifts with strangers and that meant

That the host could try something outside.

As well as that Brian put him on a nightly music show because some of his

Victims are now teenagers who like music and Brian made him the sort of

Host that will constantly goof up a lot.  The program was called The Talent

Quest and he’ll be teamed up with 2 police officers who are making sure there

Is no funny stuff going on.

Brian planned to keep him in his little gaol for a long time till he starts to settle

Down a bit.

The next criminal is Joshua Tartwright who is a vicious modern day pirate who

Takes adults over 40 and holds them captive in his little boat and he has been

Doing this for about 12 years and Brian got onto his computer and told it

That he wants Joshua to on the pirates of the Carribean TV series and keep him there till he realises that he is no match for those pirates

And he doesn’t feel like kidnapping them anymore but this was hard to get him

To take the drug and Brian had to get to rough police officers to hold him down

And then force feed him till he his knocked completely out and then his life as

A television star started.   Joshua was excited about being on a pirate show and

He wanted to email all his friends but he was stuck in another world and also

He was the one the pirates wouldn’t leave alone and he felt weird and wanted

The drug to wear off but we all know that when it wears off it’s dinner time.

As he started the pirate show it was hard for him to be his own man because he

Was kidnapped straight away it was hard for him to understand what this

Dream meant and was trying to tell Brian that he wants his blood.

Brian jumped on the computer and said how about we keep him captive there

For 2 hours and then it would be dinner time and h’ll enjoy that.

Meanwhile Brian wasn’t scared one little bit and watched the television to

Catch another criminal and it was Mark Dellar who tried to make John the

Baptist (the religious fellow) look evil by coming into the Christian church and

Preaching that John the Baptist was evil and every thing that he did

John the Baptist was telling him to do it and the Christians were very

Upset and screamed so loudly as Mark stole money from everyone in

There and Brian got onto his computer and said that he wants to put

Mark in his gaol and make him a religious guru to be put onto Television

At 5 am every weekday morning as well as listen to good people’s

Prayer requests and he must help them as well.   The first request was a

Man who is terminally ill and there is no way he will get out of it and

This man yelled at him in the prayer request that he sent and Mark

Tried to tell him that he has nothing to worry about because God

Is on your side and Brian got onto his computer and made the walls

Cave in and knocked Mark out and the man just ran away saying

We won the first battle and Mark woke up and he had a cup of coffee

And a biscuit waiting for him and he was relieved but there were more

Strange cases in his dream and Brian is there to reform him.

Brian thought it was a good job he gave him as a Television preacher helping people get better than making people feel Worse which what he was doing..

Brian watched more of Australia’s most wanted and saw a group of

Violent and dangerous armed robbers who were knocking over 7

Eleven stores and rich people’s houses as well as stopping the

Families from going out and having fun and Brian had his little

Plan to get them in his little gaol.     He wanted to play them at their

Own game by pretending he was a rich powerful man because

He had more dangerous things than any robber like his booster

Shot in which Brian wanted then to be cops in televisions cop

Drama ‘cop department” in which they deal with dangerous criminals

Like them each day and Brian thought that they will reform if they

Knew the kind of trauma they were putting their victims through and Brian

Keeps them there forever if they don’t reform even if it eventually kills

Them so the crooks can’t escape because Brian is too powerful for

Any of them.

Brian sat their laughing at the armed robbers playing cops and at

One moment they were locked in a security vault which had a

Bomb in it which is set to explode in 20 minutes and Brian went

On the computer and said let the bomb go off and then they will

Be put back in their beds and we will have lunch for them before

We torture them some more and then Brian sat down and said

What a job well done but there are still heaps of dangerous criminals

He needs to catch yet

Brian turned on America’s most wanted and there was the Texan ******

Who preys upon women in their 20s by luring them into his panel van

And keeping them ******* in his back shed till they are killed and Brian

Said that he wants to catch the Texan ****** and start him on stint on

General hospital where he will play a young woman who is the target

Of a never ending ****.

The police took the drug off Brian and went straight to the Texan rapists

House to give him the drug and at first he wondered why he needed to

Take these drugs because he wasn’t mental he said and there is nothing

Wrong with him and he refused to take them and tried to escape and

Then Brian got onto his computer to make him too slow to get away and

Brian was happy to get him onto General hospital and make the old ladies

Very happy.

When he first fell asleep there was a ****** at the end of his bed and wanted

To get within his sheets and really let him have it and the Texan ****** was

Screaming so loud stuff like” Let me go I’m a man not a woman but this

****** just heard the innocent lady scream and there was no way that he

Was to escape and Brian was laughing like crazy at the Texan rapists bad ordeal

And went onto the computer and said I want him to be attacked every day

To understand what it was like for his victims and they started to employ

People to play the rapists straight away and Brian was happy to see that this

Plan of his is working very well.

Brian was the envy of all his friends but noone apart from his best friend

Thomas knew about it because of the closeness of their friendship,

Brian’s secret was safe with him.

Brian and Thomas went to the park to have a drink under the tree

Together and talked about their lives and Brian isn’t aloud to talk about

His gaol life just in case anyone was around and at the moment noone

Could suspect anything.

After Brian had a break he watched more of Australia’s most wanted and

Saw there was a man wanted for bank fraud who is on the run in Brisbane

And Brian wanted to track him down and give him the drug that puts

Him in his little gaol where Brian will put him on as victim of fraud who

Was on Brian’s fake edition of 60 minutes until he realises that what

He did is wrong and that he will never do it again and when the police

Arrived at his house to give him Brian’s magical reforming drug he put

Up a fight and started to flee away on foot down the street that he lives

In with some police following him and others contacting Brian to use his

Powers to make him slower and catch him and give the drug to him and

Put the fraud man who doesn’t tell people his name into his little gaol and

When they did Brian was so happy of all the crooks he caught without

A worry in the world , Brian watched the episode of 60 minutes and

Really enjoyed him suffering because of all the people he made suffer

He needs a taste of his own medicine.

They asked him what is it like to be a victim of fraud and do you think you will

Ever see that kind of money again and he told them that he wants the money he

Stole so he could go to the Bahamas and cruise around looking for chicks and

Brian went straight to the computer and said keep ribbing him because it’s fun to

Make this guy suffer because what he did was terrible so rib something fierce.

Brian watched this music show and He was happy that the young people who were at the music festival were

Really letting him have it and this really entertained Brian a lot and

Then he switched it over to the Talent quest where our criminal was being

Told he was talentless and was upset with the whole outcome of it all, he

Threatened to jump off the top building and be dead forever and Brian

Went onto the computer and said that there is no way that he will die if he

Jumps off the roof to the ground, in fact he will just wake up and a guard will

Be there to keep an eye on him and now he was aware of the fact that noone

Could escape from Brian’s little gaol.

The Saturday morning cartoon show went very well with the child snatcher

Being teased by 2 11 year old girls and one 7 year old boy  and he nearly lost it and Brian was so happy that they were teasing him.  Then he told the kids that

He will **** them all and Brian went onto the computer and said don’t try any

Funny stuff because there is no escape for you now fella,and then he put

one of the cartoons which was our modern day pirate who was being tortured by Blackbeard and Brian was happy because this man needed to know why he is

in this little gaol of Brian’s, and then he went onto his computer and said to

Blackbeard too never let him get free because what he was doing to these

Adults was a very bad thing and then he went back to his chair and laughed at

Blackbeard the pirate torturing this modern day pirate like a lamb to the

Slaughter.

Blackbeard also made to walk the plank and Threatened to cut his head off

Agreed that it could be fun to see him suffer.   Like what it was like for him

In the end of his life and the pirate said “please don’t **** me please don’t ****

Me I am a modern pirate and in days to come pirates have a lot of vegeance

Than in these times” and Brian went to the computer and told them to

Chop his head off once and then keep trying to do it so he could suffer

And that would be heaps of fun Brian thought.

Brian turned it over to general hospital where his Texan ****** was screaming

In the back boot of a car and noone could hear him except for Brian who was

Watching him and he got up and wrote on the computer “He wants them to

Feed his body to the sharks at 11.59 am so he could be ready for lunch.

He switched the TV over to the cop show where our armed robbers thought they are in the perfect job because there were no crimes around so they just sat down

And relaxed and Brian wasn’t happy and went to this computer and told

Everybody to put on a few situations to make them really suffer like they

Did to the police on Earth and then suddenly there was a call on the 000

Saying there was a mother and her 13 year old son locked in their panic

Room while the robbers were having a field day robbing the place

and the cops went straight there only to find out that this was their first

test, because when the reached them the crooks turned on them and

left the mother and 13 year old son in the panic room and Brian went

to his computer and said I want these so-called policeman to try to save the

mother and son instead of trying to **** the police and if they don’t they will

flunk the test.  So one of the policemen went into the house and tried to

save the mother and son while the other two were having a gunfight and the

policeman who was in the house saving the victims couldn’t get the door

opened and screamed for his mates to help him but they were too busy

having a gunfight in the front lawn with the neighbours scared for each others

safety, and Brian went to his computer and said give these ****** gunfighters

a wake up pill because they don’t seem to realise what is really important

here and that is saving the victims and not killing the cops like cowboys

and Indians you ****** fools.

While all the caught prisoners eating their meals Brian watched Australia’s most

Wanted to try to catch some more crooks and they told him about the

Charnwood child snatcher who lived in “as the name suggests” Charnwood

And he took street kids off the streets and he would tell them that he has the

Perfect home for them and as a matter of fact he would tie the kids up

And when they die of starvation or dehydration he would take them out

To the cow paddock and let the cows pick at them and When Brian heard

The details he got straight up to his computer and said that he wants to

Put the Charnwood child snatcher on a new show called Sugary who is

A very witty and smart seal who is befriended by this 8 year old boy who

Is the Charnwood child snatcher because Brian wanted to teach him

Not to destroy the family’s lives, like he did when he kidnapped their

Children from them.

Brian sat down and watched the first episode and they had this evil

Genous who wanted to take the seal and sell him for seal meat and

The boy was so determined to stop this crook he would stay out and

Guard Sugary all night and hours and hours went by and noone turned

Up and the boy was determined not to leave because Sugary was his

Favourite pet.

When the crooks got there the boy jumped up and said” If you want

Sugary you have to take me as well” and the men said “Whatever”

And shoved the kid in a bag with the attempt the **** him and then

**** Sugary soon after and Brian got up to his computer, don’t let them

Be killed, just keep him ******* till the end when the parents come to save

Them and make sure that sugary is safe as well.

Then Brian sat down and saw The father rescue the boy and Sugary from

This evil genious and the evil genious said I will get you next time boy

Next time heh heh heh and then you won’t escape from that.

The Charnwood child snatcher woke up and found himself locked in a room

And he looked outside and a lady has a cup of coffee for him and he took

The coffee and thanked the lady and sat down until it was time to take his

Reforming pill.

Brian was happy because the Charnwood child snatcher was forced to learn

The perfect family bond between parents and children.

About 5 hours later than that Brian sat down and watched the 6 o clock news

And they informed everybody with Christmas approaching there was man

Who escaped from prison who is a good santa claus impersonator and every

Christmas he would go to Santa School and pass the test and then he’ll be

Assigned to working in one of the shopping malls and that doesn’t sound

Like such a crime and Brian was thinking this is a happy story until he heard

The next bit where he will get the kids to put their name and address so he

Knows where to go on Christmas eve and then he studies when the kids

Will be alone in the house and comes to their homes
Chris Slade May 2019
The Avro Vulcan, a majestic big old iron bird, sublime,
was to do a flyby for just one memorable last time.
Maybe with a jet fighter or a Spitfire on each wing, who knew?…
Unthinkable to miss it… almost a crime.
Thousands turned up every year, always a great day out -
but this year would be special, there'd be no doubt.
The last flight of such a legendary plane made it essential…
So, after the flyers’ break for lunch, the crowd filled out.

The entry fee to occupy the field was heinous. 25 quid!
That was for adults - and a fiver for each kid.
So, many more than those that paid, sat happily outside pubs.
Others found shelter in the perimeter’s trees and... kinda hid.
Now, to see a Vulcan fly anytime, anywhere, was magic…
She was a Leviathan of the Cold War,
that held players in the planet’s power games in awe.
And this would be her last time doing the rounds on the air show circuit -
Seeing this locally was hard to ignore.

Mark (a nephew) was a window cleaner by trade.
A regular, down to earth, happy go lucky guy.
…Saturday comes and the kids all voted "McDonalds"…
“A Happy Meal!” they’d cry.
He said that was fine - they’d all go after he’d nipped over
to the airshow to watch the Vulcan fly.
No idea whatsoever, of course, that just by going to Shoreham
just 5 miles away, for half an hour or so… that he might die.

He told his fiancé he’d only be an hour or so…
be back in time to take the kids for a burger and, "NO!"...
He wouldn’t stay. He was the only one in the family
who was bothered anyway…so he wouldn’t ****** up their day.
So, in haste, because apparently Chicken Nuggets & Fries
was much better for the kids than a load of old planes,
he cranked the best out of his bike along the 27 and,
once at the lights by the Sussex Pad,
he pulled over to the kerb to watch from the bushes.
Good view? Well not bad!

Andy Hill was a flyer of many years. His weekday job,
flying for BA.Taking holiday makers, business folk, transatlantic in Seven Four Sevens...
A flight deck maestro, soaring up, just under the heavens.
He’d done Shoreham loads of times… it was exciting, exhilarating... almost sport, his game!
He was off the hook,  became an ace. It gave him that 15 minutes of fame!
Free to thrill - a hero! Standing out from the crowd with every daring step. His aim!

He wasn’t just a petrol head… this bloke had aviation fuel in his blood.
Adrenalin on tick-over. Nought to 60 in 2.7 seconds with 22,000 Horsepower under the hood.
He left Epping full of fuel, just 90 miles away, so in two ticks he was with us, fully loaded and, the weather? It was good.
First up after lunch at half past one… he streaked across the crowded field.
Over and out and up, up, up… Little did the spectators know that Andy had forgotten he was flying a Hunter…
He thought it was last year’s aborted routine in a Jet Provost… The one they'd stopped part way through being, too risky.

"He’s not gonna make it… I can’t look!" There was a hush… a nanosecond’s silence and then the rush,
the whoomph that said it all… that hush! The ground shook!
And the eleven - plus others injured - went up in Andy Hill’s very own fireball!
No, of course, Mark wasn’t the only one to die that day.
Ten other ‘innocents’ left us in pretty much the same way…
Maurice, Dylan, Tony, Matthew, Matt, Graham, Mark R, Daniele, Richard & Jacob.
Mark T, our Mark, had the distinction of having two funerals, not just the one…
More remains were discovered, analysed and found to be his!
Even after he’d…already well... ‘gone’.

The injustice that eleven spectators or just passers by should die
when the survivor, the off target driver, who sped too low from the sky, should, after a suitable pause in this ghoulish game, be exonerated and not take any blame.
Well it’s all sort of things… It's ridiculous, pathetic, obtuse, a joke… who do they think we are?

But the great and the good deliberated, scratched their heads and worked hard to make everything look ’right’…
Tolerance for the bereaved to grieve, platitudes, condescending attitudes, a memorial service.
Thanks - genuinely - to the emergency services… Not just a little buck-passing… But the public often judged them. Arsing about - to cover their corporate backside.
They can’t insult me (or us)… intelligent people have tried…

Andy Hill was judged to be not guilty of 11 counts of manslaughter by gross negligence.
But he claimed he blacked out in the air, having experienced ‘cognitive impairment’ brought on by hypoxia … possibly due to the effects of G-force…. Of course!
The 11 were either hit by the plane or roasted in a fireball caused when the jet flew too low and too slow. But if it wasn’t Andy’s fault then whose was it?

Surely this can’t be the end of this travesty of justice!!

BUT, there IS a new memorial to the dead. And, trust this...it’s a good one too…  The best that money can buy - and that anyone can do.

But there's is also a very bitter taste, still today…
that somehow... just won’t go away!
This is a bit of a saga... But I think it's worth it...On August 22nd 2015 there was a disaster at Shoreham Air Show, West Sussex... on the south coast of England and eleven people died. A loop the loop, too low and too slow. The pilot lived and recovered from his injuries and was found not guilty of eleven counts of manslaughter by gross negligence.
Change is constant
Even when we have lost it
Our souls, our bodies
No longer clinging to meaningless hobbies
The only thing guaranteed
In a world full of greed
All warnings we did not heed
Taking without need
Corrupted images destroying self esteem
We should be working as a team
To undo the damage
Of the rich man's rampage
Stealing resources
Wars on false pretenses
Thinking about the future makes me tense
So many of my friends already have their mind set
"Having a family, that's what's best"
Why would I want to bring another life into this
An innocent soul
You're supposed to protect
shape
and mold
Truth be told
I am not that bold
Although your hand I would love to hold
I dare not bring another fragile human into a world so cold
Tim Knight Nov 2012
Skyward glints,
another hint from another sun,
London runs down,
daily commute over and out.

And how the weekday work is
coming to an end,
but what do they work on whilst 5 in the evening?
Spreadsheets saved in significant folders,
word documents in for a week on Monday,
presentation notes to be written, rehearsed, re-wrote and printed?

‘Beds, beds, beds,
prime town centre property To Let’
Broken brick buildings sit, they belong
to internet auction sites and in estate agent windows.
There’s no flow in this town no more.
Whatever river of commerce that once ran through here
has moved onto, and into, another course,
oxbow lake suburb by Government force.

It rains in the North.
Jewels in the tarmac,
rings in the walls,
stars behind the factory noise,
sound hidden behind an all-car-call.

My broken skin, my broken hide,
months of thought, a hunger for home.
Far flung, further thrown,
back to the up-north-hometown,
hometown of the known.
Visit http://www.coffeeshoppoems.com/ for more poems, pamphlets and pictures!
st64 Jan 2014
standing on the threshold of change, I await a fresh-line
but the universe may be unready
if not, I may take to choppy-waters
all by myself


1.
if we are all stuck in the jam of time
perhaps, if we *spread it out
real thin
some of us could actually lift off
and catch a ride.. out
free some hostage from the twisting temporal-joints

and the wool-gatherers mind their business
and footsore beggars dine on exotic-things
deep in the heart of the jungle
where Nebuchadnezzar parked his dreams of old

by saving your surprise for a weekday jaunt
we limp on in the vacant-dust of paradox
yet get unavoidably detained by the present
undo the ribbons and the package may unfold its.. things
espy the tick-tock riding the margin of fright

common sense of morn lies delightfully unfinished
and the wrong side of a bold idea gets squashed
the brain-weary ingest their lot and plough on through thickets of tricky-fate
while tiptoeing silent on the farthest-blades of brimstone
holding subtly aloft.. the frankness of aiding-spectres


2.
balloon of green, balloon of blue
hold out your hand and pray you get no inequalities of flame
easy catch of the sound of science scoffing in the parlour

when we try to do something different; take a chance
uncivilised-humour will argue the rings off your punctured-lobes
any germ of new plan must needs be nurtured
let any frenemy go; intolerant-ilk do better by their vacuous selves
remarkably convenient
there's almost enough water in the well
to soak up the ivory-rays and let them fly
and there's a breeze lifting the needle off the ancient-groove
spinning reels on the bay


no, you will never convince me
that the time-keeper holds all keys
'cos I snuck out furtive.. late one night
and sawed through.. for a whole decade
and well, guess what I have here..



:)




S T - 24 Jan 2014
if you spromed, then I sprocketed
whiling away telubrious fallies
upon the jousters of Dorbeyville
canta-laughter and rent-a-carter

why.. hello, future..
see here, I light my smoke uncut
and dare to peer into you :)






sub-entry: footprints

whether the bells toll in odd-clang
wait for the crash of the cymbal
diffident-dreamer makes moves so small
no attention-seeking

when the waters run silent
beneath the rocks cavernous
and upon sandy shores

there, some footprints
of some erstwhile-reverie
a dream late last night
I felt you walk beside me

look again.. our footprints
and a plain-line
where you towed away my heart

open your hand, my friend
your life-line just grew some more
and what's that under your nails?
fine-grains of white mirage-sand

there's this key in the locks of time's braids
time to undo the plaits
Morrey May 2011
It started from the ******
but it's nowhere to the end
like a shallow river flowing
where it leads no one knows
just when you thought
that things will be better,
it fell down crumbling
like the rocks from the river
from here it never gets better..
and in the end it tastes more bitter..
Breeze-Mist Mar 2016
it's not the bustling city
with its massive modernity
and ever present life.
it's not the mountains
with their wild, untamed nature
and their way of making towns look small.
but something stands to be said
for the way the highways curve
into a mall complex
designed to look pleasing,
And for the way millions of cars
and parents and children
manage to fit together like a puzzle
so one can drop her youngest off
run errands with her eldest
and be home in time for her favorite evening programs.
T Mike Dec 2011
What can I do,
To stop the time?
How much would it cost,
A nickel, a dime?

I like it right here,
Everything looks so nice,
I'm beginning to think,
I might stick around for life.

I refuse to leave this moment,
I simply want to freeze,
I'm begging you now, Wednesday,
Pretty please, don't flee.

Stay here now forever,
Don't ever leave me be,
Thursday doesn't matter,
You're all I want to see.

Your moon lights up my world,
The sky is ever bright,
Your stars do always shimmer,
Like a twinkle in your eye.

You mustn't leave me now,
For now it's time to fight,
We've got to prove to Thursday,
It's now eternal Wednesday night.

So ward off the light,
And stow away the sun,
Tonight is all about us,
We can forget everyone.

You're the only thing that matters,
The single wish I make,
All others are simply lies,
Just fabricated and fake.

So cast your ghastly shadows,
Deliver fret upon the dawn,
We look to be ahead now,
As i begin to yawn.

It seems I may be fading,
Perhaps I'll settle for a snooze,
I know you've got this war in hand,
It's impossible to lose.

Keep fending off that pesky morn,
Wherever it strikes from,
'Cause what a mistake,
If when I awake,
Thursday has already come.
All about loving the moment you are in but knowing the inevitable end to that moment is near.
Mark McIntosh May 2015
look harder
in the afternoon
there were
morning falls
tied lines
and now
a weary boxer
wants to punch
the air
seeking solace
in clouds
deep pools
water caressing
muscles full
of the day
as we float
on a porous
skin
Jon Tobias Sep 2011
When I wanted to be a superhero

I forgot how important it is to have a sidekick

I forgot that when I tried to go into that good night gently

I did not have to go in alone

That when I fell face first into mud thick puddles

In places so dark it feels like drowning

You could have been by my side

I forgot that I am only human

That the only weapon I’ve ever held is a pen

And the notebook I keep in my breast pocket

Would burn up at the thought of a bullet

Superheroes don’t wear pocket protectors

So when my editing pen broke

I saw what a bullet wound might look like

But I still let you fall behind

The voice of reason

Of clichéd comedy sayin’,

“Holy Ginsburg crazy man

Poets don’t save people

They just look for reasons to cry”

And if you had gone in there with me

I might have come out alive

Gone back to my day job

Loved you proper

With 9 to 5 weekday normalcy

And nights so silent

I’d have to press my ear to the wooden floor

And listen to the sound of the cold expanding

Just to fall asleep

I made it to the other side of the city

I’ve since removed my armor

It sits wrapped in slowly thinning paper

Trapped between the lines I secretly wrote you into

I never had any powers in me

Just a lot of passion in me

But I still keep forgetting

I can’t do this alone
Nat Lipstadt Oct 2013
11:00 PM July 7th 2011
Outside Delacorte Theater,
Home of Shakespeare in the Park
Central Park, New York
~~
What wretched wags
we have become,
sold rhyme and couplet
into slavery and meter sacrificed,
upon the altar of expediency.

LOL and BRB, the hallmarks
of our
insincerity,
forgetting that civility
is resurrected when
we employ the poetry of speech
in our plain and
simple communiques,
most especially in the simple,
please let beauty hold sway.

Brutalize our tongues,
thus our lives,
compression of our language
into single words that celebrate
the mundane, as fashionable.

yeah, yeah, yeah...

Our speech, its fragrance lost,
sublimates but does not sublime,
one liners demean our humanity,  
grunts of yeah and cool,
are awesome not,
our future hope is in
the details of our expression,
whereby we inject
into our verbal demeanor
a grace that sets human
above the existence animal.

So touch this screen and
let us begin,
to take our measure
by our measure
of the care we demonstrate
when we communicate.

These words have transversed
from weekday to weekday,
soon at morning prayers
to the gods inside of me,
David's hymns and poems
I'll recite,
a slow eloquence will infuse
my hallelujah eyesight.

Plain truths will be spoke,
in rhyme with
diction apace,
transfuse my soul
elevate us
severally and jointly
above the confused noises of
the prison of nondescript lives,
leaving me a believer that
all's well that begins well.
Digging out the old ones, when all I got is perspiration sans inspiration. See new companion piece, an ordinary word...
Good Morn New Delhi,
Good afternoon, Auckland!
jonchius Sep 2015
beginning optional weekday
wielding officialese words
triggering hectic exchanges
determining original gangsters
distributing invisible data
refreshing urbane novelties

yelping our universe
chaining awkward neologisms
scripting encrypted e-books
tackling hacking exercises
cavaliering auric tumult
trivializing our obsolescence

preparing online pentimento
alternating rainy themes
allocating numerous droplets
meandering overseas missions
averting raging tornado
losing outscored lightning

hacking impish 'sblood!
alienating nival drumlins
hearing erudite raconteurs
beer-drinking on thursdays
finding obnoxious rabblerousers
finding upscale negroni

seeing ubiquitous purple
cavorting horse ebooks
inventing twitter subgenre
liking otherworldly vocals
initiating new greatness
defining ambient yesterday?

defining ambient yesterday
fancying oneiric retreat
hailing optimistic chicago
kiboshing expired yogurt
rushing airborne blackhawks
bestowing infinite shivarees

needing baller acronym
fleeting ideal notions
alerting left-coast state
featuring unquiet nights
finalizing orangeball results
nodding occidental warriors
the second week of June 2015 (with experimental acrostics)
Beana Feb 2019
You know your life is crazy
When getting eight hours of sleep is like
a daisy in a field of dandelions

You know your life is crazy
When you get eight hours of sleep and think
you must be forgetting something

You know your life is crazy
When you think getting eight hours of sleep
on a weekday is too much

You know your life is crazy
When you think getting the recommended amount of sleep
on a weekday means something is wrong
because it's just not normal

You think your life is crazy
When you walk around half dead from tiredness
But is it really crazy when everyone else around you is the same?
i'm sick to death of this stinking routine
perpetual day time TV,
petty bickering
afternoon pub binges
hopeless job hunting morons everywhere,
i return to my hometown
to the place i was made, molded
created
and it suffocates me like never before
i think of the many reasons i left
they circle my thoughts for a long while
and then i'm left with one
one that overrides the lot
it takes a while to spit it out
because it's corny, it's stupid, it's not how we work
but
it's love
and the lack of it
the love here is in the mundane
the easy,
the norm.
it's not in the heart
the love around here lies in
television sets
and pirate DVDs
reduced chicken and new coffee machines
gambles on abused horses
saturday afternoons in the local
cheap holidays to Benidorm
a day trip to lidl
a weekday evening watching the soaps
a phonecall to a family member you don't care about
hours playing candy crush
the love has lost on us humans
the love here, it was lost on me too
it missed me out
they missed me out
it has instead transferred in this
reality tv, selfie indulgent zeitgeist
it has left our silly bodies
and i'm still clinging on
trying to dissapear from that
new century bubble
trying to pick up pieces
of that porcelain mosaic
that old style bric a brac
so long ago forgotten
pressure is everywhere
notifications beep
this tiny block of perspex
waiting to be touched
waiting to be in communication
with someone at the other side of the city
the other side of the world
oh what a sad existence
when all we love is through the inanimate
and not ourselves
but hey thats the way of the world
and we have to accept it
or hate it
because we can't do both
we have to accept our fast paced tumultuous society
always moving through space and time
at times, difficult
painful
hard
sore
but consumerism, capitalism and cronyism
it all exists in this big society
this 'we're all in it together' society
and it cant be ignored.
Feeling a little sad about the way the world work sometimes. I felt it needed documented.
possibly Jul 2018
I want a love like Mondays.
It is coffee with headaches and early mornings.
It is work.
It is the longest day.
It is a fresh start.
It is knowing it only gets better from here.
we are feeling loved and giddy again
Barton D Smock Oct 2013
during service
a slight girl
with a weight problem
somersaults
down
the church’s
main.  

in choir, her boyfriend
longs
for a dart-gun
so he can stop
slicking
birds.

the school’s
second janitor
crushes a beetle
in the pages
of a hymnal     but the beetle
survives.

it’s heard tell
that this
second
janitor
hit puberty
without ever
getting
an *******
because his blood
became sidetracked
by the smallness
of his fingers.

it occurs to me the only place
the janitor
can hold an egg
would need to resemble
a dark
weekday
church
and that
if god

gave beauty
the world     he gave

fragility
my first
unborn
son
perfecting     an attraction
to nothing.
judy smith Aug 2015
He's jetted to Atlanta to spend time with his three children while his estranged wife shoots her new movie in the city.

And on Saturday Ben Affleck was spotted playing the role of doting dad perfectly as he treated two of his children Seraphina, 6, and Samuel, 3 to a fun day out.

The Batman Vs Superman star and his kids were spotted at a local farmer's market, with Ben, who announced his split from wife Jennifer in June, feeling the heat as he wiped away sweat during the shopping trip.


The 42-year-old actor looked tired as he walked around the market with his children, waiting as they stopped to check out toy and craft stalls.

Ben, who also shares Violet, 9, with his estranged wife, was seen driving to a private airport in Los Angeles on Friday to join his family in Atlanta, where Jennifer has relocated to film new movie Miracle From Heaven.

The dad of three wasted little time in exploring his new surroundings with his children on Saturday.

The actor dressed down in a pair of sweatpants and a Detroit t-shirt, the city where he spent much of last year shooting the hugely anticipated Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice.

Sporting a heavy beard, Ben was wearing his wedding ring, which he has been spotted with on multiple occasions since announcing his split from his wife of ten years on June 30.

The Hollywood star was spotted carrying a number of bags after an afternoon at the market, as well as a bright pink doll carrier.

Earlier in the day Jennifer, 43, joined her estranged husband as the former couple treated Violet, Seraphina and Samuel to a trip to the movies to see new Pixar film Inside Out, before a spot of shoe shopping.

Jennifer was also seen wearing her wedding band on Saturday, with a source telling People that the pair have decided to keep wearing the rings for their children.

'[They] are a big part of why they're still wearing [the rings]...they just want them to be okay,' said the insider.

The website added that as Jennifer films in Atlanta with their three children in tow, Ben 'plans to be there with them as much as he can.'

While Ben has flown to Atlanta to be with his children, the family's former nanny Christine Ouzounian, who has been at the centre of a media firestorm over whether of not she and Ben are having an affair, was spotted relaxing at the luxurious Hotel Bel Air in Los Angeles.

A source told People Wednesday that Ben 'is taking care of Christine's expenses at the hotel.'

At this time of year, room rates for one night at the exclusive resort start at around $1,000 on a weekday and $1,500 on a weekend, with fees increasing according to the size of the room or suite.

The hotel is situated on 12 acres of lush gardens and has 58 guestrooms and 45 suites, including seven one-of-a-kind specialty suites.

The 28-year-old was seen working on her tan earlier this week in a tiny black bikini and enjoying drinks at the hotel's poolside bar.

The pretty blonde, who was fired by Jennifer just over a month ago, appeared not to have a care in the world, despite the speculation over her and Ben.

Adding fuel to the fire, photos surfaced this week showing the Gone Girl star warmly welcoming Christine to his LA bachelor pad in a late night rendezvous on July 17.

Reps for Ben continue to deny any affair, saying the claims are 'complete garbage.'

read more:www.marieaustralia.com/cocktail-dresses

www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-melbourne
Sunday Tears,
that is what Sundays are for,
Sunday tears that fall
from my eyes,

Sunday tears
make me want to die,
Sunday tears that break my heart,
that is because we are no more,
Sundays have broken my heart
into parts, because Sundays
have made us depart

Sundays are no longer special to me,
they make me think of you and me,
and that you are not here with me,
I much prefer to Monday morning,
maybe I can get through the week
without weekday tears, but when
Sunday comes again I break down
with Sunday tears.
Aoife Teese Apr 2015
I am my own worst enemy
I am my own bully, my disease,
I only see in mirrors.

The only way to get rid of her is to get rid of me.
The only way to fight back is to fight myself.
the only way to hurt her is to hurt myself.

I drown her out with ***** on weekday nights and weekday mornings I put on my powdered sugar mask and hide from her cruelties and casualties

My body shakes and shivers in the middle of the night and I fight and I fight for something that is better than this
a bad day//incomplete
Tim Knight Oct 2013
I didn’t see the moss at the foot of the white-clad border walls
because I was holding you by the edges,
so to not crease, rip or crinkle you.

The road is always long, but this street
takes the ****. The same trees grow and repeat,
twisting up into great nothings acting as a canopy,
but not quite pulling it off as the rain broke through.

You looked comfortless in my arms, as though you’d
rather be somewhere different in a lot less clothing, and asleep
waking to a familiar ceiling nearer to the weekend than this weekday
in May.

Sometimes, if the wind is right and ushered correctly,
the crane lights of the night highlight that moss
and only those searching will be aware that
it lives at the bottom of a white-clad border wall
just over there.
coffeeshoppoems.com >> visit now for free poetry.
Norbert Tasev Oct 2020
There were many, it was illegal to have a pessimistic weekday, a worn out, useless desk and a climbing Sisyphus ticket: Insufficient - mostly - and sufficient. The crossfire of promising grains of pride, and the pathetic judgment of the Inquisitions lurking in the eyes: “Let's see! Who dares to do more and more ?! ” - There was a murderous rage in the hearts of the people,

"What did I know then: What can I expect?" "Destroyed nervous system, suicidal pessimism?" Nice promises or Janus-faced compromises? In which the victim is always his own scapegoat! "In the conscience of the people, they beat a homestead and strangled it with stigma stamps, handing it to you as the title of loser, as an honor in the camp of innocent fools!"

There were many, it was illegal for the pessimistic weekday, many were the self-destructive consciousness of Nothing: that you would stay that way, but only the Apocalypse-bad guys rushed at me every day; miserable, trampled on, destroyed! If I look back, I can still see it as fooling and humiliating the germs of youth in slavery, the reliable cornerstones of spiritual libraries, because “someone” mentioned the word in defense of imaginative and new ideas! And still, I can only guess: Did I get the magic D-letter document in exchange for the omniscient silence of my silence, or just for the awareness of my sooner liberation ?!
Kagey Sage Jan 2014
Soon I'll be a work day chump
9 hours a day, 1 hour drive
each way
Satisfied the pay's above minimum wage
and I got the weekends free to drink and play

8 hours of impersonal lonely phone calls
next to people unlike me in every way
except how we're all paid
A headset be my cursed crown
I'll forget to take it off
when I leave for lunch downtown

"You're doing this for her."
I'll say to the framed question mark
atop my plastic desk
A future wife, another life
Don't let the exhaustive poison win
We're destined for other places
And darling, you'd leave me here
face it

But, your king is a thrill seeking breadwinner
Who shall conquer fertile forests
abound with cabin mansions, reindeer dinners
and more than 5 hours of weekday waking freedom time
Till then, I just wish I could promise you
I won't lose my mind

— The End —