Random Work Poems (218)

Under a harsh electric glare we wear ourselves out,
While the old lady sings of love, long lost.
Undulating fervour takes us to three,
In the morning, cold now,
you cling to me

granny is sitting in her old rocking chair
the coal fire simmering bright ,puffs of smoke rising up the chimmney
granny sits in her rocking chair
in her granny slippers warming her self by the coal fires light

dark is the room the silences the cold dampness of the chill from the world out side
the black and white tv switched on with its lighted screen white and hissing to be played again

the old cukoo clock on the wall chimes
the passing hours on the hour every hour
breaking the silence all around
granny sits in the darkness rocking to and throw in her favorite
chair

sitting silent not knowing who is there
the poorly dim lite room its darkend old fashiond wall paper falling the decay lying around what a pitfull site to be hold ,the knocking on the windows from outside children playing knock knock
oh what a nouisence they are

granny iqnores them hoping they will go away
thinking of her childhood her youth snathced away, her youth gone for ever,just taken away ,locked in her old age only with
her memories locked inside her mind so no one can see
for shes the only one with the key

he stands amid the dusted rays
of beams from smudged, windowed days
casting light on the words below
pressed flat upon papered page

he's been here since before sun up
stained and smelling of turpentine
surveying the thoughts he's pressed
quickly he hangs the page to dry

then re-inks the typeset laid to table
and inserts another piece to press
pulling at the screw pressed platen
repeating process his labors express

his desire to enlighten the world
not just his neighbors informed to tell
ideas and thoughts carried on back
ancestors haunched with ink and quill

before them criers cried the street
events be known upon lips aloud
spreading ideas throughout the land
difficult to speak beyond the crowd

and unbeknownst to him and kind
someday in future ideas are spread
with something called electricity
through wires and waves on into head

to reach to you my heartfelt soul
ideas with emotions and feelings said
until now, thoughts sweetest aspirations
words spread like jam on slice of bread

words, like feelings toil quietly
carry your touch and feeling along
to distant lands and distant times to
give life's meaning, therefore prolong

what the publisher and writer wish
to convey to all able to read or hear
that thought, like life, is precious
held close at hand, the mind made clear

© Goode Guy 2011-08-09

Empty building
all around
Empty walls
Empty sound
Scarceness
all over here
letting us know
the ECONOMY
has HIT a new
L O W.
POVERTY
Rearing it's
ugly head
causing your
TOWN
to g o
D E A D.
HOPING
PRAYING
that it will
REVIVE
at last not
KNOWING
what is to
be for our
TOWN
ME.
For the
PEOPLE
in this town
want it to
STAY
SOLID
SOUND
They wish for
it to become
a new all
ESTABLISHED
BEAUTIFUL
TOO.

My soul searches often , as my feet start to travel the endless miles they tread. I wonder , I wander , to view what compells me. Insatiable desire , for to journey I must , boundless desire , to quell my wander lust. Faces ,places , they come and fade to dust , grains of sand in my jar , I must fill till it busts , no cure for this wondering , wanderers lust.....

the rig sails on
the captain at the wheel
steel billowed crosswinds
and Willie's gruff twang

come back...maybe not flip-flop
rigs riggin' is sailin', movin'
waving goodbye to yesterday
I'm a stowaway into today

ahead is clear horizon
aft is crewed distant past
the ropes taut, creaking
and diseal's low rumble below

port is where we're headed
starboard is starry shafts
stern relentlessly unappeasable
riding the waves bowed

someday I'll tighten up
swigging the anchor line
laying roots off of route one
but at present, rig's tackin'

we're decked out directly
hauling freight, liners for
what in life we're lackin'
so, harden up to the wind

crestin' hill, descendin' trough
this rollercoaster ride of life
keeps sailin' on to skyline
just the mate 'n' the captain

© agoodguy2have 2011-05-20

Here I am looking at this paper and holding a pen,
trying to think of something to write about again.
But every time I try, I just come up blank,
As if there is nothing life in my think tank.

I use to be good at this, this writing thing,
it use to be I could write about anything.
Now I can barely scribble out a couple lines,
and think about how this is all just a wast of time.

Even now I staring at the clock,
only because I can't think of an original thought.
So I look at the tv and what do I see,
just my reflection looking back at me.

So maybe it's time to give up on this writing thing,
even though I love it more then anything.
Or maybe I'll sit and stare at the clock,
wishing I could get out of this writers block.

Out of nothing
Came the darkness and the light
The Sun by day and the moon by night.

Out of nothing
Came the stars of the sky
'by His word and Knows each one by name.

Out of nothing
He called the things that were not
'As though they were and so they are.

"There is no such thing as nothing
for even nothing is something"

Every day I go to work it gets worse
Always worse
The boss yells at me
I ask why do you yell at me
He says because I like to yell
I work on factory next to criminals
One is on work release for driving drunk
One is on work release for selling crack
One is on work release for selling pot
I do have women working there
One knocked out my coworker for grabbing her
So he wakes up and she quits
Another one look like vampire who wants to bite me on the neck
My boss looks like Saddam Hussain
Did he shave off his mustache and go on Jenny Craig?
The heat and the stress are unbelievable
One guy fell down on the ground from heart attack
Another guy committed suicide
Two other guys died in auto wreck after working seven days a week
For months on end
I ask my coworker who was in Iraq if this place is better
He says to me
I would rather be in Iraq than be here
It is less stressful

I wonder what temperature the CEO of our company has where he works?
Could it be the 500,000 dollars it would take to air condition our work place
Instead goes to his air conditioned office, car, yacht, truck, and swimming pool
Instead of a cool and comfortable temperature, we get Gatorade
I wonder how many factories have similar stories to tell about how hot it is
Or better yet, how many can really say they work in air conditioning
Or have a fan blowing on them at least?
This corporate greed just keeps right on rolling over good people
So a few fat cats can delight in the misery they create
Is is wrong to wish some of that misery back on them?
Of course it is, but I do find myself fantasizing
About what will happen to them when they die
Will they see the light and treat their workers with dignity
Or will they just donate some of their stolen cash to some church?
Is it better to kiss God's large fanny or people down here on planet earth?
I guess tomarrow will answer that question once again!