Last Commented Work Poems (218)

The babe's are in the dark,the door is closed

Light sneaks under the door,the chairs shuffle and then no more

They cuddle up and kiss in fear, of what they know will appear

For years this boy and girl suffered from this HELL!


They come to me from out of there, putrid and in pain

I look at them with empathy and unshown despair

Others judge them with blind disdain

They no nothing of their pain,Oh! these babe's


I don't work alone, such is this complicated mess

The days go by the seasons change,these babe's will never be the same

They are safe now you see, all grown up with family

This is not the end I know,there will be more pain and woe

I am tired and the road ahead seems all so long.
The darkness that surrounds me as I move seems almost like a blanket holding me tight.
But I got to go keep on moving even if my heart knows its not right.
Can't seem to slow down just know I will find what I am looking for.
I close my eyes and the tears they just want to come.
Its hard to live life always on the move.
No one to hold me tight when the day is done.
No imprint on the pillow saying someone's been there.
I don't know if I have in me to really care.
I have been traveling way to long.
Putting off things that most have already done.
I've been on the run.
Looking back it all seems like a blur.
I gave you all I've had to give.
That I forgot to live.
Now I am sitting here. Wondering what next. The future is so unclear.
Just feeling like I want to get out of here.
Take the next plane home.
And stay till this feeling is gone.
I know the difference between a job and a career.
One you give eight hours to and one you give your life.
One day you wake and find your an old maid.
Never had the time to be someone's wife.
No babies have you held that you did not have to give back.
I fear it is to late to change my ways.
And have the things I kept putting off for another day.
I walk in the room I am so composed.
No one knows.
My face a mask so many feelings that I hide.
I know I must continue this ride.
What I dream of is not what is real.
It just don't matter how I really feel.

Verse I

Was doin' good, my eagle flyin' high,
Yeah, doin' good, my eagle flew so high,
Then all at once that well it just ran dry.


Chorus

Can't find no work now, don't know what to do,
There ain't no work, what am I s'posed to do?
Just one more fool to sing these jobless blues.


Verse II

My unemployment lasted for a while,
Yeah, unemployment saved me for a while,
Now it's all gone an' bills are pilin' high.


Verse III

Not on the street but guess it won't be long,
Not homeless yet but can't be very long,
Til landlord say it's time for movin on.


Verse IV

Worked all my life, ain't never been this way,
I've worked so hard, how could it be this way?
With nothin' left to keep the wolves at bay.

At rush hour in any town, people race,
people frown, bloody hell they'd knock
you down, like soldier ants on a quest,
from here to there no time to rest,
catch a bus, catch a train, stand in
line in the rain, bumper to bumper on
the motorway, all work no play, traffic
jam, 4 hour delay, fast movers, slow
takers, lonely hearts and home makers,
a race, a relay, same tomorrow, replay.

On mud-will days when malls about
All shake with trays
A shopper taps the wares
Warily ... lest someone cares

He wakes to the trill
Of a pneumatic drill
Puts on his boots
And climbs the hill

A quiet smoke
A quiet lunch
A quiet bloke
Waiting for the crunch

Oh hello welcome to the morning sun
Snick hug the night with them Light

At the moment all the meanings become whisper
The heart is steeped in the Sea Lance and pleasure

Eye reaction of sacrificed sleep yesterday
There is no doubt and I become Gabrha ?????

Oh hello big that wobble as planting
Zaza is not monkey at the time of Bakur

Welcomed by your spiritual self-aware
The preparation of the grade on the vine bird

What is writing?
A series of coor
dinated muscle move
ments and electric im
pulses acting through mere
utensil comprised of but
wood, plastics, staining
a sheet of average
lined paper. A graphic
representation and
replication of vibra
tions of larnyx from
air forced through
then received in pho
nemes by the ear. Yet
what magic in use
unconsciously that makes
each sentence so unique.
Writing puts down the
words we all speak
so meaning we may
later seek.

I have been alone all my life.
But have never felt lonely till now.
I feel fear of what I do not know?
The air is so thick you could cut it with a knife.
I am supposed to be strong.
A leader.
I know what I have been groomed to be.
But after this long.
I cannot help but to wonder what is to become of me.
I am not the youth I once was. I am the woman you see.
In a job position made for the young.
Where youth is all one expects to see.
To be thought of as old when I feel so young.
Hurts like being stung.
I cannot change what I feel is to come.
But the fear I feel makes me want to run.
To where I do not know.
It is sad when you reach the end.
And nowhere to go.

the day drones on humming like
the monotone of a tuning fork
a clock ticks slow somewhere
that clocks still actually tick
and the afternoon scrapes on
without a grease of a care

let's get to the end of it
i feel so cubed in here behind
drab business fabric walls
that time discretely slices
a million light years apart

contemplate the time and wait
for the workday to terminate
if only for today so i can
release my soul to the air
flying my sonic imagination

high away from procedures
and scintilla of policies
through canyons of colors
to rise like leavened bread
and grow into something holy

there is much of life's water
slipping past my boat, spoons,
buckets, oceans of life, of days
with names that i don't know
that somehow feel my presence

i run to the ramparts of the day
jump over the stones and flee
a spirited dash to the forest
my chains clanking in the dirt
a melodious tinkling sound

© agoodguy2have 2010-04-23

the container sits on a dock portside
just waiting to be taken for a ride

I always try to think inside the box
what's there, bound where, be lamps or locks

commerce of manufacture from nation to nation
a whole community's labors creation

sits in steel boxes stacked six high
multi-colored presents for people to buy

the container ship sinks lower in the port
as the boxed goods are stacked of every sort

green boxes, blue boxes, yellow and red
electronics, wheels, maybe cheese spread

from my neighborhood to yours and back
then onto a truck or maybe train track

stuff circles the globe every day of the year
on container ships bound for some faraway pier

eventually boxes are stacked in some store
and people buy things from your distant shore

the global economy keeps spinning around
as nation to nation we are all bound

© agoodguy2have 2010-04-26