Thursday, April 23, 2009

Poem of the day 04.23.09

so i've been doing a lot of fiction lately, and haven't gotten up to typing some of the poems. so i return to the vault. i'm being thematic today. times are hard and people are losing jobs and such. so, here are a few poems about work.

ten minute poem

written on a break
an earth shattering poem
when i don’t even have
the time to think.

will the bossman allow it?
he’s keeping my time as i

but back to it.
not even an idea to cultivate,
a small plot for my

and oh, how my feet
stop hurting
and my back aches
the mundane conversation of
the break room
demoralizing me.

bills and kids and booze
and booze and kids and bills
blah blah blah
until i can’t take it.

i have murderous thoughts
these waning moments,
i envision my death
and yours

such sweet justice
don’t you think?

just the two of us
lopped off and sent to
our final peace
a murder/suicide pact at work.
the new American ingenuity
everyone will be doing it.

imagine that!
thousands and thousands of
workers and bosses
moving slowly through heaven.
pretty soon they’ll be a break room
next to the pearly gates
and an automated time clock
or a boss
watching how much time I take.


beyond punching out

after work
in the 6pm rain
eating this waxy bologna sandwich
as people pass by
having dumb conversations

pretentious, ugly sommeliers
w/cow hides for coats
or the standard, fat buffalo
arian family, yapping loudly
arguing over a fast food

i am eating an apple
sucking its juice because
i am thirsty and have no water
sore and tired
i am almost at my wits
today might be the day
where i jump into traffic
on delaware avenue
and give up the game for good.

despite these suicidal thoughts
this early evening madness
and gloomy
it is still better to be hungry and
in the autumn rain
work one more
fucking minute
for you.


from the office to the bar
(a love poem)

i go from one building
to another
one seat
to the next.
they’re really no different,
except one of them has
my soul
and the other one has
my mind.
don’t worry dear, you still have
my heart.
but what’s left for me
in all of this?
the bar tab?


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