Quotes about lobby, page 7
The hireling
Applications are being waited on
for the position of mercenary
or now rather security consultant
to with and for the Americans
help to make
Afghanistan and Iraq tame.
Jannie from bush war
and Angola fame
applies to go
and he is selected
with a group of special soldiers
that stand separate from the others smoking
who can parachute
and take life
in diverse ways
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poem by Gert Strydom
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A set back
I was shown displeasure
I was unable to decide it for sure
It was cutting me from within
It was clear set back and no win
I could see clear partiality
There was no outstanding quality
I could only lament and feel pity
I still tried very hard to have amity
It does happen in all the spheres
No walk of life is spared from this fear
It saddens the people for alight provocation
It creates bitterness and gives clear indication
One may opt out if he or she is clever enough
We all err at certain level and fall through
No one can act tough and at the same time rough
We are sentimental and not made of such stuff
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poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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on Valentine's Day
Hi sweetie pie so divine
Your beauty is so refined
The day has come to define
You’re my lucrative Valentine
The roses for you are not for any woman
It’s the roses grown from Eden
Our ties are not sudden
We’re closer to heaven
Looking at my bedroom’s wall
I see your ever sweet face there
I smile and take a fall
Your love for me to spare
A walking distance, I walk
To the Gifts’ Shop, I step in
I sigh and take a knock
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poem by Sulaiman Mohd Yusof
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My Apartment.
My apartment she said is not
That big and not in a state I’d
Like you to see but give me
Time and I’ll tidy it up and put
Away the books and papers
Scattered over the floor and table
And put all my clothes and smalls
Away and hey open up the windows
To let in fresh air to let out the smell
Of cigarettes and the cat I keep after
Finding it by the trash and it looked
So sad and unkempt and you said sure
Whenever you like wondering what
She did all day while not out at work
And if she kept the cat in bed with her
And had cat’s hairs everywhere and
How could she live in that untidiness
And come to think of it she did have
That catty smell when you stood next
To her in the lobby and yet you couldn’t
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poem by Terry Collett
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Tax Breaks for the Rich
Jobs have been shipped overseas! Who do you think has shipped them overseas? The worker, the poor, the middleclass? No! The super rich that want to maximize their profits with cheap labor and low environmental standards. They then with lobby dollars and shills in government keep these products manufactured outside the USA coming into the USA with low tariffs in stores like Wallmart etc which undermine more USA manufacturing jobs. These are the rich that this new bill would give tax breaks too. These affluent fat cats get a tax break that not only doesn't invest in the USA economy but rob it! These ultra rich want the USA to borrow money from China while millions are laid off by a false trickle down economic policy that has utterly failed. They want their tax breaks going on our childrens childrens back and tell us they only want to spend money they pay for! LIARS! The congress in the hands of big money needs statesmen that fight for the middle class. Keep yourself informed and realize what these politicians do affect all of us and the world. See through the phony TAX BREAKS for the rich while extending unemployment benefits for the down trodden and giving more tax incentives to the middle class that truly spends its money to survive on a daily basis and stimulate the economy in a real way. Working people are not the ones moving the companies. Joe - resist these evil men and policies
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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Three Nights In One Room
In the corners of my memory its nothing but silence that I hear
I am searching for visions of you afraid they've disappeared
Like the sun illuminates the edges behind a storm cloud
I'm still harboring thoughts of you - remaining unbowed
There are times I just want to give up on your existence
But you're out there I just have to eliminate the distance
I have been searching for you looking at hundreds of faces
But you have disappeared completely not leaving any traces
Recalling the three nights we have spent in this one room
We were pretending that it was nothing like wearing a costume
You know nothing of me not even my location or my name
Evidence has been destroyed and I have nothing to reclaim
You are the only one that captured my heart in one take
And today I know that letting you go was a huge mistake
They've said that you postponed your flight and returned
Arriving again in the lobby you had just left I learned
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poem by Kristina Louisa Carr
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A Week Later
A week later, I said to a friend: I don't
think I could ever write about it.
Maybe in a year I could write something.
There is something in me maybe someday
to be written; now it is folded, and folded,
and folded, like a note in school. And in my dream
someone was playing jacks, and in the air there was a
huge, thrown, tilted jack
on fire. And when I woke up, I found myself
counting the days since I had last seen
my husband-only two years, and some weeks,
and hours. We had signed the papers and come down to the
ground floor of the Chrysler Building,
the intact beauty of its lobby around us
like a king's tomb, on the ceiling the little
painted plane, in the mural, flying. And it
entered my strictured heart, this morning,
slightly, shyly as if warily,
untamed, a greater sense of the sweetness
and plenty of his ongoing life,
[...] Read more
poem by Sharon Olds
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Shitty Kitty City
There's a lobby by my study where my visitors may enter
which, since we got the kittens, has a dirtbox at the centre.
They're still too young to go outside, that's why I ask for pity:
they've turned my quiet oasis into Shitty Kitty City.
Pity, pity, isn't it a pity?
They've turned my quiet oasis into Shitty Kitty City.
Their mother trained them very well to go into the tray.
They do their stuff and cover it - that's fair enough, you say;
but litter gets flicked everywhere, so underfoot is gritty:
you need your wellies on indoors for Shitty Kitty City.
Pity, pity, isn't it a pity?
You need your wellies on indoors for Shitty Kitty City.
Mind the crap... Mind the crap... Stand clear of the turds, please.
I scoop the jobbies off the floor: the cats think I collect 'em,
so each one keeps on squeezing me a present from its rectum.
There's steaming heaps all over, and it isn't smelling pretty -
it's best to wear a gasmask when in Shitty Kitty City.
[...] Read more
poem by Wild Bill Balding
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Draw The Curtain, Turn The Page...Close The Day...
Clear th' Stage
Draw th' Curtain
Down th' Lights
Turn th' page
Close th' Day
Ther' be nothing in this World to help me understand
Some shapes of Life that cast-out imperious shadows
Saw black crows, wings stretched...pointing skyward
Perched upon a gangly autumn tree branch......dying
Seven crow's, alas, but one was just a strange illusion
Leaving six, th' number etched upon Abbadons Beast
Watch a clock upon its wall...moves like snail on sand
Look away to savor life.....Time beats like Arrhythmia
An' what would you like to see in stone as yo'r epitaph
A Poet....A Muse.....or perhaps just a Soul of Gratitude
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poem by Frank James Ryan Jr.
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Rain After a Vaudeville Show
The last pose flickered, failed. The screen's dead white
Glared in a sudden flooding of harsh light
Stabbing the eyes; and as I stumbled out
The curtain rose. A fat girl with a pout
And legs like hams, began to sing "His Mother".
Gusts of bad air rose in a choking smother;
Smoke, the wet steam of clothes, the stench of plush,
Powder, cheap perfume, mingled in a rush.
I stepped into the lobby -- and stood still
Struck dumb by sudden beauty, body and will.
Cleanness and rapture -- excellence made plain --
The storming, thrashing arrows of the rain!
Pouring and dripping on the roofs and rods,
Smelling of woods and hills and fresh-turned sods,
Black on the sidewalks, gray in the far sky,
Crashing on thirsty panes, on gutters dry,
Hurrying the crowd to shelter, making fair
The streets, the houses, and the heat-soaked air, --
Merciful, holy, charging, sweeping, flashing,
It smote the soul with a most iron clashing! . . .
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poem by Stephen Vincent Benet
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