Tuesday, June 28, 2011

10 Poems Written in an Office

1    Slow day
2    I’m a dirty desk whore
3    She sits across from me
4    One day I will get found out
5    I hate that laugh
6    Poker Face
7    What is wrong with people?
8    Little shiny circles with numbers on them
9    I will wait (I’m a follower)
10    And he lost the plot

Slow day

Looking out the window
Skyscrapers scrape the sky

Looking back at my computer
Because I have to
God knows why

Looking at my watch
Time is flying by
Slow as a virgin moves his hand up his first date’s thigh

I’m a dirty desk whore

I’m at work and I’m bored
I’m sucking off pens and highlighters
I’m a dirty desk whore
I’m going down on the typewriter

No STD’s
Just carpal tunnel syndrome
Addicted to tea and coffee
Instead of crack and heroin

It’s still soul destroying
And I can’t do it forever
At least sex workers get paid more
And their drugs are better…   

She sits across from me

She sits across from me
Our eyes do that old-fashioned slow dance of avoidance
There is an awkward guilt
We once did something we shouldn’t have

We don’t talk
Words are a bad idea
And won’t achieve anything
Silence is more honest for now

No words but
I can hear her humming
A pretty sound
But I don’t want to hear it

A few more hours
And I can leave work
I’m waiting for 5 o’clock
Like born-again Christians wait for the rapture   

One day I will get found out

Office work is like
A constant battle
To pretend that
The pieces of paper that you shuffle
Are important.

One day I will get found out
And the gig will be up.
My downfall grows nearer every day.
There is already suspicion in the air.
I need to learn to play the game better
To bluff and play my hand properly.

Perhaps I should stop writing procrastinating verses
And start rearranging the paper
On my desk?

Or not.

I think not.   

I hate that laugh

Would you please, please shut up?

I hate that fucking laugh, woman.

Your nervous, nasal braying
Is betraying you!

I hear the desperation and madness in your chuckle.

So for your own good you might as well

Shut up.   

Poker Face

All I have is what I’ve been given

I’ve been given plenty but
Today I’ve been driven

To abject boredom
By the prison..

Ugh, I mean the office
That I work in

They give me paper and raw data
To transpose to different mediums
I try to care
But I can’t bear it
Ugh, The tyranny of tedium

Even as I write this I’m boring myself
So I apologise in advance

At least these verses
Written in stealth

Give my poker face
A gamblers chance.   

What is wrong with people?

What is wrong with people?
That’s not rhetorical.
I want an answer.

If I pick the three nearest people
To my person
I’ll get the answer faster.

There’s a 33 year old woman
Married to a man she doesn’t love.

There’s a slightly younger female
Who never talks and
Has a nervous laugh.

There’s a middle-aged manager
Who spends the entire day
Reading the news.

And periodically ventures out of his office
To share his freshly stolen views.

What is wrong with people?
There’s no answer that’s sufficient.

What isn’t wrong with people?
My next schadenfreudian fact-finding mission.   

Little shiny circles with numbers on them

Coins, coins, coins are just

Little shiny circles with numbers on them
Different colours and weights and
Pictures on them

Trying their best not to look smug

It’s funny

Little bits of metal
When put together
In suitable arrangements

Can buy everything but love

And sometimes even that
If you’re in the wrong place at the right time!

I found a dollar coin down the back of my lounge
One Sunday afternoon when I was cleaning
I put it in the cup that houses all my loose change

When the cup is full I will go to the bank
and exchange the coins for some notes

The dollar that I found will be part of something bigger now
But only when I buy a new TV or stereo or IPod…
Only then
Will that dollar have realised its destiny   

I will wait (I’m a follower)

I know there is somewhere else
Where I should be

I know this because

The place where I exist presently
Does not particularly appeal to me

Although perhaps one day, maybe
The place I am in will grow to be

Precisely the place I want to be
The idea’s both fanciful and lazy

But I’ll close my eyes and see
I will wait, that’s my strategy

I will wait by going nowhere

I’m a follower you see.   

And he lost the plot

He says
‘I’m very easily led’
In a way that would lead you to believe that he isn’t
Although he actually is

Funnily enough he actually is

‘Free I am and free you aren’t
All the things I do you cant
Where you end is where I start
Lament on this if you will’

He heard this voice in his head all the time
And he never found out who it was
And it weighed so heavy on his mind
That his mind collapsed and he lost the plot

But everyone else would be alright

Just get up when you hear the alarm


Rise and shine

All those dirty things you own, that hide in dark corners, take them out and then

Rise and shine

All those things you hide when the company arrives
Dust them off and

Rise and shine

Or prepare for decline 

By dumbbaby
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