He stands there sure of what he is and he exposes
An extensive epicentre surrounding him with a glow
A glow that gloats his title that offers him a position
Higher than everyone gathered there dutifully
All was there to watch his presentation that is to follow

He stands there presenting his corporate goals
Saving money ought to be done and cost effectiveness
Essentially actuate value for money. More needs to be done
By less. Efficiency equates higher performance and yields
Yards long of achievements. Jobs needs to be cut to do jobs well

Value for money ought to be vicksed out of the tub
Otherwise there would be mess of mismanagement
We can't afford any such idiopratic outposts in our goals
We ought to therefore make efficiency saving effectively
He pauses and measures the level of attention and focus

He is the moment. He is the inalienable face of the corporate
His post and position are as sure as a solid sole of a shoe
He finished his post presentation proctorial and counts the heads
That ought to go without a blink or blow or a crow
He has made a list and then he prepares to shell the bombs

Having done the jobs he comes back in his domain where
He sees his kingdom doming about towering the sky
He has done the tasks achieved his targets and there it sparkles
The next post promoting him upper with bigger matter and marks
He receives a call to make an appointment to see his Corporate Cool

"Well done, Jackson! Absolute congratulation on an absolutely
Well Absoluted job!" said his Corporate Cool who still fathoms
Under a Bigger shadow on his walls and desk where
Brands appear bigger than him. "There's small matter,"
He coughs and opens his drawers and finds something
And he looks and then he gets up and picks up again:
"Oh, yes, the small matter, oh, yes, I remember,
The board has decided
To incorporate your department with Communications Management."


Mr Jackson's Department was absoluted and therefore he was told
He was after all allotted to slot of expendable where he finds it difficult
To fit in for he has done his job taking others' in his game yet he was
Out and the wind seems to pooh on his face and he has run out
He walks light carrying a heavy weight which his body cannot sustain

Go Up

Thingsomniac we are round the bend of all the clocks
In all the hours they reach and pass beyond to come back
We dutifully stay directly engaged in thingsomniac thoughts
Our things are our images painted in colours of worries and dread

Thingsomnic we are and our thoughts are thoroughly troubled with
Things and their business and administration and statisticscapes
We do not understand people and their unthingsomniac ideas
We do not at all empathise with spacesomniac vocabulary in any fashion

Thingsomniac our dreams always make sounds that are metallic
And we do not understand music that takes our thingsomniac means
For we know how to work and walk in known cosmology of things
We do not like spacesomniac things and ideas that scare us out of our wits

Go Up

In Abernethy Forest You Dawn

Morning looks borrowing cob webs to be its eyes
Silver wet in silence's gaze they smile a white
Calm brilliance just edging out of the wet bushes

The sky seemed forgetful of the opening of the rehearsal
Still asleep and unaware while the cows up and standing
Calves getting the thin liquid through the skin of the udders

The forest with silent trees forming a state of awe
Breathing dew wet fragrances of the night just disappearing
The scent of the earth curling up in wet smoke all asilent

The pitched road sparkles as is black shiny skin of the earth
The playfulness between disappearing dark and appearing lights
Form a solemn eloquence that only proclaims a meditative affair

Bread and butter and the morning papers get us moving
I take the care of the car halfway through feel embarrassed
By the horrid noises the engine let go into the surrounding serenity

I stopped. Never heard the engine before driving to places
Shortening spaces into saving of time and yet there I was
In the car engine switched. Absolutely gob smacked embarrassed

In the Abernethy Forest on an August dawn you dawn on me
As though you were more real and awesome than ever I will be
Acknowledging my folly I allowed the engine to roll again rudely

That is how at Nethybridge Abernethy Forest enters me
The way a mother's kiss travels through piercing a child's skin right in
Finding the heart and makes itself at home without the child realising it

Go Up

In Manhattan Pigeons Know How to Craft a Living

Beneath the sun soaked trees in the shadow puddles
Manhattan pigeons gather life's supple sustenance
By the bay where the Statue of Liberty guards the
Shadows of liberty's ghosts hung in hurried footsteps

We the people busying beyond the power of carrying
Hurrying by the unhurried pigeons in their living
While the sky bound mute brick gods spread statued
Expressions eliminating anything but the façade

Beneath the blue lit sky beyond our means or mode
Life rolls one missing us along the way slowly we
Perish in despair carried in our little bags and hurried hearts
Only pigeons know how to craft a living in shadow puddle green

Go Up

To read more of different kinds of poetry please follow these links

Go Up

uminescence

Offering through yourself silver luminiscence
Lonely you stand by really not at all there
Motion married you at birth bewildered utterly
Fell in love with earth since then offering yourself
Motion bound torching dark with adoration

Go Up

Anna Pavlova or Patrovna

Anna Pavlova probably she is
A Romanian or possibly Polish
That's the way she wears her dress
Of identity at Tamworth Road's crowd
Who like her drink from some sort of
National nutritional jug and think telepathically

Working at an Art Shop she thinks
Olden days that offer warmth in
Distant delights strong enough
While she serves the cold customers
With dry almond face Anna
She loves reading as she tells me
Books that tell her stories- stories of people

Anna Pavlova or Patrovna I don't know
But saw her in silence pondering her dreams
As though one day out of the Art Shop
She will somewhere somehow be a different phoenix
Living a personified life in sunny savannah
Anna Pavlova's dreams may one day wonder us

Go Up

A Refusal
(To Sir Bob Geldoff)

A plea for help from dead fleas
It should have been

Yet it was rather rogue albeit desperate
The Mayor seeks help from the mainland

Help that he requires to enable him
To burry the dire corpses that flooded his shores

Africa floated away clothed in skin coloured dresses
Bones pushing the roof from within hard and cold

Into European designer watered sands
The salted air spread bling bling scents

They drowned themselves out of their lives
Onto the company of water and swam

In their stomachs primal needs kicked
In their eyes they had delicatessen bread flickering

While the cold and salty water annihilated their strength
They remembered faces full of desperate hopes

Tears bade them and drove them to something anything
They remembered those eyes full of arrowed questions

They drowned gasping for air trying to call those names
An ocean that failed to offer a living home till the end

At the end refused stubbornly to be a grave for the dead
"We carry out the business of the fittest," said the waves

Laws of water and things could not fail but follow
The corpses were laid out onto the beaches bare

And the Mayor found himself before the mirror
I wonder what he had seen. I wonder what we would see.

Go Up

Vaview

He wants me to make him laugh
And I wonder how long he has not
Actuated himself before a mirror

She wants me to make her a diva
And I chew sorrow's gum with hard teeth
Thinking a way to say there is no such vaview

They want me to make them win the lotto
And I wish I knew the email address of Santa Clause
Find it hard to swallow the wish as big as the globe

Go Up

A Child Probably was Born of Joy Called Life

The puddle procures the sky in motion
A painting live floating with the touch of waves
A clouded sky with spaced out blue in the wind

Where the top of the building spread
With couple of chimneys stood
A flying crow and a few tops of trees blowing

Wind provides motion on puddles face
A painting floats under waves
Wedding the motion and still in silence

I stood there looking or watching or tasting
The painting or broadcasting of the wedding
A child probably was born of a joy called life

Go Up

To read more of different kinds of poetry please follow these links

Go Up