Long day indentured college
do they give me land when I'm done?
I just wanna lay near the flickering warm television
like the olde days
Stop, I say
it’s all ****. T.V. does not console
old days are through
already 8 O’ clock
O clock, zero clock
why’d I do nothing yet?
he shouts back in olde English binary that
I’ve only been home for an hour
I don’t know how to loot time like a lawyer’s tie tier
He pit pats after the one in the pricier suit to make sure he’s comfy, all ways
Like a tea cup dog, he’s slightly enamored to serve a taller person
The rich man feeds him emerald colored paper
a treat at sundown,
and that wily servant still finds hours to ***** his wife,
push his boy on the swings, and play a game of basketball.
I don’t know what’s coddle comfort anymore
“good.” says the gray bearded one atop the devil’s mountain horns
The great beast is boastfully clever,
but he can’t tell there’s a bhikhu camping out on his horns
his eyes roll upward, but he can’t see past his forehead.
The old one laughs

The clocks are quickly ticking, rushing me further onward,
Yet nothing really seems to change aboard this grand train.
The starting station is long a forgotten sight from afar,
As a million only well-dressed people shut the curtain to hunt a star.

No things will halt The Times today, or our most important endeavours
Five down is completed now and – I stumble! (the train’s slowing judders)
Christ, my leg! – it’s filthy down here…. And I find suddenly there's no time for care  
Glancing through the compartment door – no: I’m transfixed, and I stare

Goodness. A gracious bombardment of purest light,
Crystalline, through the porthole’s grime.
Refracting into purples, and blues, and yellow sights!
So this is how beauty blossoms, allowed time.

Suits, ties, over-priced liquidised decadence
Are overcome, barely visible, amidst her the flower’s resonance
And blissfully reducing my colleagues to uttering, babbling nonsense
Until I hear the gunshot crack

The wheels regain motion
Re-shredding morals to smithereens
Though I cry, desperate to see her through bloodshot eyes
She’s left me only dark red puddles though the doorway

So this New Boy just graduated
from The Top University and Full Honors
and all that jazz and the Right Degrees
(none of the arts and philosophy and poetry
and all that crap)
walks into Supreme Office
for his interview
and the HR and PR and Admin and the CEO
and the SR and the RR and DDR and the RRRR
(don’t ask me what they are – they just are  rrrrrr)
and so the CEO asks our Golden Child Prodigy:
“You got all the top degrees and qualifications
You’re the brightest mind just out of University –
what’d do you expect for pay here at Supreme Office
if you make it to a chair and table?”

“A pay that will put $100K in my pocket
to take home the first year, and it will be more
each passing year”

“What about,” says the CEO, with that cold smile
that matches the Golden Boy’s enamel smile
“if I said we offer you above that
and a month’s paid leave, a secretary
and a room all to yourself and chauffer-driven car
even in the weekends
and all medical, insurance
dental and tropical vacations all paid for?
What’d do you say?”

“You’re kidding, right?” says Bright Kid Business Mozart
with that rising-star lean and sneer


“Of course I am,” says the CEO
*“But don’t blame me for the joke – you started it…”