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Brandon Conway Sep 2018
Mr. Piano Man how your
fingers rain down on the keys
dancing a somber ballet
capturing the feeling of being empty
like those bottles underneath

Here Mr. Piano Man
the next drink is on me
while we sift through debris
of our melancholy

Every note stings
every chord bleeds
woe is you
and
woe is me
play
Mr. Piano Man
a song to our ennui

Let it rain Mr. Piano Man
let the storm hammer the strings
lets swim in the puddle
of whats spilt underneath

Oh Mr. Piano Man
What is that I hear?
That note that was just hit
it sounded rather queer
there is no room for happiness
at the bottom of this beer

No! NO! Mr. Piano Man
I don't want the sun
go back to stormy waters
to where you had begun

I thought you a friend
I thought we allies
I thought we understood
the sounds of demise

Mr. Piano Man how you so betrayed
with your songs of love and spring
every note my heart aches
every chord a bee sting

Mr. Piano Man this is my goodbye
I am leaving you now
please don't cry
I am going to my new friend
Mr. Bartender
How do you do?
Give me an endless bottle
and another drunk to talk to.
Brandon Conway Aug 2018
Life is a record scratch
a record scratch
a record scratch
a record scratch
a record scratch
a record scratch
Until the needle is lifted
and moved somewhere new
Brandon Conway Jul 2018
Alarm blaring
Early morning
Hit the snooze again
Rush to get ready
Dread
Dread
Dread
Dread
Dread
Dread

Filling up a cup
At the water cooler
In a dreary office
Starts to overflow
Drip
Drip
Drip
Drip
Drip
Drip

Pour the coffee
Add the sugar
Add the cream
Stir
Stir
Stir
Stir
Stir
Stir

Sit at the desk
Power the laptop
Open outlook
Stare
Stare
Stare
Stare
Stare
Stare

These little moments
Start to last longer
Is this me trying to escape
This surfeited place?
Dream
Dream
Dream
Dream
Dream
Dream
Lucius Furius Jul 2018
J. Alfred, I'm sick of your whining --
get off your **** and do something!
Yes, I know life is meaningless.
I know you've got a lot of time on your hands.
Of course, tea parties can be boring.
But let me just ask here: "Is someone making you do this?
Is someone making you hang out with these cold, scornful
   women?"
Surely a guy like you could find someone to relate to. It's
    not that hard.

No, you're not Prince Hamlet --
and you're not an attendant lord either.
You're J. Alfred Prufrock!
Eat a peach, for-God's-sake!
Talk to the mermaids!
Just do it!

<Note: It's useful to think of Whoopi Goldberg as the speaker.>
Hear Lucius/Jerry read the poem:  humanist-art.org/old-site/audio/SoF_039_prufrock.MP3 .
This poem is part of the Scraps of Faith collection of poems ( https://humanist-art.org/scrapsoffaith.htm )
Brandon Conway Jun 2018
A rapacious hand that collects
Often begets
Vanity
Envy
And
Ennui
Brandon Conway Jun 2018
The garden would not take root
Hardly a **** could flourish
No matter how much water absorbed
This muddy field left malnourished

Something was amiss in this mucky space
Ennui entwined climbing up the spine
Hippocampus left asphyxiated
The kudzu of the mind

Nothing but an entanglement of
Thought and emotion
Strangling the heart
In this confusing ocean
Brandon Conway Jun 2018
Loving
Excited
Joyful
Happy
Good
Smiling
Life
Frowning
Fine
Lying
Ennui
Melancholy
Forlorn
Death
Smiling
­Good
Happy
Joyful
Excited
Loved I hope.
Brandon Conway Jun 2018
The snooze button
My morning companion
Why wake early
When you can delay ennui
For just a moment longer
Ten minute dreams
That seem to last
A lifetime until
It's too late

Hurry to work
The chair you hate
Hurry to work
The screen that stares
Hurry to work
Where no one cares
Hurry to work
The sooner to despair

Surrounded by walls that blind
The morning star
Surrounded by people who
Worship cupidity
Maybe I do too
That's why I am here
Brandon Conway Jun 2018
As I mope around the swamps of my brain
I think of nature’s beautiful scenery
Stuck in a world where currency reigns
Littered with mankind's rapacious factitious imagery

Sat in a cube, walls off-white
Ceiling tiles, **** stained
Trapped in ennui's plight
Blue light keeping a soul maimed

But there's a cure
Just beyond these walls
5pm, till then I endure
Then I can answer Edens call
Stuck in the frozen depths of hell of off-white walls filled with a cubical garden. Not the garden I want to grow.
Snehith Kumbla Dec 2017
Who looks up at the
Buxom moon?
The city is drowned
In its own grimness.
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