my boss asked me
to have a coffee chat
with the new girl.

talked about goals,
progression,
settling in —
it was the kind
that made me proud
for having
such a great team.

two hours later,
she quit.

It is a burden to have and a privilege to hold
A do or die and a lifelong dream
Necessity plaguing mankind
And those without the sickness will die
Solemn are those hours that fill the vacancies
Of your blood is borrowed joy
Encompass the type and sip
With that tagged silver spoon.

When miracles were given away,
It's found that there weren't them for me.
Maybe they didn't put down me in list
Or I forgot to join a queue, you see?

Maybe I got on a shift turnover.
Wizardry's also a job, hearsay,
With lunches, holidays and days off surely.
There're no fools to work the whole days.

Well, I guess I'll have to wait.
I'm a human. I know what's what.
I'll scroop by myself. I'll be patient.
I'll do my best. I hope I would.

3 alarms to waken you from your sleep coma each morning
Get ready for the day with extra time to ****, then head to that job against your will

8 hours of employment each day, reminding yourself that paycheck to push you through

5 days a week to be that friendly camper with a big smile on their face, one because you have no choice, and two your thinking about home time


3 hours of sleep and 3 alarm clocks

At least you're getting that paycheck.

By Abpoetry


Better know it,
Better believe it,
Its really coming,
There is no running,

Roses bloom , no more,
And the fruits kept sacred,
Mason jars less broken,
Evils comes , you better scope it,

Pleasing other people,
will not get you anywhere,
protecting your energy,
Fake as extincting bears,

Proven the innocence,
Some work 12 jobs and ****,
Take time to find yourself,
To be the best and ****..

a monkey
******
the art of kurt Cobain NOT  the music,  the Quay brothers inspired  paintings.

****** was a painter and pretty good at it too, better than most.
  A ***** perfectly sculpted  to have  the face of Bill Clinton.
Perfectly him.
So disturbing yet not at all.

The ******* ******* fake artist Jackson Pollack , (please don't ******* tell me about innovation. Any idiot can sling paint ). and his lame *** drug addled hillbilly cousin Andy the **** whit Warhol. Complete **** con man. ****  ***** and slime all the way through. Corporate repetition, not even imaginative. Not even original or innovative.
My opinion of art matters about as  much to  me  as mine does to you.;
  The difference is  I know better.
I produce and  I  am    better'
I don't see light and shadow and texture like you.
  I don't interpret  notes measures  tones and chords  like you.
I sculpt.  I compose. I perform.  Do I seem scared or ashamed ?
Why should  I be?

  I don't think and feel like  you,  thank god .
  Yeah, yeah we are all beautiful unique  ****** snow flakes  and all that      horse ****...
but are we?

Ever wonder how beautiful Ed Gein  really was?
A belt of human ******* . I'm assuming female.
Breast and  **** cheeks turned into lampshades. Coverings of chairs and. Bone creations.
Ever hear the one about that poor little girl who her drug abusing alcoholic idiot? Self lobotomized parents didn't want or need her, so they made her live outside. They treated her like a dog and they made her sleep with the dogs they didn't even care. They literally fed her scraps. The fact that this was allowed to happen or did actually happen. When the authorities came. Took her away. She couldn't speak. She didn't want to walk upright. She growled and snarled and sniffed for years. So what is my point?

Is it nature or is it nurture?
Are we all truly unique and beautiful?
Are we all snowflakes?
What if some of  us shine just a little bit brighter than the rest?
Or if some don't shine at all. What if they pull in light like an abyss? What if they are  darkness itself?
When we let the floodgates be completely open. So that we call anything and everything art. Who gets to judge? What does the judgment even mean if it's all just subjective?
How far am I really actually supposed to respect your opinion?
A monkey.
Or two.
******.

I just want to be outside...all day.
Well, from 4 to 2 Monday thru Friday.
I just want to feel some pride.
Where whatever it takes is right.

I wish there was a place.
Trying my hardest, wasn't a waist.
Where I can learn from mistakes.
Without fear of shame.

To throw myself into whole.
Be glad to leave a bit of my soul.
To net a livable wage.
To live to buy and to save.

To have something to look forward to.
This is my wish I wish would come true.
It used to exist, but now just eludes.
I just want a job I want to go to.
A.R.M.