Droning

Meaningless meetings hold me back
from realizing dreams
from getting on track

I’m tearing at the seams.

 

Red tape, white lies, beige fate.
Blue carpet, still time, limits set.
Black coffee, no escape.

Radio DJ drivel, backyard ambition.

 

What do you want out of life?

 

Reality TV and team building exercises.
False CVs and strategic exclusion.

Take me from my soul
Take me from my wife.

Boring meetings boring into my head
moving forward to nowhere

Wanting to be somewhere else instead.

 

Wanting to be free, healthy and fair.

Goodbye, Copper

Hello, readers.

Thanks again for viewing my work and all of the likes and great comments I’ve had on it so far. I will be adding a new, exciting portion to this blog that I hope all of you enjoy, as well.

But right now I want to share something a little sad. Recently, my parents had to put their dog down. He was a beautiful coonhound/bloodhound mix and a super affectionate, loving dog. Unfortunately, he was also an anxious and scared dog, which caused him to bite people unexpectedly, myself included. I was incredibly sad not only for his loss but also for the loss of all of the joy and companionship that he gave my parents, who now live alone. I hope that you enjoy this poem, and I hope it expresses how I feel adequately. My plan is to revise and edit this in the future but knew it was important to get my feelings out.

Thank you,

Ben Charles

 

Goodbye, Copper

by Ben Charles

I remember the day I first saw you
peeking to the open fields on my iPhone screen.
You were in my father’s arms, full of wonder, content in his plaid jacket.
You were mischievous and devious and new to life,
impatient to unravel the mysteries of all you could see.

Tiny and nimble, you tore the world asunder.
You had new friends to make, new foods to eat and a coffee can that always needed a thrashing.
You were sweet, you gave love and were loved to bits, even when you spazzed and threw fits.

“Cute little bastard, isn’t he?” My brother asked at the Christmas party.
He was right, but you cared hardly.
You had a village of a family, a belly full of junk, and a heart full of joy.
My eldest brother mourns you the most, you were his entire world.
I smile remembering the days he’d bring you fast food and toys,
you had him wrapped around your paw, he knew it and he didn’t care.
He told me he has nothing to look forward to at home, now that you’re not there.

I wish I could have saved you, and please know that I tried.
I wish I could have told you how serious biting is, that you could understand.
The seeds of doubt were planted when you bit my hand.
Then you bit the drunkard and my mother cried.

Anxious and afraid, you chased ghosts and delusions.
While the townspeople whispered rumours, theories and illusions.
Some were true, most were false.
I loved how happy my parents were to have you,
their decision was not on impulse.

Do not be anxious, do not be afraid of where you lie.
When my mother went through with it, she cried and she cried.
I will always remember you, Copper. You left imprints in my heart and on my hand.
I hope that you find the peace that you never had in life.
I hope that is an end to your suffering and strife.

Goodbye, Copper.

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This Is Painful

Impatient hunger pangs¬†strike- it’s the early afternoon.
Another meeting now, they’ve all been different and they’re all the same.

What would the board say? Can you read this month’s sales promotion? Did we file that insurance claim?

Noble words of changing lives and changing the world.
These come from the mouths of those sitting on a floor or in a comfy office chair.

WE CAN LIGHT THE WORLD AFIRE!

But first, we need to review the protocol that we must follow.
Remember your name-tag and remember your uniform.
Those in navy blue shorts have no place in our black pants norm.

Empty words of emptier actions,
Followed of course by self- congratulations.
High-fives.
Back-pats.
Middle-management shout-outs, a place of no doubts.
The inability to see this masturbatory procrastination.

Procrastorbation.

I don’t need a shout out, I NEED TO SHOUT OUT!
Thousands of pounds of pressure constrict my vibrating frame,
like the depths of the Ocean on one of Jacques Cousteau’s vessels.

This was written during one of these meetings.
I have to do something productive.
Leaving and never attending again is becoming more seductive.

But I’m polite- I never take my¬†phone in, otherwise, I would text.
I only survive through daydreams of food, beer, and sex.