Tag Archives: Poetry corner

Poetry Corner: “Immigration to Canada (prior to the Muslim surge) the land of milk and honey”

Immigration to Canada the land of milk and honey Perpetual poverty exacerbated by violencebaked red necked existence in the sunon your own soil if fortunatealways a step above landless peasantry even if technically a kulakreceiving the self contempt sentence of lifeworse seeing your children condemned to the samesweat soaked undershirts, cracked nails and donkey brayinginContinue reading “Poetry Corner: “Immigration to Canada (prior to the Muslim surge) the land of milk and honey””

Poetry Corner: “Slime in the back lanes”

Slime in the back lanes Greasy bacon hairedworm rotted popularity on suburban to downtown busestoothless and reeking of body odourscabbed hands red from the opedial clasp of sherry bottlesdecorated by black claws that must not touchFleeing refugees from a napalmed society?victims of hedonistic failure? All depends on the current need for the heroes of miseryandContinue reading “Poetry Corner: “Slime in the back lanes””

Poetry Corner: “Apologies to our Canadian Inuit”

Apologies to our Canadian Inuit Necessary victims of freeze driedThe white ice of deadly blue progressno harpoon redresstrust only hastened the inevitableamongst mineral rights and the sovereignand commercial Arctic Venturesspouted from dollared denturesfishing guides for the sub 49erssearching for Charpresents of sealskin dollsfabricated at venerialized encampmentsfoistered by fiats of ministerial hackswhite sympathy or arrogancetempered byContinue reading “Poetry Corner: “Apologies to our Canadian Inuit””

Poetry Corner: “In the interests of productive behaviour”

In the interests of productive behaviour Motivationgoalsgroup dynamicsprofit sharingjob satisfactiontasty tidbits to woo the working classbribery for the belligerentsoothed with technocratic brewspsychological trickeryblessed in the holy catacombs of management classeswhere ambitious wear Hugo Boss socks (as they can’t yet afford his suits)grovel at the swill buckets of swindled social mobilityfed by Harvard Business School priestssacrosantlyContinue reading “Poetry Corner: “In the interests of productive behaviour””

Poetry Corner: “Evening Management Classes”

Evening Management Classes greedy grasping suburban sniffersassemble after workhaunted by prospects of lower class bluesfired by ambitious dreamsontological drama forgottenin the dance of dollarsthe future of the senior management teamshines like the star of Bethlehem Steelclamouring to absorb the techniques of worker manipulationand win that VOLVO XC 90respect, dignitywholesome men and women of the communitynotContinue reading “Poetry Corner: “Evening Management Classes””

Poetry Corner: “Woes of the protesting Protestant grave searcher

Woes of the protesting Protestant grave searcher Journey to find father cremated in 64soon lostamongst 14,867 interned Catholicssome snickering avenging certain historical lossesa gateand the wrong cometary obfuscate the search Robert K. Stephen

Poetry Corner: Frustration of a Poet…..”

Frustration of a Poet who in a narcissistic moment might join an advertising agency Is the poet’s gross national productlimited to 87 poemsand from that point on clever loquaciousnesswhich for all concernedmight better have remained as crumpled balls of paper Robert K. Stephen

Poetry Corner: “The Job Interview”

The Job Interview Yelps and barks of circus sealstenuously balancing sparkling ballsadequatelybutnot dangerously ostentatiousdon’t ruffle the placid masteryour audiencebut thendon’t underplayeven thoughregulations and conventionsdictate a certain humilitystatutory interpretation on the trapeze actthe tumble can be wickedreturn to delaying promises and optionsprudently promisedoptionally falsefor the survival of the dream bureaucracydepends on that illusionand the salaries ofContinue reading “Poetry Corner: “The Job Interview””

Poetry Corner: “Too many apples and grapes later”

Too many apples and grapes later A gaspthunderous deafening roarburning acrid gashot molten lavaslides down the precipice A sigh like the spring windand the disaster is sucked down into the bowels of the earth onlythe warm human smell remains Robert K. Stephen