#work poem

[env0writes]

Juniper Journal’s Vol. 2, 6.25.24 “Waiting Over and Over Again"

@env0writes C.Buck   Ko-Fi & Venmo: @Zenv0 Support Your Local Artists!   Photo by @env0

Waiting, wasting Copy-pasting the same sentence Over again, over again Over again Ad nauseum sick of, marketing– Causing a racket – racketeering Profiteering off the masses Say “Messiah” in the message –not a missive will be missed Holey are the records and the relics And once over’d again are the workers Wasting up and down for food For thought, so we thought Fought for the day Ad hominen, Homo Sapien Homunculus work-from-home In the eucre-rest past-five o’clock Rest, for the west never sleeps Never weeps for its followers Devout in their labour, their eyes On their neighbor Wishing over again, over again Over again How they wish they were where Over where the grass is The glass ceiling is Greener, a little less meaner Where they’re seen or heard apart from – The herd Over again wishing Time is over, again Looking, crooking, hooking their bit of green Wishing for someone else’s world Where they’ll be where the grass is greener Than the verdant dance-trance of their own plants Greener than farther fall and fallacies Scribbled for their future plans Copy-pasted Over again, over again Over, again

[bonemeadows]

the sky opaline and furled wide over the water, the light gauzy with fog, here where the crows brought wefts of it in and snagged it on the treetops, and the wind brings the warp and weaves a soft blanket above.

[ponderingpicayunity]

No. 20

Netflix. Alcohol.

What a time to be alive!

Late for work again.

[env0writes]

Juniper Journal’s Vol. 2, 6.5.24 “Professional Growth"

@env0writes C.Buck   Ko-Fi & Venmo: @Zenv0 Support Your Local Artists!   Photo by @env0

Long is the work that is asked of me With little pay and little rest At their behest, I do my best From five ‘til well past three

The hours; long With many tedium to tidy By this rate I’ll buy a home after I”m ninety Is it the breeze or sun or else; what is wrong?

There is smoke on the air And yet the world spins on Choking on the breeze as upon wine so did great Khan Are we to be remember with as much justice, and as fair

These leaves they do not yellow Nor pale, nor fall upon first chill Long too, is their life, their color, their will So as do I linger, paused in time, this land refusing to go

Does the tree long to grow tall To grow verdant and lush full of green Does it eagerly shed its repose, come time for all Halloween? Does it rejoice in the wind when its leaves start to fall?

We are asked of us, a great many deed Of greatness or lateness, of that guaranteed Yet whether we rise or we fall, unheard plead Wipe away tears, and the mess that we bleed

Assuredly as the tall trees surely stand My feet too are firmly planted in land I will rise taller than tree, than the sun, than even god Call me tomorrow, with same certainty I will arrive, just as odd

[env0writes]

Cicada Sentences Vol. 2, 7.10.24 “Friday Worksite"

@env0writes C.Buck   Ko-Fi & Venmo: @Zenv0 Support Your Local Artists!   Photo by @env0

The machine sun stings like lost love Pin Pricked across my smile-circled cheeks Bloodletting blush All while sweat flushes me swimming Standing, canopied, brimming with midday haze

I look to the distant asphalt mirage Wherein lie, deceitful futures Through fence lines, twines, twigs, and decadent figs Saywered cars surround it all Buzzing, just like cicada broods

Shade is sought like valuable water How much paler the sky now appears As though any greenery need gold its presence Eminent in the domain of life and light Sending a sunset reminder to my face

[env0writes]

A Feud to Carry Vol. 2, 2.7.24

“Saint Peter's Post”

I rise before the waking morning sun With blearied eyes and work yet to be done No sound, save silence breaks this silvered night A sleeping world before first golden light Await the day at gates to judge entry Less pearl on paint to pass as these gentry To work! To work! On towers we build high How burdensome with soaking boots and lye No warmth of love from sun that’s overcast How long in this am I supposed to last? When nature keeps is budding bloom asleep No frost, but chill is all winter may keep I am the eyes that guide them on their way Beyond the gates, where profits surely lay

@env0writes C.Buck  

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[env0writes]

A Feud to Carry Vol. 2, 2.5.24 “Revolution"

What’s the use of working, to eat with silvered spoon All week, all day? Barely even able to pay For food, for rent, for friends, for fun All the while struggling to profit someone Else Often – I wonder how evolved we have become Taking the joy of making art To a mechanized stolen heart How weary will I be when workday’s end Looking at letters, messages of love to send Elsewhere I drive past prairies, and watch films of travelers Never to wander in my own neighborhood Nowadays more like a strangerhood How long can these coals burn? When such little for this heat is there to earn Erstwhile Why should I bother with futures? I work all day, sleep all night Struggle to keep the heat and light Surrounded by books Figures and nicknacks in nooks Estimates Never will I own my life now The business bean counters will sell it as a service Depreciated down so as to not miss A single update Buggy, slogged, and late Else I will fizzle out as a sparkler, celebrating the freedom of this great nation

@env0writes C.Buck   Ko-Fi & Venmo: @Zenv0 Support Your Local Artist!   Photo by @mynamemeanscloud