In - Tray

The in-tray in my office,
With it I’m obsessed,
It seems to be demonic,
With evilness possessed.
No matter how I toil,
The documents push or pull,
Every time I turn around,
It seems the bastard’s full.
I grab paper by the handful,
Do work by the reams,
But it grows faster than I work,
Or that’s the way it seems.
But I have a plan in mind,
All my wishes to fulfill,
I’m going to remove the paper,
And put in a hundred dollar bill.

Well, if the money multiples like the paperwork ...

Giant Marshmallow

I was eating a giant marshmallow,
Down my throat it was steered,
But when I woke up I discovered,
That my pillow had disappeared.

Ink Jet Cartridge

I arrived at my sleepy school,
That rests atop a ridge,
To see the works I fear the most,
“Please replace cartridge.”
This is the one in the fax machine,
It’s an ancient one I think,
And to save ourselves some cash,
The cartridges we re-ink.
I assembled my menagerie of tools,
Plastic gloves and syringe,
A supply of ink and sticky tape,
Then I began to cringe.
The ink tipped over on my desk,
Turning all the papers black,
It shot up and painted the ceiling,
Then ran down my back.
The syringe trembled in my grasp,
In my flesh to stick,
I felt just a little bit silly,
I felt a little prick.
I syringed ink into the cartridge,
It flowed rather fast,
And squirted from the cartridge top,
And sprayed someone walking past.
The tape refused to seal the top,
Perpetually coming away,
But it wrapped around my head,
And I have nothing more to say.

I hate changing them, but a new one is $55 and a refill pack is $7. It's worth the ink stains on your hands for 48 hours.

Breathless

Ihavemissedyougreatly,
Thesinthatisyourskin,
Breathlesswithanticipation,
IsthestatethatI'min.
Ican'tbreathwiththetension,
Youhavecapturedeverybreath,
IfIcouldexpireinyourembrace,
Itwouldbeawelcomedeath.
Butthatshallneverhappen,
Youaremytreasuredwife,
Weshallalwaysbreathtogether,
Andtogetherwe'llembracelife.

This is a sappy little bit where I started with the "breathless" idea. If you're breathless, you'll eventually die, hence the bit in the middle. I also ran the words together to simulate someone short on breath.

Trepidation

For months I have avoided you,
The prospects so unkind,
But the fear that you implanted,
Was never far from my mind.
The day approached with malice,
Over the horizon it sped,
I wished I had been stronger,
Or that I used my head.
With trepidation I participated,
But fear accounted for nought.
Things weren't nearly,
As bad as I had thought.
So, I've learnt to be more rational,
To be positive each day,
To try to stay ahead,
And not let my imagination run away.

Inspired by a pending trip to the dentist - it's amazing how long I put things like this off for, only to find out my imagination had run away to the point that my expectations were a mirror of Hell.

Shiver

I shiver, I shake,
I tremble with anticipation,
I come out in gooseflesh,
Much to my consternation.
I wiggle, I waggle,
I squirm and I wriggle,
I am so uncomfortable,
That nervously I giggle.
I am so disappointed,
I am such a jerk,
I should have brought myself,
A warm coat to me to work.

That'll learn me for going to work early - the day was warm, but it quickly turned cold. Never mind - it was a Friday before a long weekend - not much could make that bad.

No Outward Sign

I don't know if you're happy,
You won't give me a sign,
Your happiness is so truncated,
It never matches mine.
You don't display much emotion,
Your moods are uniformly grey,
You never seem to comprehend,
A single word I have to say.
Why must you torture me so?
Just give me an outward sign,
A slight form of movement,
Just this one single time?
But I refuse to be disheartened,
My sorrows I shall not wail,
You can't show me you're happy,
Because corgis don't have a tail.

I just love my corgi, however, with no tail to wag he has trouble showing it. However, his eyes and ears give him away.

What You Give Me

I'm just an ordinary guy,
I know you understand,
But you love transforms me,
Into an extraordinary man.
You give me breath when I'm suffocating,
You give me water when I'm dry,
You inspire me when I'm listless,
You're the truth when I'm a lie.
You give me sparkle when I'm dull,
You fuel my flagging fire,
You're the banquet when I'm starving,
You're solidity when I'm a mire.
Without you I'm an empty shell,
Hollow from head to feet,
You're the last piece in the puzzle,
You make me deliciously complete.

Sappy, sentimental saliva. Move along.

For You

It's nice to be nice to others,
There's not enough smiles today,
But who's looking after you,
Who will you attention pay?
When you're feeling dark and down,
Who will remove your bitter tears?
Who will nurse you back to health,
Or be the banisher of your fears?
Just turn my way and smile,
Or give me a meaningful stare,
Because for your endless kindness,
Forever for you I'll be there.

I was thinking about how some people give themselves selflessly, often for no reward other than the intrinsic worth of helping others. So, I added a reward for the person mentioned in the text.

Eating Pussy

I like to eat a little pussy,
It's a throwback from my past,
It's a hunter-gatherer type of thing,
But man, they're really fast.
I catch them in my neighbourhood,
And remove their little paws,
Fry them in a very hot wok,
And add some satay sauce.

I was watching "Rock Star" and the term was used. Sounded like another perfect piece of twisted poetry.

Myself

I won't pretend to be another,
Myself is just for me,
I am a self-indulgent type of fool,
A study in individuality.
At times I conform with the mainstream,
From my head down to my shoes,
But that's because it suits me,
And the mainstream I consciously choose.
But at times I worry even myself,
My passions so dark and strange,
The thoughts that I entertain,
Border on the deranged.
But when I finally harbour worms,
Or my ashes rest upon a shelf,
I'll know that I've been successful,
Because I've remained true to myself.

I know, it's a trifle self-indulgent. So sue me.

Big Stiff One

I like a big stiff one,
It makes me feel all right,
It gives me so much pleasure,
Each and every night.
I like it in every room,
I like it long and white,
I even like it long and black,
They're all the same at night.
I like to hold it in my bed,
I'll hold it in my chair,
I grasp it with both my hands,
Until empty - nothing there.
I caress it so very often,
It makes me strong and stout,
I love my occasional coke and bourbon,
What did you think this was about?

I'd just sat down with a big, stiff drink and thought that term might be confused with something else. Perfect fodder for poetry with a twist.

Proud (contraversial)

This one's a bit black - you might be offended. I was merely looking for irony, the subject came to me as I marched with reps from my school today in the ANZAC Day parade.

He survived the landing at Gallipoli,
All his mates were killed,
It was that God was smiling on him,
And in preservation he was skilled.
He survived the Turks' machine guns,
He survived the frag grenades,
He survived catching dysentry,
And the ravages that made.
He survived his bloody capture,
And life in a prison cramp,
When all you have to dine on,
Is the occasional stomach cramp.
He survived his daring rescue,
And the perilous homeward trip,
He survived the loss of a leg,
And the loss of part of his hip.
He proudly marched down the street,
In the noble veterans' parade,
He marched through the heat and humidity,
When his tired legs abruptly swayed.
Proudly he sank to the ground,
Surrounded by his surviving mates,
He survived a Great War overseas,
To die decades later with his mates.

High Heels

The orchestra played its sinuous symphony,
A flurry of sensuous moves,
The music was addictively absorbing,
But I only had eyes for your shoes.
Your legs coiled with mischievous intent,
The leather a supple black,
The heels so long and pointed,
I long for them on my back.
They rested with anxious energy,
Moving in deliberative welts,
They embodied your femininity,
And caused my heart to melt.
All those around you were conservative,
Wearing sensible foot attire,
Yours with their rakish angles,
Set my blood on fire.
But now I am away from you,
The music I cannot see,
But your heels are always here,
Forefront in my memory.

No, I'm not kinky. But I did notice her shoes. We went to a concert last night and in the orchestra was a violinist who was wearing these pointy high heels, when all of those around her were wearing far more conservative footwear. I took my surprise and twisted it into an obsession.

German Shepherds

I had some stuff to burn,
Some leaves and trees and wood,
Which required me to visit,
People in our neighbourhood.
This was a friendly thing to do,
I'm like that you know,
So, if people suffered from asthma,
Somewhere else they could go.
The first neighbour had a dog,
A German Shepherd type,
They are a friendly sort,
Don't believe the hype.
The second neighbour had a pet,
No surprise to you,
As I arrived I was greeted,
By a German Shepherd too.
The third neighbour was a surprise,
As dusk gave way to night,
I arrived at their front door,
Not a German Shepherd was in sight.
I said, "This is the first home,
And neighbour that I've met,
Where a German Shepherd hasn't lived,
The attraction I don't get."
And as we stood at the door,
A woman came driving sheep,
She penned them up with great ease,
To allow them to go to sleep.
The man just grinned at me,
The joke the best of his life,
"Meet our own German Shepherd,
She's Eva, my lovely wife."

I have two great, big piles of old trees to burn off. To do this, I have to get the permission of our neighbours, fill in a form, get the Fire Department out to have a look at it, then I can burn it. The first two places I visited had German Shepherds. I got to thinking how the third one, which didn't have a dog, could still have one. Then, when I commented on it to the person, there could be an interesting moment of embarrassment.

Choices

It lazed with odious weight,
Constantly reminding me of its existence,
Forefront in my tangled consciousness,
Never far from consideration.
So many options lay before me,
All clambering for recognition,
All seemingly worthy of attention.
None signaling as a worthy selection.
Time may serve to be the answer,
But too much of it will pollute,
A decision is looming large and lumbering,
Grant me the strength to chose wisely.

We had just been paid and I had a pocket full of money. Being the responsible consumer, I wondered what I could blow it on. The myriad of options spawned the poem.

Paint Frenzy

Our house interior was looking sad,
Echoing of the previous folks,
Who have painted it a bland salmon,
We were the butt of many jokes.
So, Charli grabbed the paint rollers,
And her trusty brush,
Went to the store for some ochre paint,
And then there descended a hush.
With a blur and a movement explosion,
A frenzy if you will,
She twirled around the house,
And proceeded to the walls fill,
With a lather of a yellow hue,
Akin to the rising sun,
And with her maniacal laughter,
She seemed to be having fun.
The furniture got the treatment,
The carpet and the cat,
The computer and the light,
But not satisfied with that,
She painted the kids and I,
But chortling with my glee,
We now all blend in,
And me she cannot see.

Charli wanted to expel the demons that were the people who owned this house before us. The best way she felt to do this was to repaint the inside of the house, changing the colour from a neutral salmon to a vibrant yellow. Strangely she wanted to do this without my help. Sounded good to me.

Easter Bunny

The Easter Bunny was not content,
With the girls and boys,
They had been misbehaving,
Arguing and breaking toys.
So, he did not want to deliver,
His clutch of chocolate eggs,
Instead he wanted proper gifts,
For all of humanity's dregs.
So, this year he left behind raisins,
Covered in chocolate,
But they weren't commercially available,
They came from out his butt.

With the way some kids are, wouldn't you do the same?

Kitchen Research

I was just in the kitchen,
And then something I hate,
My toast skittered off the surface,
Of my shiny plate.
The spread side of course landed,
Spread side facing down,
I hate the way that happens,
It really left me down.
But it inspired some thinking,
Some research would be a treat,
You know how felines,
Always land upon their feet?
I went outside and got Daisy,
Smeared Vegemite on her head,
And dropped her form the roof,
And she landed cranially instead.

I had made some toast and it fell off the plate, landing spread side down. I was thinking about how that could ever be considered a good thing ....

Blah Blah Blah

Thanks for coming in Mrs Parent,
It's good to see you today,
I'd like to talk about your child,
And attention you must pay.
He has a blah tendency,
To often blah behave,
And blah eduspeak consequences,
Will blah blah to my grave.
When we blah blah eduspeak,
He blah blah blah eyes,
And blah blah eudoublespeak,
He blah blah blah tries.
Then blah edudoublespeak blah,
Suspension blah blah blah,
Edutriplespeak blah blah blah,
Blah blah blah blah blah.
But blah blah occasionally,
Blah blah great,
He edudoublespeak blah blah,
And he blah blah rate.
The he can blah surprise me,
Be is blah bright,
He eduspeak and blah then,
He gets them all blah right.
So, blah eduspeak is hope,
And whilst he can frustrate,
I find he has great potential,
And a knowledge that's blah rate.
So, thanks for seeing me today,
These things you should know,
And do you have any questions,
Briefly before you go?

I was reflecting on jargon that professionals use and obviously, education is no exception. Jargon is a necessary and desirable thing in the profession. It gives people a common language. People can talk about ICBMs and RAM and infrastructure, so why can't education promote some of its terms? This would allow teachers and community members to more fully engage in dialogue about education and that of children. However, we're not there yet. So, I wondered what a parent-teacher interview would sound like to a parent who was a bit nervous about coming to the school, didn't like school themselves and knew that there were issues with their child.

Raid

The police officer entered the grounds,
The day was clear and bright,
The school glistened with sparkling dew,
Left over from a crisp night.
He wandered under one of the buildings,
Old and countless times mended,
When, to his surprise from nowhere,
Three children came forth and surrendered.
"We're so sorry, Officer, sir,"
They were heard to exclaim,
"We didn't know they were stolen,
We can easily explain."
He rounded them up and restrained them,
And continued his stroll,
As three students burst from the bushes,
Their de facto hiding hole.
All consuming alcohol,
And cigarettes galore,
All minors subject to prosecution,
For they were breaking the law.
He walked towards the Staff Toilets,
The school still in a hush,
And as he approached the building,
He heard every toilet flush.
The smile on his face was priceless,
For he was nobody's fool,
If only the ones concerned knew,
He was just dropping his daughter at school.

One of our parents was at school yesterday giving a talk to students. He's a police officer. Now you know where the inspiration came from.

New Strategy

Just when I thought I was worldly,
Everything seen by my eyes,
A reaction from a child appears,
And catches me by surprise.
The child had been referred to me,
For stealing another's tyre,
My patience was non-existent,
His enrolment was to expire.
As I tiraded around him,
Really, just at the start,
The child was so scared that,
He peeled forth a fart.
Not a quiet, timid type,
This was a full-blown roar,
He knew his world was ending,
And what his future had in store,
But the fart caught me off guard,
And as I scowled upon his face,
His flatulence distracted me,
And I forgot my place.
My heart was then not in it,
My anger faded fast,
I'd obviously made my point,
So I sent him back to class.

True story - I was going off at a student and he got so nervous he farted. I lost my train of thought and then my heart wasn't in being angry. Besides, I think I'd made my point by then.

Self-loathing

Resolving my reluctance
And marshalling my reticence
I gather my avoidances
To feed my procrastination.
Collecting my poor self-esteem
And collating my self-criticism
I group my insecurities
To continue to myself loath.

The last few days have been taxing. I don't mean what I wrote, I'm just moody.

Chocolate Desperado

The feel of warm summer showers,
The relaxation of a back rub,
Fresh brewed coffee in the morning,
A long soak in a hot tub.
The smell of freshly mown grass,
Of someone else doing your chores,
But there's nothing better than,
Eating chocolate that isn't yours.

I was having a complex day at school - all manner of personal issues that needed attention. I had a few spare minutes, so I went to the Staff Room … and there was chocolate in the fridge! Not any more. (I did replace it the next day, but for 24 hours I felt like a desperado.)

Assault on the Senses

The light mingled
In an uneasy penumbra
Heightening the ominous
Interplay of shadows.
The mist writhes around
Encircling my position
Wrapping me in a blanket
That is uncomfortable.
Stealthy whispers creep
Stuttering and stammering
Causing unconscious unease
To echo through my mind.
Bitter fear assaults
My undeveloped palate
I can never develop
A taste for trepidation.
I see the dawn arriving
Blistering red and yellow
Identifying my fears
And shepherding them away.

The first four lines came to me in bed before I drifted off to sleep. Like all people with a memory like mine, I keep a pen and paper beside the bed. If I didn't write it down, I'd either promptly forget it, or spend the next hour lying awake attempting not to forget it, only to wake up and realize that I have forgotten it. So, I took the lines and did the old "I've got one of the senses, so let's do the other four" trick. I extended the ominous theme, with the "ray of sunlight" ending to provide a "happy ending". Too many clichés? I think it works.

You, My Affliction

Do I refer to you as my chronic ailment,
Or are you my acute affliction?
You are remarkably consistent,
But that is in your consistent variation.
You are oblivious to the mental havoc,
That you germinate and nurture.
I'd prefer that you would eschew me,
So I could return to my own infinity.

This began as a loose group of phrases that I tied up together in order to experiment with a new style. I call it "Desperate Lameness".

From Four Words

Replete with enormous complexities,
Each clambering and demanding,
Their essences intoxicatingly fascinating,
Attentional vacuums greedily absorbing.
Such is life's eternal intricacies.

A fried and I were discussing life and she summed it up in the four words "complex, demanding, fascinating, absorbing". I wrote the four words down and forgot about them. I found them yesterday and thought, "Can I write a poem using those four words as the last word on each line?" I went close, but felt I needed the last line to give it context.

Paper and People

The paperwork is piling, not to be ignored,
The people are queuing, not to be ignored.
The paper's gobbling up my time,
The people jealously try to keep up.
The people want something to be done,
The paper too, by an explicit deadline.
The people have complaints to lodge,
I give them the appropriate paperwork.

Some days I have paper days, where all I seem to do is paperwork. Other days seem to be people days, where I attend to the needs of many people. I don't plan them that way, that's just the way that they work out. So, the title came to me first and I started writing two lines, where the paper and the people wanted the same thing. After four, I reversed the order. Then , the last line came to me implying that one generates the other in some self-perpetuating circle.