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Array ( [sid] => 67665 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => Jobcentre Blues [time] => 2004-10-16 08:03:56 [hometext] => [bodytext] => Cricket wicket teeth at 12 o’clock
Like dirty hookers, hanging out
Arse bulging under muddy sweatpants

(My body shudders to a halt…)

Snotty moustache to the right
Exuberance in cheap Argos gold
Sovereigns sit perched on swollen digits

(My brain tries to escape…)

Spotty kid in the tracksuit
Tattoo scrawled on the knuckles
Hate? Love? The name of his dog?
His twentieth girlfriend perhaps.
The one at last!
With the pram and the lit fag
Baby baptised with ash
The grey, brown, black, rainbow stain
On the seat,
I sit on the edge
As I cringe and stare at the zoo

(My heart cries…)

My name at last! I walk over
To be looked down upon by some old fart
“Look” I say in sarcastic tone
“I have a degree”
“And you look down upon me?”
She asks me to sign on the line..
As I feel the breath of some fat slag
With arms and tits to the floor
Like mops
Waiting impatiently behind me

(I need to run away…) [comments] => 4 [counter] => 175 [topic] => 6 [informant] => adsalamon [notes] => (Word deleted by Mod_11) [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 10 [ratings] => 3 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => AngryPoetry )

Jobcentre Blues

Contributed by adsalamon on Saturday, 16th October 2004 @ 08:03:56 AM in AEST
Topic: AngryPoetry

Cricket wicket teeth at 12 o’clock
Like dirty hookers, hanging out
Arse bulging under muddy sweatpants

(My body shudders to a halt…)

Snotty moustache to the right
Exuberance in cheap Argos gold
Sovereigns sit perched on swollen digits

(My brain tries to escape…)

Spotty kid in the tracksuit
Tattoo scrawled on the knuckles
Hate? Love? The name of his dog?
His twentieth girlfriend perhaps.
The one at last!
With the pram and the lit fag
Baby baptised with ash
The grey, brown, black, rainbow stain
On the seat,
I sit on the edge
As I cringe and stare at the zoo

(My heart cries…)

My name at last! I walk over
To be looked down upon by some old fart
“Look” I say in sarcastic tone
“I have a degree”
“And you look down upon me?”
She asks me to sign on the line..
As I feel the breath of some fat slag
With arms and tits to the floor
Like mops
Waiting impatiently behind me

(I need to run away…)

Copyright Â© adsalamon ... [ 2004-10-16 08:03:56]
(Date/Time posted on site)

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Re: Jobcentre Blues (User Rating: 1 )
by pezmo on Saturday, 16th October 2004 @ 08:18:15 AM AEST
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good poem m8. know what u mean by it too.

take care

pezmo

Re: Jobcentre Blues (User Rating: 1 )
by chimera on Saturday, 16th October 2004 @ 08:20:20 AM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)

A little crude for me, but I guess that reflects the atmosphere of most jobcentres.
I feel your frustration

Re: Jobcentre Blues (User Rating: 1 )
by a_bear on Saturday, 16th October 2004 @ 01:20:10 PM AEST
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arrogant? too good for people around you.. I shudder ..wondering if your degree is in self-centered head-up-my-ass-think I'm better than everyone else. I hope not.

Please don't be like that..

Re: Jobcentre Blues (User Rating: 1 )
by Stoney1 on Sunday, 17th October 2004 @ 04:25:29 AM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)

Thus spake one with no degree.

This is an excellent piece of work. It captures
the very essence and mood of the place.

Also, what emanates from the protagonist is
the feelings of unease, and dismay at the
"outrageous fortune" that has placed him
there at this point in his life.

Nice work!

Stoney

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