Old and Dusty

It's amazing, what you'll find on an old computer hard drive. I dug up some rather dated word documents, most of which were fireplace worthy, but some were worth keeping around, so I'll post them up as I see fit for nostalgia's sake:

The Cubicle Cats
-for Thomas Stearns

They are the cubicle cats
They are the pencil pushers
Milling about
Heart-valve heaped with ash
Such sinking hearts
Veins dry, colour-blind, emaciate dreams

This is the simpleton hovel
This is the workspace parade
Here the plastic keys
Are pushed, here they receive
The attention of comatose appendages
Under the flicker of a fluorescent bulb

The dreams are not here
There are no dreams here
In this reciprocal of lost years
This paper jam of their lost loves

Between the heart
And soul
Between the empty
And full
Lies the grey-truth

This is the office peddlers’ end
Not with a death but a cubicle.

Shoelaces

Years ago, a farsighted old fogey lived across the street from us.
he’d tell us everyday the dreams
he bore up in that beautiful mind of his
such perfect dreams.
he saw every sunrise and sunset
each microcosm in every day
and every amount of quips and notions
involving those lost ideologies
he’d tell us how he saw
outside the smog, the city, and
the dreary punch in/out log
searching the horizon line he’d see
peace, love, joy, and chivalry…
and tell us the most poetic rhetoric
that some would say,
could even soothe the broken heart.
but I’ll tell you one thing the man never did see
he never saw that
every morning when he shuffled out his door
his shoes were untied.