Diving Back In - A poem of Job Searching in Frustration

I have a confession to make.

Forgive me folks, for I have sinned.

Amid my determination to stand up for myself

I relented and started job searching

despite vowing months ago not to.

The real sin is not trying.

You see, tossing in the towel

was something done through my sheer disgust

at getting no where at all

these last three years of effort.

Now, don't get me wrong, folks.

I still have had enough crap

to last this homeless bum a lifetime.

But, I find to satisfy some

I must once more move mountains.

And mountains is how it seems.

Try getting a job without foundations

upon which to build back your life.

Things others take for granted daily

like homes, bank accounts, or transport. 

Some say I aim too high,

yet in the same breath berate

that I look at jobs well below

my previous levels of abilities shown,

hoping they make some small offer.

Dare I look at my emails?

Having already tossed out some resumes,

I know there might be replies there

but fear them to be rejections

from folks who don't understand me.

Already, six places have sent letters

demanding I stop applying with them.

Six places, with two others, now listed

in my little, evil, black notebook

to never do business with again.

One of those latter places lied,

another played games with my head, 

promising it was the first interview group

when they had another before it

from which they filled the position. 

I admit that for the moment

I am cherry-picking the places applied

not taking the big step down expected

for the time being at least.

But that will come soon enough.

The others? That first damning group?

Well, if you must ask indeed

it includes four firms owing me favors, 

one organization to remain unnamed forever,

and one government agency of hypocrites.

Still, for now I will try.

Once more into the breach boldly,

and all that crap from literature read.

But I still have a bet

that writing will pay off first. 

So, here I sit, nervously debating

over opening that browser this day.

Will it be good news, ill omens,

or just more of that silence

so many use as reply now?

Time to find out, before diving

once more into those job postings

on the internet while sitting so patiently

here in the sunny library section

trying to keep my hopes alive. 

30December2013 - Dyfedd Rex, hoping for better things next year. 

Commentary: Yeah, it wears on you. The constant process of application, rejection, and getting up, dusting off to try again. I do hope for better things next year, but realistically? No, things will probably stay the same. Look, after three years unemployed, many places claim I am unemployable. Despite doing volunteer work, pick up jobs and even stooping to shoveling snow on the sly to keep myself busy and in coffee and tobacco. But, despite those earlier disgusted moments, I keep going back to trying. Think about it, folks. Who would you rather have, the guy who keeps slogging on, or some super-model who looks good, but fails the test of time. Not that I have much better a record. My only redeeming quality, I feel some days, is that loyalty and pride that prevents me from looking for a job while taking another's dime, unless I'm working part time. 

    So, chide me all you want, for breaking that promise earlier this year to give up. And remember, I still think I will see money from my stories or poems well before I get another paycheck from a permanent job, but would love to be proved wrong. - D.R. 

Dangling Tattered Threads - A poem of celebration

You'd be surprised
at how tattered a thread
you can hang hopes upon
when you're homeless.

Little things grow
into wonderful moment sin life
like finding yourself alive still
when sun rises.

Today it happened
that my moment finally arrived
and I found great news
waiting amid emails.

An Acceptance Letter,
just a little, tiny thing
that changed my day totally
into something brighter.

Not a job
but a story I submitted
being green lighted for publishing
in an anthology.

It's not much,
at least not to most,
but for me, right now,
it is enough.

Thanks, and yes
I eagerly said "Hell Yeah!",
leaping at that frayed rope
leading somewhere else...
...hopefully much better.
8October2013 - an elated Dyfedd Rex.

Scorpio's Pitch - A poem about letting a world grow

Tectonic mechanics flow across my screen
as the mountains shift form, rising
into imaginary clouds and virtual heights
each peak still undefined to the eye
but casting shadows through my mind
as the world expands once more
allowing new places to speak of softly
over a campfire or sitting amid books
as my fingers dance the patterns
that only words and worlds can make
coming out of my imagination
to be shared someday, perhaps soon
with any who care to read
what I might jot down.

Details drift around the images
cutting the fog apart at times
and other moments adding confusion
making me doubt the instant
for this creation has come about
even as the Shadowed Continent
heaves itself out of the Abyss
to take its place at last
on the maps with more than
comments about who lives where
or dangers abound all around
like that silly rhyme there
until Kvaeg forms some where unanticipated.

This is the land of the Scorpion
where the beasts are deadly
the plants thick amid long shadows
of mountains that cradle vast plains
between their ridges and peaks
casting long shadows into jungles
over savannahs or across broken lands
where in every crevice and crack
something moves to take your soul
life or just a taste of flesh
sending out its hunters to slay
any that they can find, indiscriminately
until the totem beast seeks
vengeance with its own hunter.

Now Dhibt appears, still shadowed
telling me that the rivalry known
is the one this tale will expose
between two states and beliefs
that cannot be more opposed
not just in power and land,
but in the eternal war for souls
that good and evil always wage
where those least concerned by them
can afford them to be fighting
on the croplands of Ganzer and Ar'ulla
across the line of rotation's bulge
in the lands of Kita'mesh
where the Saplathulu must die.

Sexbot Break In (My Email Got Hacked) - A Poem

Cries in the dark of night
as they come flying in again
seeking the ports to my brain
to steal the skeleton syllables within
that will make me a zombie
bound forever to their damned will,
moving to the tune they play
upon their pipes of electromagnetic ivory.

But the walls of fire hold
staving back some of the attack
while the peircing lance breaks up
inside grey matter and silicon boards
only to be washed away fast
by demons who live in there
and have strict rules of conduct
in their Neighborhood Association' bloody charter.

The Sexbots got some flesh today
but not enough to sate them
they will return seeking to enthrall
and I will be here still
shooing them all back to Hell
with my electric broom and finger
waiting for that one slim chance
to return the favor some how.

(23Apr2012 - Dyfedd Rex)

Zombie of the Sexbots' Revenge - A poem of having your email hacked

Zombie now I am.
tool of those I mocked.
Held forever more in durance vile,
until I find a way
to break these chains.

Their cries I ignored
until their filthy claws struck
taking over body and soul fast
in the night's darkest hour
when the demons roam.

My fingers never move
yet the messages are sent
seeming to originate from my hand
yet composed of black magic
moving around like snakes.

Beware opening that mail
for my condition is contagious
and your soul will be imperiled
if eyes fall upon text,
enchanting your as well.

Run away from me
seek the safety behind fire
for the disease seeks to spread
and take us all down
to burn in Hell.

I wander the wilderness
seeking a cache of salt
to lay under my tongue swiftly
and break this dark spell
freeing my virtual soul.

But I quest vainly
suffering agonies so damningly dark
as my browser roams tabloid pages
locked in on celebrity "news"
which poisons me more.

At last I stumble
upon a method of freedom
staggering into an angel's arms
as lasers burn out infection
I am free now....
..... but a bit brain-dead.

(23Apr2012 - Dyfedd Rex)