PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Imagine for just a moment here
if you are indeed able
the calm controlled chaos
that builds to stir
in the waning wee hours
just before dawn
the tired, disheveled roughnecks
milling around
characters constantly entering
characters constantly leaving
the smokers predictably smoking
or declaring to one another
'It Is Time!"
as the jokesters joking

sling their particular brand of bull shit

to and fro
at one another
back at passengers the previous day
and or night
who riled their anger with some barb
 or act of stupidity
and more frequent than not
to the good natured or semi perverted
dispatchers even
(depending on which one is working
that electrified morning)
this hub is a lively sight to behold
the dingy confines of the antiquated
dispatcher's office
with its grungy floors and sparse furnishings

of decades old hodge podge chairs

for asses that are tired to sit in
and some that smell still too much like
old dirty asses that sat in them previously
this place is a modern age Mark Twain novel
come to life
among the pack we have
the clowns, the perverts. the die hards,
the blow hards, the quietly introverted
solemnly waiting to go to work or
merely still half asleep themselves
some mornings can be an atom bomb of
personalities simultaneously imploding
shooting the wit and humor off the charts
ah, but then there are moments when one feels
like they have been thrust back in time
and are surrounded by too many middle aged
14 year old boys to count
all these mentioned elements mesh to create
a wholly workable stable of flowing work force
and at the helm of this sweet tart cess pool are
the handlers
more aptly labeled the dispatchers
some are easy going
some commanding
some endearing
some down right ornerier than Hugh Hefner's own snot
some pugnacious and by the book
each has their own particular ways
learnable though varying at every shift
the dramas and gossip crop up
but over all,

the mad house mentality
pretty much resembles the moderate dysfunction
of any typical family
many is the time when I get home from this
doormat dormitory or some other vulgar such

yet sketched in my mind fully enough to get labeled
I think to myself I will look back one day
and rather fondly recall my way too early mornings
with the plethora of these innocuous individuals of
our mutually forced acquaintanceship
and I will fashion myself
a Mary Tyler Moore-esque type of history
and my future will be glad for
the memories from such hard working days
as I once deliberately allowed myself

to endure

and this 'Revolving Circus' I once performed in

will pre and post vast swaths of my working years........

(Aug.14,2015 804pm)