Life in a Bag

Life in a Bag

By JFarrell


(my favourite game, World of Warcraft, “Town-in-a-Box”, brilliant, so Terry Pratchett)



I have my whole life in a bag;

Every piece of identity,

Every proof of everywhere I ever lived,

My bills,

My qualifications,

My bank statement.


Everywhere I go today,

Wants me to prove who I am

Prove where I live,

And they all want something different.



I have to agree with them,

Are you sure, you’re who you say you are?

Prove it.



Author's Notes/Comments: 


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Did God make this world?

Did God make this world?

By JFarrell


( I heard in the news Stephen Fry in trouble over comments he made)


Let’s assume

For the sake of argument

God is real

God created this beautiful, amazing world


How can you blame him for the ugliness in it?


The death of a child from cancer

A school buried in a mud slide

People scarred by chemical weapons

People dying in vast numbers


Famine, drought, war

This is all men

With cancer, several years from now we’ll discover something we used to do

Created it


I don’t believe in god (I think)

These are not things sent by god to “test us”

This is us, it always has been

Stop blaming god



Author's Notes/Comments: 

you have a mind, and it's better than mine :)

the new world

The new world

By Jfarrell


It used to be..





Of the tap,

Make you mad enough

Wanna kill someone;



Where’s my reply????

Cmon, stupid bloody phone

Useless bloody internet….


I asked her to marry me….


OH…………….. SHI………. sorry


I didn’t mean to hit you,

Bugger, sorry, was on the phone…


Please wake up,

I can’t of hit you, that hard,

Please wake up.





Author's Notes/Comments: 

dunno what went wrong, but scares the crap outta me

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and, tonight....

And, tonight…

By Jfarrell


And, tonight,

Ladies and gentlemen,

To entertain you,

We have…


Prince Philip is retiring

(i can’t blame him, I’m half his age and couldn’t keep up, what a guy!)

Brad Pitt, “alcohol destroyed my marriage”

Another sex-tape-shame pop star

( who I’ve never heard of )

Cyclists should have registration plates

Oh, look…

Cute dog, doing cute dog things.










Please STOP being distracted!

You have a mind


You are as smart as any of them…





Author's Notes/Comments: 

you are smarter than i am. please THINK

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still peasants

Still Peasants

By JFarrell


John Lennon wrote “you think you’re so clever, so classless and free, but you’re still f**king peasants, as far as I can see.”



Look around,

What do you see?

Wretches, kings, heroes, villans?

Look at the marvels we have made;

Buildings that reach the clouds,

Ships that can reach the moon,

Telescopes that can see the beginning of Everything;

We even split the atom,

And today, we’re creating particles.


We think we’re so clever;

We think we better ourselves;

So, why do we still work, slave-like,

Working all hours,

Just to survive?

Making rich people wealthier,

While we strive,

Harder and harder.


My friends,

We are not classless;

Though some may have the luck to make it big,

The vast majority of us

Will still be peasants.



Author's Notes/Comments: 

working class hero, one of my favourite songs from John Lennon

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by Jeph Johnson 


social butterflies

fly around

making everyone happy


I feel like a

social hornet

Author's Notes/Comments: 


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Quiet like a Crown (day 147)

I wish I lived like I was made of glass

I sit here doing nothing but aching

Quiet like a crown makes you stay so soft

I want to be tender but I’m breaking


I’ve spent too much time under the lights

That’s what you get for speaking out

But when the world hears this titanium voice

I want to laugh and cry, set off this shout


Living like every question, every answer is yes

I don’t know if it’s worth the cracks

I wish I could tell you to speak all your truths

You could try it but you won’t last


Make words into dresses, your tongue into smiles

Give me a raincoat in a downpour

Make your roaring sword into a silver spoon

I wish I could live just a little more


But I don’t have much I haven’t already screamed

I miss talking a battle cry with all this noise

You’re a queen, love, wear your quiet like a crown

This world doesn’t listen to a gunshot voice

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Written 12/22/16

The crown

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2016 Poems

 Boston, MA


          For years cars wouldn't drive 

down our street, even in broad daylight,


          pigeons and sparrows would hang 

out on the telephone wires above our house,


          a yellow and brown triple decker with

concrete steps and a mahogany-colored,


          foyer, the door to the building 

was never locked and would swing open


          when the occasionally truck drove

by carrying materials for new homes far


             from our street, a different neighborhood

with tree-lined sidewalks, pristine parks


               with inviting playgrounds, cool sprinklers

and welcoming benches to watch the world,


          go by, cars would be near, parked and gleaming

in the sun, neighbors would gather to chat as their


                   children ran with abandon in the park, chasing

pigeons and each other until the street lights came


            on and it was time to go home for dinner,

back to the two-car garages and the cars on


                  the street at the end of the day, glistening

now under the stars, silent sentries of the


                homes and people who live in them, while

our street is empty, vacant and unguarded

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Poem about neighborhood perspective.

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January 5th


I slowly fill my tea cup


Watching the hot water thrash the little tea bag back and forth


The way storms toss shingles and trash cans


The way waterfalls await nations that once laid claim to calm rivers


Are we debris caught in society?


Are we as hopeless as homes lying under hurricanes?


Why can we measure wind temperature destruction body counts bullets fired bombs dropped civilians displaced but can't calculate the casualties in our subconscious


If we could see the suffering that vengeance brings


Could it divert us from disaster?


Greed's hot noxious breath is on the back of my neck


I walk through septic tanks of humanity overflowing with sorrow and filth


Hidden side effects of the selfish


Can't someone wake us from this collective Holocaust nightmare?


Some witch doctor from a more peaceful dimension?


I want to bottle your smile and your laugh so it can cure our hellishness


It can cure the coldest heart in its most biblical plague


It reminds me why I can never give up


Because at the end of this swimming pool of corpses


There might be a face like that


To tell me this horrible struggle has all been worth it

Maybe this is why we are here

Not because we're terrible and have arrived to do terrible things

But that we know we can change

That there are things worth fighting for

Worth giving to

And if we keep going

The world could be as amazing as you




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