Things about Worcester County Massachusetts (A short Rant)

     I’ve moved out to Worcester a few years ago and in that time I’ve noticed some weird and funny things. The first thing that is strange is that when you so good-morning most people answer with a “Yes, I’m fine” which isn’t the proper response and when you point that out to them they get a bit hesitant but eventually acknowledge that they are incorrect. The second thing is they treat retail workers like utter shit but still expect to get helped when they need it. When they do get help the second they no longer need that person they go right back to being pricks. By treating them bad I mean they naysay the workers, talk in condescending tones, have no respect for the workers what so ever. It’s as if everyone in the Worcester County area really believes they are owed something. Especially the women, most of them have an attitude a mile long and it starts as soon as they hit nineteen. The amount of disrespect women has not only for other people but even with their own families they seem to have a great disrespect. Women of all colors in the Worcester County area have the worst attitudes then I’ve ever seen. It’s as if they can’t shut off the cattiness, as if they always have to prove themselves to be the mega bitch over and over again.

            The few good people, decent people, and normal people I’ve met in this area I can literally count on one hand. I just wonder why people in this area choose to live in just an ill-mannered way. This is coming from a project guy. The amount of rudeness, daily disrespect has never ceased to amaze me.

            That’s my little rant.

©Abdul Batin Bey 2017

Poem in the rough

I did I could
to make it work

Left a good paying job-for you
Worked many hours-for you
Spent life savings-for you
Degraded myself-for you

You're working friends never agreed
about our meeting.
You a high school teacher with a Masters
Me uneducated working stiff
They planted seeds of division, you allowed
I've been suffering ever since.

Now you're leaving because
You think you deserve unearned,
Always caring about what others think
Nothing matters but perception
You drove us to divorce but
Don't want to take the blame

Resent me?
How can you resent me?
I gave you my heart, my money, my body, my soul,
and you took, and you took, and you took,
Until nothing was left but an empty vile shell

You're telling all our news
to everyone you meet
Attention is an addiction
You crave the pity poor me seat.

Why won't you get the papers signed?
Feeling frustrated welcome to the club.

Stop holding up the inevitable
Sign the dotted lines so that we both
can be free from one another.

So we both can be free from one another.

©Abdul Batin Bey 2017

It's a new year, and we so far we've all made it. Hope everyone is safe and having fun in this wonderful game we call life. So far I can't complain too much have a new job, renewed outlook on the wonders of existence and lots of poetry to unleash. Will be posting soon, very soon.

Blue Broccoli

 Every second of every day the-
 final hour draws near the-
 vows we took will be broken-
 and I feel as if nothing, nothing-
 can be done except let it happen.

No more notes on the fridge-
No more messages on the mirror-
I was happy, it was only me-
So blinded by love I never did see-
the curb straight ahead.

Sign the papers on the line-
Check the box,envelope-
two hundred dollars and-
we're both free to roam-
free to explore-
free to find a new place and-
become St. James bored.

Pour my heart out into a pint-
Uncle Arthur always cheers I
up with a wise crack or a an
offbeat joke about the state of
religious political brainwashing,
religious political brainwashing.

Penny in the air about to drop.
Hot the clock make it stop.
nothing i can do just stand by.
Sign the line a bit of me is going to die.

As

long

as

she's

happy

that's

all

that's

all

that's

all

all

all

that

mat-

ters

©2016 Abdul Batin Bey

Brady's Basil Preparation

It is for the Libration,
of mind and of
spirit that I
write.

It is for absolute freedom,
of religious fever,
sit in silent
room.

Even as the walls tumble,
divorce on the
horizon I still
write.

It is for my own sanity that I continue
to push my own mental, physical boundaries,
etching out my life in green and red flannel,
skipping meals but never skipping tea and coffee.

Pushing myself to get to the other side of that
plastic wall we have build for ourselves in order
to keep ourselves shielded from utmost reality that
we wont be flesh forever, our moments are sacred
and the journey has only started.

I live my life true to myself because to do otherwise
would be death of the self and I
am not ready to die just yet.

Allow me to give up your cereal conformity so that I may soar,
inspire others, to soar, so that we can all soar together,
smooth silky sativa sheets blowing in the echoing wind
free of all restrictions.

Heaven is the place you call bliss and Hell is the place you call torment.
It's all state of being.
Be in the place you wish to be.
Who cares what mom and pops,
sister and brother,
have to say,
at the end of it all its your existence,
your precious hours- so fill them,
Fill them with Love and reach for beauty, Unity of all things.

Paint, write, eat, love, enjoy, do, do, do whatever your passion drives you,
even if food is scarce and you end up locked in a tiny room hammering on
tiny square letters or inking out spaghetti lines on pages upon pages upon pages of
old torn school notebooks in red and green flannels
at least you are living for you.

Follow that passion that jovial pain
even if it means you work meaningless low level jobs of
folding clothes-stocking shelves-pumping gas-giving ass-flipping burgers-would you like another?

So yes I push myself,
too hard too far,
for pennies or nothing,
simply for the love,
the joy,
of creating because it is a privilege that not ever gets to have.!!!!

LIVE!@
LOVE!@
LIVE!!!!!

©2016 Abdul Batin Bey

Black Stout of Dublin Cats

Soul Crushing,
Soul searching,
pushing myself to the limits,
                                    Ecstasy,
                                    Pain,
                                    Curses,
                                    Blessings,

The nails- I pull them out
One, two, three, Four, Zed,
I name them new names,
Each one a devil aborted-
Each one an angel absolved-
Each one a bit closer to the self that is I-I am-I-I-am

Divorce on the horizon-
Peeling layer by layer of the
skin that ounce covered
the muscles and white ooze
of my body

Divorce on the horizon-
dark hair ever turning
grayer and grayer with
each second ticking down
to that final stroke
ding-dong-ding-dong
not afraid of being alone
just afraid of that constant ear ringing
growing louder,
Angelic choir,
disposable me,
in the mass grave of humanity-

I am-Self
I-Self-Am
Am-I-Self?

I-am-He
He-I-am
Am-I-He?

Extra Stout brings me to the gate-seventh heaven of
Nutmeg delirium-
Ponding heart rate,
kitchen floor,
cool to the flashing spoonful of images
that are being shot out my ass
forty-eight hours later
no better than before
only a super hangover and a last resort
for my subconscious to speak its mind.

Angelic Choir-Soul Crushing
Disposable me-Soul Searching
In mass graves of humanity-
we will be.

Bring me to the Gates of dublin and brew me traditionally.

©Abdul Batin Bey 2016

Starry Flesh

Am I, I
the word
Am I, I
the sound
Am I, I
the swipe
Am I, I
the meaning
Am I, I
the thought
Am I, I
the intent
Am I, I
the music
Am I, I
the melody
Am I, I
the first
Am I, I
the middle
Am I, I
the last

In the flesh of every star
An I exists
Ready to be touched
By the sacredness
Being

Am I,I
Am I,I
Am I,I
Am I,I




©2016 Abdul Batin Bey