Author: musical

This is it, another turkey ready for bastin’ and roastin’,

Dream jobs in the scrapheap thanks to L’s of the self-inflicted variety,

Losing your gig ‘cuz of leaked dick picks nothing short of idiotic,

But let’s take a look at one poor fool who only had one job to do,

Sent up north for an interview, an exclusive, too, for good measure,

The envy of your peers and rivals, scored a win for your beloved Network,

She’s the hottest star in world of pop music, but don’t call her a comeback queen,

Been around for years, recharged her batteries before returning to the scene,

So off you went, hopped on the plane, travelled to an opposing timezone,

Touched down ready to rumble, got yourself comfortable,

Then the interview started, here’s your moment, go out there and get it,

But just like that it was mission failure, a glaring omission brought about your undoing,

Admitted to her you didn’t listen to her album, of course she was gonna be offended,

How you gonna rock up to a professional setting woefully under-prepped for it?

Just like that she’s storming out the room, ain’t nothing you can do about it,

Your golden moment crashed and burned like the Hindenburg, no excuses can soften it,

Gob off all you want ‘bout missed e-mails, ain’t nobody buying that shit,

You done played around IG during that special assignment, surely the real pros would’ve checked their e-mails for anything last-minute,

At the very least you’d gather background info of your subject, immerse yourself in their latest projects,

You’ve been on the job long enough, your lame excuses don’t carry much water,

It’s a long trip back down under, prepare to face the music,

Enjoy that two-week suspension, your dumb ass surely has earned it,

Take the L on the chin, Bro, it’s the least you can do to salvage that rep,

But while you’re at it hang your head down in shame, Dude you played yourself!

There you go again, struttin’, braggin’, hypin’ yourself again,

Crisping in your ego jacuzzi, self-love taken to extremes,

Flexin’ ‘bout your life’s achievements like they’re the stuff of myths and legends,

Convince yourself every morning that you’re the alpha, still, among fellow humans,

Keeping an eye out, too, on the others like an enemy sniper,

Your level of hustle dictated, seemingly, by peers’ everyday movements,

Donning on that costume when in a face-to-face environment,

Chest proud, shoulders back, eyes up, simple tells you’d rehearsed over and over,

Selling yourself as a chess master, always several steps ahead,

They ought to tremble at the inventory of worlds that you’d conquered,

Joke’s on you, though, as you’ll realise sooner or later,

Get your head from out the clouds and peep at the outliers,

The ones lurking in the shadows away from the population,

Folks like you call ‘em scared and tentative, silenced by intimidation,

You’re dead wrong for believing they’re scared to compete with others,

Not all waste time searching for new people to one-up and get one over,

Some prefer to compete only with the individual within the mirror,

To overcome obstacles no bigger than whom they were just days and weeks before,

No need to feel threatened by the achievements of others, such a mindset is reserved for fools and suckers,

You liken yourself to a warrior, one to be feared, envied and admired,

Hate to say it but they see through the bullshit, you’re just a weenie drowning in insecurities,

Enslaved yourself to your peers, most of whom are just minding their own business,

Letting ‘em live inside your head, rent-free, talk about a wretched existence,

Think about that the next time you prance and preen,

Relying on others to measure yourself against, the rewards are limited indeed.

Traipsin’ through the park in random directions,

The mind’s doing likewise, thoughts touchin’ upon different subjects,

It’s a nice summer afternoon, the holiday season imminent,

Yours truly ain’t even started buying those Christmas presents yet,

The mind’s speeding train suddenly derailed by the presence of a stranger,

Wearing a loaded backpack, clutching the image of one of the city’s landmarks,

Slightly annoyed at being snapped out of my trance, but this fella needed assistance, might as well give this dude a chance,

Language barrier cancelled a verbal exchange, showed me the picture in his hand in order to communicate,

Clear as day that he was looking to get to this place,

Poor guy had lost his bearings, turned to the kindness of strangers to help him somehow,

So lost was I in my thoughts I hadn’t quite returned to the here and now,

Lived in this city for most of my life, certainly familiar with its icons and sights,

Yet I’m lost at sea with this traveler, home had suddenly become unfamiliar,

Pointed to some random direction, where I believed he should go,

Laid out that path for him, it wasn’t quite the yellow brick road,

Nevertheless he was satisfied, thanked me in his native tongue,

Then off he went, happily, into the afternoon sun,

‘Hope he makes it there,’ thought I, resuming my walk,

Headed towards the exits, out to the street, almost time to head home.

New job started, pay was good and hardly complicated,

How long it’ll last up to chance, working life’s taken a turn for the nomadic,

Woke up anxiously then put on my best suit,

Headed out the door, braved the road, caught the train, fuelled by oatmeal, eggs and fruit,

From the station traipsed towards the building, a giant among skyscrapers,

Collected my lanyard from the receptionist, headed off for the elevator,

That’s when she appeared, dressed nice and smart,

Glanced at her, eyes didn’t linger, we exchanged not a single word,

The lift doors opened, like a gentleman let her in first,

She complied with a smile, could’ve sent pulses racing for miles,

Then in rushed behind me a sudden train of humanity,

The rat race had started early, victims running on that wheel already,

We ended up side by side, crammed towards the back wall,

Shoved my way through when the doors opened at my floor,

Stole her gaze once more upon departing, before the elevator closed,

Emboldened by positive first impressions, hoping we’ll meet for a proper ‘hello.’

Crossed paths with her two days later, ‘twas the end of the grind,

From different departments keeping similar hours, happily found some common ground,

‘Hi’, said I, ‘nice to see you again,’

She seemed to remember me, thankfully, ‘fancy running into you here,’ said she,

Yours truly on the way to catch trains, her to the bus terminal,

Three-to-five minute walk from the building, no time for lengthy conversation,

Introduced ourselves to one another, formally, made small talk before parting,

‘Nice to meet you, have a good evening, see you tomorrow’, that sort of thing.

Rode home feeling chuffed, glad to have made a friend, maybe,

Contact finally achieved, still counts as a minor victory.

Ran into her again the next morning, waiting outside the building,

Fifteen minutes early, expanded last night’s small-talking,

‘Twas just a coincidence, I promise, ain’t nobody stalking,

Perhaps it’s a sign of two kindred spirits?

Starting time arrived rather quickly, covered plenty of ground already,

Promised to meet for lunch break, off we went to our respective workplaces,

Turned up bang on time outside that noon, she was already waiting,

For a good five minutes it turns out, but really who’s counting?

Got half an hour to kill, went to the mall across the street,

Off to the food court, got some grub, sat down to swap life stories,

Conversation flowed like a smooth stream, but so did the minutes on the clock,

Walked back towards the building, side by side, just in the nick of time.

Met her again at five-past-five, again walked her to the station,

Day by day met her between working hours, a pair of desk jockeys sharing a daily ritual,

Started at mere friendship, ain’t nobody catching feelings,

Then one day the heart started trolling, ceased to be platonic,

For one party anyway, that would be yours truly,

Her interactions with others exposing chinks in the proverbial armoury,

The working day consumed by thoughts of her, running on high rotation,

All but melting like Olaf before her, internally, that smile a bright light on a barren wasteland, truly,

‘We’re just friends’ that’s all there is to it, don’t even have each other’s numbers,

That would be a start, just gotta ask her permission,

Simple as that, seems straightforward, so why do we turn simple things into complicated puzzles?

Ran through the gamut of feelings, whether pleasure or torture,

Thankfully she’s none the wiser, my straight-face game as impenetrable as ever,

Counting my blessings, daily, that an angel entered my life, willingly,

Perhaps someday in the long run I’ll strike it lucky,

She ain’t mentioned a co-pilot in her life, she ain’t someone else’s wife,

Gotta keep the big guns holstered, resist the temptation, play it cool and collected,

Gonna ask to exchange numbers first, seems like a harmless gesture,

It’s what friends do, should make plans to hang outside of work,

Set the date to ask her the next day, nerves won at the last minute,

Then aimed for the one after, but turned out she was absent,

The weekend followed, can’t believe my mind’s consumed with planning for this,

It ain’t rocket science or a rescue mission, boy do I feel desperate and pathetic,

How to ask her a simple question without coming off creepy?

The mind continues overthinking, the cause of many an individual’s great follies,

“Just be straight with her, stop fretting about it, the more you think about it, the more you’re liable to make a mess of it,”

Easier said than done, love does things to people,

Even the strong rendered helpless against its influence.

Come Monday morning, ‘it’s now or never,’ whispered that inner voice,

At lunch time the moment of truth arrived, time for the bomb to be deployed,

“Eyes up, chest out, exude an air of confidence,”

“Get it over with, Brother, you’d wracked your brains too long for this,”

Sat opposite her as she munched away, hoping her eyes won’t catch my nervous gaze,

Finally mustered the strength and audacity required to get the mission underway,

Asked her for her number, to keep in touch during off-hours,

And maybe hang out too as pals, ripped the bandaid off without second thoughts,

Braced for impact, as though trapped in a falling jet, fire streaming from the engine before hitting earth in a massive explosion,

Heart beating fast, can feel the sweat coming, how will she react?

Thankfully she agreed, removed a pen and notepad from her bag,

Scribbled on it that paper the precious digits, handed it to me shortly after,

Just like that put me at ease while euphoria took over,

The hard part’s over now, continued eating while conversing,

All the while keeping the contents within from bursting, could barely keep the lid on it.

Kept that precious piece of paper close like a rare and sacred text,

Got me acting like Gollum, can’t believe it feels like life itself depends on it,

Shot her a text a few days afterward,

Nothing too serious, just a simple greeting to get the ball rolling,

Objective completed, now we play the waiting game,

That ELO song come to life, the one about telephone lines,

Hopefully it won’t end in vain.

Hey, man, how’s it going?

I see y’all are getting serious, hope it’s been smooth sailing,

I ain’t here to play dating coach and tell y’all what’s what,

Given how me and her ended I’m underqualified for that,

I’m sure she’s spilled the beans to you, the timeline of our union,

Puppy love turned into coupling before exchanging vows at the altar,

Three kids and a decade later things took an unplanned turn,

Veered off course then crashed and burned, left no survivors,

Went our separate ways, won’t ask how she recounted the tale,

But if she’s keeping it 100 she’d tell you both parties are to blame,

Now I hear y’all are ready for the next level, it’s all good and you’ve got my blessing,

Not to get all preachy or invasive but these are pearls that I’m dispensing,

Treat her right, stay by her side, such advice goes without saying,

You may not believe it but I wish you both a happy ending,

It’s on you both to make it work, takes two to tango, it’s all about cooperation and teamwork,

She chose you, you must be someone special, she always was a good judge of character,

My teeth still bared towards her but subconsciously still got love for her,

Though we ended acrimoniously we’re forever linked through those kids,

So if you do her dirty you’d better be ready to explain your part in it,

Messing with my kids’ mother still gets hackles raisin’,

Hope it won’t come to that, for now I’ll trust you’re a real one,

Now let’s get to matters related to the children,

Raise ‘em right, just as she and I had planned during good times,

Make sure they respect you, but a little something for you to keep in mind,

You better remember, always, that their real daddy is me,

Let’s not forget that she and I share joint custody,

Doesn’t matter if she badmouths me, spite tends to bury facts,

I take care of ‘em as well as any parent, ask ‘em and they’ll tell you all about it,

Long story short, I’m daddy and you’re the step-parent,

If the shoe was on the other foot that’s also how you’d see it,

Be good to one another, take on the world side by side,

But make no mistake, I’m still around, I ain’t going nowhere, don’t let me down.

It was ’91, yours truly all of six years old,

Kid from the Philippines, fresh off the plane, in a foreign land to call home,

Set off for a whole ‘nother land, there’s no coming back,

The tickets they were one-way, here’s where the rest of life began,

Familiar surroundings in the rear-view, low-key felt bewildered,

Mom and Pops promised a better life, a risk taken sure looked a winner,

Flew to a place called Australia, sure sounded like ‘America’,

Same language spoken, accents couldn’t be less similar,

Newbies to the country shacked up with Auntie and Unc,

‘Til we found our feet and pops could get a job,

People here looked different, lighter complexions and hair colour,

Faintly resembled folks on television, towering over former compatriots,

They drive on the left here like in a mirror, steering on the right seat,

What language are they speaking? To a young FOF’s ears sounded like gibberish,

Then there were the homes, made from various materials previously unfamiliar,

Bricks and wood, solid foundations, more than one vehicle in every garage for good measure,

Green grassy lawns front and back, how do they maintain them?

Found out soon enough, from out the shed emerged a weird contraption,

Watched uncle fuel that little bugger, yanking that starter cord,

Wasn’t long until the purr became a roar,

Eyes fixed on him as he steered that beast, a trail of light green in his wake,

Guiding it through the yard ‘til the tall and unruly grass was tamed,

‘Lawn mower’ they call it, can’t say I’d seen anything like it,

Fan-boying on transport and machinery then, this just added to it,

Back in the motherland lived in an apartment block close to the big smoke,

Take deep breaths at your own risk, your eyes will water as your lungs choke,

A squatters’ village below, no lawn or nature strip, just dust and concrete,

Closest thing to nature flower pots and vases, mowers are useless here,

Would soon watch Pops take on that contraption, the fascination grows stronger,

The smell of cut grass attack the senses, surprisingly refreshing,

Even to this day conjures up memories nothing short of nostalgic,

Spring and summer afternoons, smoothing the grass in your own slice of nature,

Ubiquitous part of suburban living, could call it de rigueur,

Years came and went, the role of grass cutter slowly changing hands,

Where once Pops took care of business junior soon got in on the act,

During teen years was a form of torture, chores outdoors a form of kryptonite,

Slowly but surely embraced the benefits for both body and mind,

Worked the arms, legs and back real good, being among the greenery lifting the mood,

Also the feeling of accomplishment after the yard’s makeover completed,

Rainy weather seems to follow a week or two afterwards,

Green grass getting a taste of it, boosting ‘em damn near skyward,

And so the cycle repeats itself, time to drag that mower from out its slumber,

Once a child admiring Unc and Pops pushing it, now I’m the one guiding it.

This is it, the moment of truth, a big highlight of your fighting career,

Off to Vegas, the Hall Of Fame awaits, ‘twas a bumpy road for you to get here,

Showed up looking slick, accompanied by fiancé and kids,

Inducted after all these years, took plenty of blood, sweat and tears,

Then you blew it all in such a big way,

Went from hero to zero quicker than a cheetah on a chase,

Went out with your boys, partied the night away,

Returned to your hotel room in a very bad way,

Missus was sleeping, awoke to find you there, asked what was up, like a dutiful partner that cared,

‘Going to the strip club’, said you, naturally she wasn’t having it,

An argument ensued, the culmination of recent couple problems,

One thing led to another, soon she’s at the front desk crying, asking for an extra key,

They noticed blood on her before the kids asked if they can call the police,

Five-O picked you up, you were in real bad shape, still seething from that confrontation with the missus while the booze still got you agitated,

Enough for you to head-butt their shop, smooth move, Bruh, like it’ll help your case,

Before you joked that you could take ‘em on, nah, Bruh, these cops ain’t playing,

Now your fans are leaving in droves, after they’d stuck with you through thick and thin,

Call it the straw that broke that proverbial camel, gonna be mighty tough trying to come back from this,

YOU PLAYED YOURSELF.

This is just the latest chapter of your many run-ins with the law,

In and out the UFC, you’ve been here before,

Vowing to change every time, talking ‘bout Jesus and soul searching,

But again and again you’re the boy crying wolf, fucking up, lying and cheating,

Illegal tactics inside the cage, starting fights during press conferences,

Four years in a row where you came up hot in routine drug tests,

Then there’s the ugly stuff, seguing over to the unforgivable,

How you ain’t done hard time sure makes the mind boggle,

Acting the fool under the booze, and assaulting a waitress? What a bitch move,

Then there’s your performance in 2015, that hit-and-run a further stain on your legacy,

Didn’t even bother checking the victim, just a reminder, she was also pregnant,

Rushed back to the scene to collect your cash and drugs, her welfare and that of her kid of little to no consequence,

Quite the rap sheet you’d built up, common denominator being that you were blotto,

Way to give your growing army of detractors with plenty of ammo,

And now domestic violence against the mother of your children,

Well played, Champ,

Now one of your little ones called the cops on Daddy Dearest,

Those sociopath accusations flying around fast,

Way to be the type of man you wouldn’t want for your daughters,

Even Dana can’t bail your ass, simply no coming back from this,

That court date looms for the twenty-sixth,

Congrats on the Hall Of Fame, now get ready to face the music,

YOU PLAYED YOURSELF.

Ever had a ‘friend’? Quotation marks no typo,

Maybe even kinfolk, for some this post drivin’ close to home,

Remaining M.I.A then popping up and catching you unawares,

Not to catch up or spend time, rather, coming at ya armed full of favours,

Might be innocuous, some problems require extra assistance,

But more often than not gotta bail ‘em from sticky situations of their own making,

Such folks never learn their lesson, off they go committing the same stupid errors,

On top of several new vices that will ruin ‘em sooner or later,

Could put your own life or rep at stake should you also get involved,

How you’re affiliated with such folks remains a puzzle unsolved,

Maybe they were different, legit in the very beginning,

Then revealed their true colors once they got real comfortable,

A favour asked here or there, seemed to be the only time they acknowledged your existence,

You gave ‘em an inch then they gave you miles and miles and left your head spinning,

Further requests became elaborate, requiring more of your participation,

Your resources, too, ‘cuz they can’t or won’t bring their loot to the table,

Requests come in droves, if and when they’ll repay you only Lord knows,

Don’t fall for the trap, friend, ain’t your responsibility to clean up after ‘em,

To sign up to be a slave for hire if not a walking financial institution,

Get out at the first signs, why put up with the bullshit?

Fuck living boxed-up unless you’re needed, be with those that make you feel appreciated,

Drop ‘em, leave ‘em, get far away from ‘em, they don’t deserve your time and energy,

Even if y’all go way back or share blood, they’re taking you for granted daily,

Life’s about losses, eventually, everything is temporary,

That includes people, sadly, not all deserve lasting roles in your story,

Selflessness is a virtue, but shouldn’t come at the expense of self-care,

Risking your health and sanity for the fair-weathered, such a deal is unfair,

No need to sever ties with ‘em permanently, if there are bonds worthy of salvage,

Love ‘em from afar, maintain safe and healthy boundaries so they get the message,

Many within your circle, hopefully, are assets through and through,

But be wary of those liabilities, be strong and cut ‘em loose.

Sixth grade teacher got the young ones role-playing,

Can’t recall the catalyst but she encouraged students to unleash inner thespians,

Bullying and friendship the topic, up to groups of students how they’ll interpret it,

Never would have thought that it’d lead to one fool’s unravelling,

Wish I could say that this was all fictional, sadly it was very much factual,

One small group playing out a scenario where school bullies troll the new kid with immaturity and gusto,

Script called for the victim to be a foreigner, yeah these boys are dousing a burning blaze with lighter fluid,

But 12-year old minds are prone to risk taking of the silly and comical kind,

The subject of this tale goes the extra mile, using a prop to emphasise his character,

A jar, of all things, the meaning behind it to be revealed a little later,

Borrowed a marker from the teacher, colored red for some reason,

Little detail seemed innocuous but then became shockingly apparent,

Smudged a dot on his forehead, like some sort of struggle bindi,

Confirmed to his cast mates that the jar was supposed to be full of curry,

Put on a fake accent too for good measure, talk about going all in,

The shock on his cast mates’ faces priceless, way to sign his own death warrant,

An outsider from their group within earshot played the snitch, alerted the teacher when they caught a whiff,

Teacher onto that poor fool in an instant, the class falling into awkward and nervous silence,

Dude found himself eviscerated, deservedly, the pre-teen bluster drained from his face,

Could barely look teacher in the eye, hoping that the ground would open up and swallow him alive,

No sympathy for this dumb kid or anyone like him, newsflash, Junior, what you thought was comedy was actually racism,

Cut the excuses, you’re one year shy of teens, you’re old enough to know better,

Your parents should’ve raised you better rather than leaving it all up to the teachers,

Copped a public dressing down in front of your peers, now they’re shaking their heads at you while you stand on the verge of tears,

Slap yourself Kid, that’s what you get, maybe there’ll be hope for you yet,

But for now you need to face facts, the so-called golden goose laid a rotten egg,

No Oscars for you, Kiddo, tried to get ‘em laughing but found yourself cancelled instead,

You played yourself.

It’s been ten years since they dragged you away kicking and screaming,

Glory days long gone, running only on pride, the fuel source burns out fast, the goal plausible only in your mind,

Blocked at every turn, by medics concerned for your well-being, also by fellow competitors reluctant to waste time with old and washed-up has-beens,

It was the end of the road, you were adrift with no final destination, might as well call it quits, defying your heart’s urgings,

Pursued different paths in retirement, took to ‘em like mismatched puzzle pieces, that appetite for combat insatiable, born fighters be restless in times of peace and quiet,

Got various debts, too, to pay off, born out of bad luck and your own misjudgement,

Stuck to you like glue, can’t shake ‘em, not while bereft of your main source of income,

Still getting by anyway, treading water on most days, while time marches on with precious few breaks,

An opportunity of sorts popped up one day, out of the blue,

Whether it was smart or a fool’s errand inconsequential, sounded too good to be true,

A return to the grand stage where you once shone, a chance to turn back the clock,

Maybe to ease your burdens, a chance to overcome life’s stumbling blocks,

But it doesn’t work that way, can’t mask reality with ego and delusion,

Even in an exhibition it was over in less than a minute, with you on the wrong end of it,

Time to walk away, it’s a young man’s game, the ring is no longer your sanctuary,

You’d had your time, been a quarter of a decade now, soldiering on can only lead to catastrophes,

Your name still carries weight, why not explore other ventures? Some of your former peers have done that, life for them as sweet as sugar,

Maybe pass on your craft, to the young’uns that still look up to you, including one of your own, why not be a mentor to whom he can turn to?

Whichever way you go, wish you nothing but the best,

You gave your all to entertain, your legacy shouldn’t end in vain.