Tag: failure

• Whispers

  They say the time and tide waits for no-one
  Damn I wish I learned how to swim
  The waters up to my neck now
  Chances are looking slim
  Treading water but I’m tired
  Dreading this day I never desired
  I’d be a liar if I said I felt inspired
  Today is not my day and I wonder where it went
  Reminiscing glory that felt heaven sent
  Feeling spent I protest that it was stolen
  Give it back
  I did not consent
  Resenting the demons that whisper
  ‘You’ve got sweet nothing’ into my ear
  Sending shivers of fear and dread
  Whispers I used to fight but instead,
  they career through me as if the demons knew me all along
  Where did I go wrong?
  Where did I go wrong?
  Now Im tagging along
  As if I actually belong
  Trying to borrow a bit of heat
  But this defeat is cold man
  Feeling redundant and old man
  I’m trying to tread but I don’t think this thread is gonna hold man
  More sinking than swimming
  My head is spinning
  Legs seized
  Im about to freeze and fall
  This can’t be all I am but the demons tell me so
  Well wishers say no but they’ll eventually leave
  Throwing in their 2 cents but they’re so naive
  I can’t hear their wishes the demons are too loud
  I gotta fight them but right now I’m too bowed
  Showing preference to deference I’m at their whim and mercy
  I was bested once but now it’s just me that hurts me

  Aug 13, 2020

  creative writing, failure, Life, lost, poetry, work, writing

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• HSBS

  It’s 5.30 on a Thursday and there’s one thing on my brain.
  Wine beers, banter cheers! Chatting shit until the room spins, necking gin until your puking. Open bar open season. Switch off your mind no need for reason.
  Just heading down and I get collared. Mr Project Manager hollers that I have to see a client tomorrow.
  ‘There will be other agencies there too, we need you to represent the crew’.
  Im thinking ‘Yeah safe.. another meeting where I sit in silence, while some suits start chatting finance and I’m wondering what the time is and why I’m even here.’
  I mean ‘Cool I’ll see you in the morning but for now I’ll have a beer’.

  At 10am I stumble into Canary Wharf, completely dwarfed by the towers all around. Surrounded by the sound of shuffling grey suits and the impatient pounding of patent leather boots.
  Altogether it was too much for my sore head to take, however the devil always wants his due and it was my bed to make.

  After a little getting lost and a pitstop for a coffee, It finally stands before me. HSBC.

  Cutting to the chase, here we are now face to face, with a client called Marley, flanked by his three little birds.
  Each an expert in their field he claimed, as was I apparently, allegedly, in web accessibility.
  Unaware of this horrific oversell, the experts and stakes. My blasé attitude the night before was beginning to look like a mistake.
  I didn’t know who these people were and why we’re even here. So thirsty for the beer, I made a pig’s ear of being prepared.
  Overconfident in my assumption of the bit part I would play.
  My ass now Marley would hand to me on a shiny silver tray.
  ‘So Hammez, today i want to know that you truly are the best.
  The spotlight is on you now, I’m putting you to the test. Does your agency belong at the table? We’ll find out soon enough, now bend over and sorry not sorry but this is going to be rough.’
  What the fuck? How the fuck? Surely this man is joking.
  So I start to talk but I can barely breathe, oh dear god I think I’m choking!
  My throat starts to close and bereft of all thoughts my mind begins to clear. An empty chamber with me in the middle surrounded by empty bottles of beer.
  My knees were weak and my arms were heavy, but I’m no Eminem, so I passed the mic along and waited for the ground to swallow me.

  Marley laughed and I hated him.
  My crew too who sat back to enjoy the view.
  As the big red bus they threw me under, broke my spine in two.
  If only they had warned me that this Marley’s got no chill. That he gets his thrills, from grilling you, until your smoked.
  Perhaps I would have done my homework, perhaps I wouldn’t have choked.
  But I should have cared enough to ask and put my ego in my pocket. Maybe I would have had the words and the power in me to stop it.
  Instead of being so cocksure and ending up looking like a cock for sure, I might have actually prevailed.
  But in the end I failed to prepare and ultimately I prepared to fail.

  Jun 19, 2019

  failure, free form, funny, lesson, London, poetry, work

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