He liked the idea of space.
The final frontier.
Smoking stars on Saturn's rings.
Yeah, that would do it.
The five o’clock rush was a bitch.
The eight a.m. rush was a double bitch.
Bitch, bitch, bitch.
People on phones.
Wanting to know how their shares were performing.
The wife trying on outfits.
That’s a performance.
Your shares, Titanic comes to mind.
Yes, sir, your shares are performing just as I told you they would.
They’re somewhere in between my lies and my imagination.
They say we’ll be driving driverless cars soon.
The five o’clock rush is now down to just a bitch.
The eight a.m. bitch, bitch.
Two driverless cars were caught at a strange hotel.
The court ruling found in favour of the drivers, Mr X, and Mrs X.
Blaming software problems.
The judge put that into his little black book.
Yes, sir, not only would I put my life savings into that company, I would remortgage my house.
Nice little island in the sun, no phones.
The crash was blamed on driverless cars.
No one at the helm.
The judge was having none of it.
Subpoenas were flying in all directions.
Mr and Mrs X had fled the country.
It was all in the little black book
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Author:
Paul Bell (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: November 27th, 2025 08:58
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 10
- Users favorite of this poem: Friendship
Offline)
Comments4
So easy to point the finger. Which one is the question. Remember the rest point back at the owner. Oh well take flight its the only recourse now days, ask any foreigner ICE cools everything in the summer but now its winter.
Yes when people see money signs, someone will gladly take it off you.
My friend… the moment I saw that title, I heard that Manson lyric of his new album about crossing one's name off the devil’s to-do list...burning every page in that little black book. This poem carries that same gritty introspection… the kind that sits with you. Beautiful work. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
Everyone should have a little black book, though keep it hidden.
LOL! Yeah...and maybe burning EVERY LAST PAGE might not be all that beneficial! 🤣
The poem serves to explore the absurdity and complexity of modern existence, highlighting the disconnect between human aspirations and the often harsh realities dictated by technology and societal expectations. It questions the reliability of both technology and financial systems, ultimately suggesting a sense of disillusionment with progress.
Technology leads the way and someone will be exploiting it.
Probably why the mattress is the safest place for your money.
I do wish a female hound hadn't got all the blame.....
I know, he thought that when he left the country with Mrs X. lol
...and the judge's little black book was worth SFA.....
Teach him for wearing a wig.
Hear hear.
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