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     Collected Poems, p.1

       James Bickle
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Collected Poems

Part One
The Ego
The Manager
Those Who Win
Seven Billion
Why Does God Allow Suffering
Local Countryside
New Year

Part Two
You’re Not Allowed
Social Housing
Christmas Day
The Entrepreneur

Part Three
A Week In The Life
The Conversation
Fairground Day
World War 2 Pilot
Resident Patient

Part Four
The Garden
Winter Walk
Inner Conflict
Part One

The Ego
You can’t see it
Neither can you touch it
Some claim it doesn’t exist
Let’s admit it though
Its power is hard to resist

It wants to be your master
Let it and stack up disaster
It likes to be in charge
To shoulder barge

It wants to save face
So you give in and compose lies
They're so hard to disguise
Lies, which are bold
Because you refuse to be told

Chiefly it seeks fame
Secretly, it wants the rest to be lame
It listens to tales of others success
And goes quiet
It likes to disagree
And it’s easily offended
But hard to get mended
Egos take great skill to manage
To unravel - be aware
Of your ego, how it ticks
Don’t let it play its dirty tricks
Make the ego work for good
As ultimately, it should

The Manager

Making up a statement
For workers we just don’t rate
Colluding with the others
But don’t tell my mother

Everything runs by the book today
Until the seniors go back away
You wheeled out the charm
To hide the certain harm

Cutting back the staff
Whilst having a little laugh
Trimming the pay packets
Don’t tell me, I know it’s a racket

I won’t ever get caught
In my world everyone can be bought
Workers off with stress
We will have to make do with less

Area says the books are looking great
So how dare you all berate
What I’m doing can’t be fraud
Because business is fantastic

Those who win
How do people win?
In the world around us
The winners do what’s right
And run away from wrong

They do well and get rich
Yet are generous with it
Keeping on top of pride
They subdue and master anger

And refuse to give in to fear
Unjust guilt doesn't hurt them
Jealousy is forbidden to taunt
They don’t laze through time

Nor gorge beyond being full
Or want no end and more
Those in pursuit of victory 
Are reaching for all of this

They're productive people
Making sure they rest too
What they build is worthwhile
They’re gaining great things

And they've grasped this life
The mixture of good and bad
They didn't choose what's easy
But they chose what’s true

They forgive their enemies
Yet justice is dear to them
Their lives are blessed now
And going to be even better 

Seven Billion

Out there is a sea of faceless people
Swelled up to seven billion they say 
Do I especially want to or need to 
Affect and impact a difference?

Seven million poets just on one site
That’s just part of the Web’s might
People gathering and huddling for reviews
Quietly desperate not to lose

Spilling into the doctors surgery
Doubtless seventy seven people a day
The doctors gab curt and tired
Wishing your three minutes away

Seven tree surgeons in your town
You love the job but the competition
So insipid, it forces you down
No alternative, it’s what you know
So you keep to the mission

This face dazzles in the crowd
He’s a genius, I just can’t keep up
Is it even worth attempting?
You search here and there
For scraps of comfort and morale

Your life and work has so much value
Whether you have one talent or ten
We’re all so worthwhile, be you 
The first or the seventh billionth

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