PRESENTING THE ON GOING STRUGGLE
                    THAT ETERNALLY ENDURES IN THE
                    
                    THE JANITOR'S CLOSET: A POETIC EPIC     
                         "I AM MORE THEN A DOOR!"

     Open! Close! Open! Close!
Why do I have so much anger?!?!
It is because those shiny hinges leach on to me
like a wet clothes on a hanger

     Yes, and that my wood is dusty
My little window has dirty glass
and that opening and closing is my only job
This is a very tedious task!

     People always call me a barrier
it makes me utterly sick
But it's my neighbor that really angers me
that cute little bottom brick
                    "LITTLE BOTTOM BRICK"

     I am the little bottom brick
carrying all that heavy weight
I wonder...truly ponder
on how much weight I can take

     My view of the closet is not glorious
I can only breath the dirt around
which stains my crusty red surface
dirtying it...brown

     The surrounding overbearing walls of concrete
tease me because I'm wide and bare
but bricks are naturally fat and naked
OOOOOOH! How they stare

     The tools they scrape against me
as they drop...if I had blood I would bleed
But not once do I protest 
It's always other people's needs

     I am the wide bare bleeding hated bottom brick 
How much torture must I endure
though I am certainly not the lowest life form!
That's the despicable peasant floor! 

                    "IN DEFENSE OF A FLOOR"
     I sit here and sit here
and I then I sit some more
people constantly stepping on me
I am the floor

     "it has horrible tiles!
brown with a bits of red
and those little white specks...ugh!"
the artist said

     "Horribly laid down
so bumpy, done unprofessionally!"
the custodian thought for awhile
and said, "Older the 1943!"

     "Omigod! What horrible colors!
so ugly! so lame!"
the decorator scoffed
"It's out of fashion!" she exclaimed

     But do you see me slightly faded
Do you see a tear trickle from my eye
No because I refuse to be insulated like that
so I reply:

     "I am not bad
why without me you see
There would be only dirt beneath you
and your shoes would get dirty!

     Dirt!...make fun of dirt if you must
but have nothing against this fine floor
I do what I have to do well
even if I have little allure

     Sure, I may not be in style
I may be no femme fatale
but I do my job well with honor
I am better then that wall!

     That wall...now that's ugly!
Why it's no more then concrete
Why people hate it so much they vandalize it
at least they keep me neat!

                    "Respect for a Wall"
     I am a wall
I may not be colorful, nor a saint
But I am certainly not a blank canvas
for your toxic spray paint

     How dare you dirty me!
Don't you know who I am at all?
I am not some lowly life brick or door
No, I am the mighty wall


     I am a wall
I stand proud and true
When the weather gets hectic and dangerous
who protects you?

     The Wall! you lean on me
I listen when you whisper, laugh, or yell
I know your deepest secrets, your dreams and fears
Oh! the stories I could tell!

     So the next time your lonely
and that devious can of spray paint gives you a call
reply, "Sorry can! you retched toxic thing
But I have more respect for a wall!"

                    "Call me can"
     Psst...come here kid
Let me tell ya who I am
They call me spray paint
But you can call me Can

     I myself, is blue
But my friends are red, yellow, and green
Heh...some are a washy purple, orange, and pink
if ya know what I mean

     But the color doesn't uh..matter
It's what we can do
We make a bland wall a masterpiece
and the artist...is you!

     Just shake us gently
and take off our plastic tops
go ahead! spray a little at first
Just watch out for the cops

     Spray a little more
any blank wall will do
me and my pals...we ain't fussy
But it can't happen without you!

     That wall, has got a problem
I think we should put it in it's place
Why don;t you take me and my friends out
and spray all over it;s face

     But kid...there is one thing
you should know...that should be digested
art work such as ours is slightly illegal
ya might get arrested

     But be careful and you'll do fine
just watch out for a cop
and while your spray painting the wall
get some on the mop

     We don't get along very well
I don;t like him, ya see
word on the street says he;s an undercover cop
out to get me!
                         "Tops Mop"

     There are many mops in this world
Almost everyone has a mop
But I am the best
I am tops

     Tops Mops, is what they call me
I'm in charge of keeping things neat
I clean the walls, doors, bricks, 
desks, and the wooden seats

     Now, I know can has talked to you
and has sent you to get me out of greed
You see Mops make more money then cans do
He's a real bad seed

     He's gotten people in trouble
sent them to the jail
The only place I might send you
Is to the corner to get my pail

     This is where we all live
In the closet of custodial arts
The brick, door, floor, wall, and myself
where we end and start

     We have little space
and we are forced to live together
but we all keep fighting
and it doesn't look like it's getting any better

     The door hates the brick
the brick hates the floor
the floor hates the wall
need I say more?

     The wall hates the can
the can hates me
The ignorance is so thick
you can no longer see

     I'll stop wasting your time
complaining about the tension and dust deposits
but this is what we all go through
in the Janitor's Closet