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The Worker

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Below is the poem entitled The Worker which was written by poet steven cooke. Please feel free to comment on this poem. However, please remember, PoetrySoup is a place of encouragement and growth.

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The Worker

Torn from sleeps oasis
The razor stings my mortal soul
A glance in the mirror to know I exist
For the face of god lies there
And behind this forced smile
A lunatic walks in the shadow of me

But within this admission
The asylum of my brain
 Has a garden where sanity grows

For bound in chains we gather
Though wind and snow bar our way
Pouring through these asphalt veins
Clogged with cholesterol filled ambition

For Monday morning dines once more
 On another workers soul
And all the while the tick of the clock 
 Winds down this drone
 In happy reapers favour

But the rebels among us 
Hide in the womb of our imagination
To keep the corporate illusions at bay
And my secret butterfly carries this tortured soul
To a place beyond the dollars eye

Where the snake rattles its distain for humanity
For solitude is all I desire
And all the while the clock ticks on
And my existence trickles down the cities throat
Quenching this monster they call progress

And as I crawl home through zombie minds
I feel sorry for the splattered fly on my windshield
For its freedom has ended
Yet my dreams of freedom linger on
Although within my heart I know
This too, will soon be gone

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  1. Date: 3/29/2012 8:00:00 AM
    I enjoyed reading your excellent poetry this morning Steven. Thank you for posting your poetry and sharing it with others. Love, Carol

  1. Date: 3/28/2012 1:45:00 PM
    Touching and sad....very well written. Thank you for sharing. - oxox love Anne-Lise

  1. Date: 3/28/2012 1:19:00 PM
    Loved this introspective free verse. Hugs, Catie :)

  1. Date: 3/28/2012 12:57:00 PM
    A sad write Steven, I enjoyed the introspective view, but unlike the fly you are human and you can rise above nurse your wings till they are strong enough to fly, homeward bound always homeward bound, love and light, Vie