Email Poem

Your IP Address: 3.135.217.244
Your Email Address:
To Email Address:
Subject
Personal Note:
Poem Title:
Poem
Workingman

It’s one o'clock in the morning on a Monday
Not much to look forward to this week.  Just another week in the life of a workingman.  Punch the clock.  Punch the boss.  What’s the difference?  A paycheck.  Living week-to-week and scrounging around for sustenance. You call this a life?  I call it hell.

  Yes hell is right here on this earth.  No need to go looking for it.  It will find you soon enough.  And in it’s time it will drive you mad.  Mad as a hatter.  You will grow into this vision of capitalistic euphoria and then realize that the numbing of your soul is a tiger that smiles on a box of cereal.....It’s frosted flakes.  Corn flakes dressed up like a transvestite on the corner or your life; a corner that you can’t turn.  It keeps coming back like a dream of cornfields withering in the August heat.  Billowing up and the fading to gray mindless matter that drifts down and settles on your brain.

Rows and rows of the same green dragon grinning with a twinkle in its eye that pulsates with every breath you draw.  You can try and plow it under but it will grow back like a virus.  You can’t escape the endless letting of your blood to the Man.  You kneel down and pray like a fool.  Did you not hear the whistle blow it’s five o’clock in the afternoon?  You will have wasted another day in this meaningless mire of apocalyptic goo.

 
Dream if you must.  Let the fires burn in the fields of your dreary illusions.  But for God’s sake don’t forsake your love for the job. The Man waits and the money goes into his account.  Don’t give up there is a pension and one day you will you fly to Hawaii and limp on the beaches of your sorrowful work. 
 
  
You put the gun against your head and feel the cold steel against your skin.  I can’t do this anymore you think.  Pull the trigger.  I can't do this anymore you think.  Pull the trigger.  You lay the gun down next to the glass filled with sorrow.  You have a mortgage and a wife and kids.  You have to do this.  And so it goes.  Life is always there and is stronger than death.  But the gun is always there too.  What should you do?  Pray to the Man because he is your keeper? Or take a chance on life?
  
The rusty cage of work will hold you and feed you but you will never break free until you realize that it is you that lives in your soul and you are a not a Godless animal but a child of this world.  Don't let this world pass you by my friend.
Live free.
Die free.
CAPTCHA Preview
Type the characters you see in the picture
Required