Token Monarchy

There is an hour 
which interferes with work - 
"our hour". 
We use it, or are used by it, 
to bound round supermarket chains 
or sandwich bars. 
See? We're bound by bars and chains. 

Workers pound the counter at 
the Queen's Head every lunchtime. 
Time for lunch, not time for hunger - 
hunger learns to coincide with lunch. 

The counter which we use, 
or are used by, 
the Workers' Pound, 
bears the Queen's head. 
It's a token. 
You get these if you work. 
Hard work, hard cash. 

Someone gives you tokens, 
which you trade in for Things. 
The Queen approves. 
Sovereigns can do anything. 
Wake up when it's dark, 
do things no sane adult 
would ever want to do, 
and you can have tokens, too. 

One day, we'll see beyond Things. 
Work work out of our system. 
Pools will be stocked with carp, 
not typists, 
and the Rush Hour will mean 
a lazy while 
spent on a river bank - 
not that anything will be spent, 
and banks will have been abolished. 
The only office will be evensong, 
nothing will be known as "hours", 
or even "ours", 
and pounds will be locked up 
... in pounds. 

Alarm clocks will be wound up. 
Treadmills will be recycled, 
much to the relief of guinea-pigs 
(which will be renamed, 
along with money spiders). 
There'll be a Queen's Award 
for Indolence. 

I've seen the future, 
and it doesn't work.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2017

Poem

Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.

Please Login to post a comment

Smith Avatar
March 28, 2017 at 4:22 PM
Love it Michael...works or doesn't work for me
Coy Avatar
March 28, 2017 at 4:23 PM
LOL Great comment, Tim. Thank you so much!
Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace