Best Salary Poems
Both groups jest across the desk
Rows of tight posteriors
Drool in unification
Till the crap appears.
© Harry J Horsman 2011
Democracy
The politicians have no common sense
Collect their pay and sit on the fence
They don’t benefit me or you
Tell me now, what do they do?
All they say is a brand-new lie
They won’t feed you, but watch you die
They get everything they need for free
Nothing left for you and me
And I wonder if we vote again
What will we receive?
Democracy is a cross from my pen
But I don’t believe
We don’t want war
Or climate change any more.
I watch the people in Trafalgar square
White robes and long black hair
A foreign flag whips in the wind
Stoned to death because we sinned.
We fight for the rights in a foreign land
But for us there’s nothing planned
Their hairbrained schemes will never work
No wonder people go berserk.
David Cox 15/07/24
They talk so much but do little
Yes that’s it, for that is all they can do
When we used to walk distances on daily routine
It was enough to say things can be made better
Horses, bicycles and carts saved the bare-footed walks
But oh, it takes so much a time and still exhorts our energy on sunny days
Then the cars came with roofs, comfort of the seating, air conditioning, radio and all…
What else do we need?
Look!
The road is too bad for our commuting with the cars,
We need better roads.
The road, when graded to eliminate the pot-holes and straightened;
The road has taken part of my piece of land,
The road makers destroyed part of my property,
The road is too dusty that we get dirty and sick after commuting,
The houses close by are living in a hell of dust.
A well asphalted motor way would have been the best.
This newly constructed asphalt road is killing commuters and pedestrians due to over-speeding
The speed rumps will do us some good.
This speed rumps are so many;
Delays the smooth running, and our waist pains after our journey.
The lantern is too smoky and gives us catarrh and even the kerosene is scarce.
We hate this ‘dum-sor’ with this electricity that has spoilt us.
One can apparently do nothing when the lights are out;
Not even to cook.
There is no ‘light-outs’ now but the electricity bills are becoming unbecoming;
In fact, it is too much so they have to do something about it.
This flooding has become per annual event in our cities,
Can’t we get any of them to turn things around?
They now want to deny us even where we stay,
They have collapsed some nice expensive building just to create a gutter, oh!
Even you are not save as you walk on the streets,
A man was arrested for just throwing a small polythene on the street,
And a woman with a baby at her back who threw pampers into the gutter…
We have no jobs but have schooled all these while.
Youth Employment is here for you,
You expect a graduate to plant vegetables or work for Zoomlion?
Or be a bead-weaver?
Salary man.
I had been to a place I should not be, alone
in a street with neon light and it was dawn.
I saw a human river coming out of the subway
running down some steps, filling the street
with silence and the drumbeat of despair.
Neon light shivered as the harsh day took over
thousands of men in suits, and some women too,
dressed as fitting for work, when filling offices
with gravity and restraint as befitting for salary
people who came from the mysterious suburbia.
Evening, the river was as a film run backwards,
down into the subway the river disappeared in
a silence that lacked any expression of delight,
the monotony of work had made them into shy
human robots that had succumbed to labour.
You are worth more
The cure might be in understanding
The deceptive nature of your salary!
Your purpose in life is beyond a salary
But in reality many find themselves caught up
In the dilemma that their job becomes their graveyard!
Some are buried by their jobs because they are trapped in it!
Often, a deeper understanding
Brings out hidden aspects that we might not know about!
The composition of a salary is not the measure of a man or woman!
You are worth more
Hence, a salary is not the only measure of performance!
There exists a treasure inside of you that is priceless!
Don’t forget your dream and don’t let a salary blind you!
Many who only work for a salary tend to work less
Because they have excepted what they are worth
But not you because you understand that
Often a salary is the drug they give you to forget your dreams!
Mark Frank
Copyright 2022
Contrast There are always work left for the month... There is always a lack of salary for living the month
Cash should not only be your main concern
Burn against the error of our time and you will
See the proof in your future husband!
Defend your heart
Let a hermeneutical perspective live inside you
If your man makes you cry, wipe your face
Do not let money be your only issue
Do not worry too much about burning calories
Face reality
Destroy the brutality in relationships!
Do not only concern yourself about the concept of a man’s salary
Although it is important, too many women suffer later!
If your future man acts like a boy
He will treat you like a ‘toy’ and that is catastrophic
So do not only concern yourself with a man’s salary!
Mark Frank
Copyright 2002
Can you imagine a streak of good luck,
When you're lucky even for no reason,
When you buy without asking for change,
When you don't ride like a horse?
Money likes to be counted,
And besides they are in the hands of go
Who, without looking, goes to buy,
Who does not wait for the salary to be given.
Even love without luck is nothing,
She is particularly capricious in this opinion
No one likes it without luck
Feelings pass by in doubt.
Not everyone saw the streak of luck,
She is like a fern flower,
He walks with a proud gait
And she doesn't need anyone's advice.
Thoughts of happiness are like a grenade,
They often blow people's brains out
Everyone dreams of that lucky Sonata
That will give you a bridge to luck.
My master is the government
don't act loyal to me
makes me live in hell,
I realize I' ll eat grass, petals... !
My salary, 'commensurate with responsibility'
A politician's ~ on his ability to rob you and me
To The Now-Pitied President
No longer thought God-Sent
The making of superb contacts
For entry into cleaner contracts
Is a command to avoid patched-up pacts
And-trust-me – costs you True Logisticians
Besides Sincere Magicians;
If the packages are not to hit the rocks
Or more keys appear with stubborn locks;
“If truly thou seekest a final Turn Around
That shouldest not later sink underground…”
For stiff orders you might bark
And mighty millions earmark
But Glorified Brains the cracked
And Misjudging Misfits the backed,
Progress, sure, shall slack
And one begins to Loyalists sack
The Guys one once shook their hands drop
And their disarming salaries stop…
Now, you are rather The Outgoing
And faster thoughts won’t be flowing,
For so it goes with injury time
While Careless Clock continues to chime
But there really was an F. Kennedy,
After 100 Days, ready remedy…
So, while this Counseling Milk you suck,
I wish you A Suckling's Good Luck.
My salary isn't pretty
My choice, a tuk-tuk, not a Rolls-Royce
Neither extended eyelashes nor done nails
A God-made light skin, short natural braids
My salary isn't pretty
When I am riding on the top
I'm always prepared when asked to stop
No moaning, I'll be gentle and go slower
Only go harder when asked to go faster
My salary isn't pretty
"What do you think," "I think it's a good idea,"
Are my only masculine words
"You're right", "I was wrong", "I'm sorry"
Are my only warring swords.
My salary isn’t pretty
I speak only when spoken to
Hands always busy
Filling the quiet spaces with chores
Even when no one’s asked.