Best Unemployed Poems
There were reasons we shouldn’t be together,
There were reasons we should have stayed apart,
But no reason could ever reason
With the passions brewing in our heart.
She was married to the mayor,
The richest man in our town,
I was an unemployed musician
For whom success had never come around.
She was fifteen years my elder,
Living in a mansion up on the hill;
I was playing guitar in the city park,
Passing around the hat for some coins and bills.
I sang love songs that I had written
About lovers that I never knew;
No one would ever stop to listen -
My notes rode on the winds that just passed on through.
I noticed her on the park bench,
Feeding the birds and tapping her feet;
I noticed the tears that were escaping
As she rocked to the rhythm of my metered beat.
I noticed how she started singing
The words she had heard each day;
I noticed how later into the evening
The mayor’s wife had started to stay.
I noticed how she started looking
Straight into my eyes as I sang the words;
I noticed how I started feeling
That my lyrics sounded quite absurd.
One day, she left early, after dropping something inside my hat;
I found a key to a motel room with a little note that she attached.
It said, “I can help you write a love song, about a lonely rich man’s wife
Who met a poor musician who gave her back her life,
And then when you sing your love song, people will hear it in your voice,
That it is a song that has real meaning and they will listen without a choice.”
We made love in the evening;
We made love into the night;
We made love the next morning,
At the first signs of sun light.
When I was writing down some music
For a new song, fresh in my head,
She left our room but didn’t go home -
She drove away from our town instead.
Now my hat gets filled up quickly
As people stop to hear my song
About a love between two lovers
That didn’t last very long.
There were reasons we shouldn’t be together,
There were reasons we should have stayed apart,
But no reason could ever reason
With the passions brewing in our heart.
unemployed old men
waiting for winter to come
Santa jobs again
The dollar store around the block, I didn’t have a buck
McDonalds had a happy meal , I was out of luck
The ATM was putting out, my PIN was incorrect
My bank account was overdrawn, I couldn’t write a check
My car was running empty and my credit card declined
VISA called and left a message wanting to remind
The unemployment office said I’m ineligible to receive
The resumes that I sent last week no one will ever read
The doctor’s office said to me I am uninsured
The treatment that’s required, you cannot afford
My FICO score is falling, I cannot get a loan
I cannot pay the mortgage, and soon won’t have a home
My stomach is so hungry, it’s waiting for a meal
The dumpster is in lockdown, I cannot break the seal
The lottery that I didn’t win, The slot machine was cold
The metal detector’s on the brink, I can’t find any gold
The foodbank was depleted, the soup kitchen was closed
The shelter overloaded, the sidewalk overflowed
Comcast just around the block, I could not connect
K-Mart on the boulevard, they had no respect
Walmart down the corner, I wasn’t qualified
Starbucks full of young adults, middle aged need not apply
The hotel was hiring housekeepers, bilingual I was not
Hooter’s at the strip mall, I didn’t have a shot
Unbelievably
Numbing
Experience;
Monotonous
Planning;
Lost
Optimism;
Yesterday,
Everyday…
Demeaning
Rummaging through my overfed desk
of retired rubble a powerless and
defenseless button bounced soundless
to the floor to tread on the brown
ocean of shag safely surrounding it.
It had no immediate individuality,
just rigid and round as if carved
from hard bone. Almost art-like, opaque,
in just the right light. Its size, less than a quarter,
but more than a dime, focused on me with
four unashamed eyes, like the hunter
targeting his prize. A button looks so naked
without its clothing.
I rushed to seek a needle and some thread.
The button both competent and able
for the working class.
But where are the jobs?
None of my shirts require your application.
My daughter’s ragdolls still retain all
their eyeballs. I even checked the
checker set, no pieces on strike,
no need for a scab.
I pinched you in my fingers and placed
you on the newspaper by my bed.
The front page read:
“CAN AMERICA CURE THE UNEMPLOYMENT RATE?”
If you can believe it,
it still hovers ‘round 9.8.
Regina city councillors under fire
For ad campaign’s not looked at prior
How someone did not think to inquire
Check the news if you think me a liar
This province had some odd news breaks
Like the Tim Hortons with the snake…
The moose in the school for hoof’s sake
But this capital city goof takes the cake
I suppose they were hoping for a laugh
Now it looks like there’ll be some new staff
The response may still be half and half
Talked about around the coffee carafe
They’ve taken a lot of flack in the past
Tried to steer into the skid at last
That plan backfired pretty damn fast
A collective face palm, country vast
A headline that didn’t need to be spun
With marketing that cannot be undone
Since the new slogan that they chose to run
Is : “The city that rhymes with fun”…..
** Slogan since retracted by Experience Regina
Still Managed to make International headlines, well done...
We're unemployed we're jobs seekers we're graduate in the streets leaving our hometown for a greener pasture.
We're enthusiastic eloquent and full of vim to conquer and make our dreams a reality. Our reality is shattered we live in anguish.
We clamored for a better tomorrow but see a bitter tomorrow
We're unemployed, merit isn't checked connections trend, youth bellow realm shaken, firmament darkened the cloud rain anguish, talent is wasted merits doesn't count.
Elite rule over and over without a change, change is an expensive commodity the commoners remain at bar without ambitions.
The atmosphere is a venom and uncondusive to the poor masses luxury is for the noble the commoners belief more in religion and afterlife and live in debt without a pay their graveyard is long forgotten without a trace their memories is dimmed.
We're unemployed wealth is for few poverty is for all, unemployment increases every sec graduate increases yearly.
We're unemployed, youth strive the leaders remain silent, street congested ventilation is expensive, the way to stardom looks far beyond Heavens fame is not needed money answered fame.
All this struggle is to live a life without human debt.
An old cow Bholi and it's cub were running
Hard to save their lives from the flogging
A young boy having stick with lather laced
Was chasing them, showering flogs with mighty hand.
Bhola:
Mom, why we are beaten so bitterly?
What are our faults today?
My young blood is running hard in veins
I want to teach him a lesson just now
If you allow me to save ourselves
I can hit him with my sharp horns.
Bholi:
No! No! My dear ,don't do this mistake
For God's sake, Please
First run hard to save ourselves
After an hour hard race
They were facing face to face
Breathing hard under open sky
An angry ox not a cub now
Asked questions for proud now
Why did you stop me to teach him
A lesson in his method, poor cow?
Bholi:
My dear Bhola
Your name and my name were fixed
By my kind master who loved both us
The chasing boy was his only son
I didn't want to hurt my master
So I stopped to hurt him.
Bhola:
What a ridiculous!
Kind master kind master
A homeless foodless
Jobless timid cow
How could you justify it?
Bholi:
My dear son
The master and his son are not our real enemies
Our real enemy is UNEMPLOYMENT
Now i am barren due to old age
And you are jobless due to machineries
The few years ago i gave them milk
And bull helped them in farming.
I couldn't say how much they loved us.
NO WORK NO FOOD
This is the rule of Nature.
Bhola:
If no work, no food is the rule
I will fight against the rule.
I will raise my voice for dignity
I will fight till last breath.
The earth is not only for humans
It is also for us.
I will fight, I will fight
I will strike for sake of you.
Bholi:
Please don't do this nonsense
Nobody is here to hear
You will get punished, dear.
Some rebellious bulls
And their leader Bhola
Was standing in midst of highway
A loud noise for deaf ears
WE WANT JOB
WE WANT JOB
GIVE JOB US or BREAD US with honour
We are not lazy and crazy .
Theirs voices were lost
In crusade of traffic jam
Some cops came to solve the jam
Rebelion Bhola declared mad
Soon they shot down the bull.
stomach rumbles,hush
peanut butter and bread works
hazy days of that
Today they tell me
I no longer have money--
Congress, why is this?
A. Green
Workers all over the country who have been
laid off are no longer receiving benefits. Guess
they want us to starve.
For crying out loud America!.
Because of you I'm unemployed!
I can no longer threaten you with violence..
And I'm really very annoyed.
It's my job to make you fearful..
I'm an extremist and political threat..
But you are shooting each other in mass numbers..
And that was my job.. or did you forget?
How can I now be a Martyr?
You've stolen the World nightly news!
Another mass shooting in America!
Someones bad temper has blown a fuse!
You no longer fear the terrorist..
I'm no threat to the way you live..
However.. you fear thy neighbour..
You'd rather shoot and kill instead of forgive.
Looking in the mirror
A stranger in there
Watching TV late
Absently stroking hair
Playing solitaire at noon
Eating breakfast at four
Getting dressed at six
Crying out; no more
Taking out the trash
Avoiding neighbor’s eyes
Having one more drink
Telling yourself lies
Looking for a job
Desperately seeking pay
Feeling like shoe dirt
Hoping for a better day
The early sun burns through my window
Pointing its accusing rays on me
“Late! It is late! ” It seemed to say
Urging me awake from a slumber
That bears down a heavy load upon my shoulders
Such that I cannot rise from where I lay.
“Late! It is late! ” The sun seemed to say,
The heat annoying as it graze my skin.
Urging me awake, urging
Like a lady who’s kept waiting on date
A couple of hours too late.
What would I give for a couple more hours of sleep
While the rest of the world is frenzied;
The sound of hurried hooves outside scurry
To earn the right for a meal.
Me? The rest of my afternoon looms
Empty as vacuum.
Being suddenly unemployed I leave winter behind and welcome the chance to open the new door to spring.
His oars (mind, arms, and legs)
were insufficient as propellers to earn a living.
In the underground´s nasty passageway;
or was in his life´s nasty passageway?
Anyway! There, he, like an imbecile, sat,
another torn mendicant, holding up his hand to indifferent passers-by,
asking for a gaze or just a word of hope.
Hope! What hope?
- The hope that remains as a candle into his heart.
the little flame that every day fights the Almighty forlornness -.
At night, unanswered the pray
the candle would shrivel;
and he became the symbol of a supplicant without faith,
hopelessly holding up among his hands,
and offering the burned out candle and misery of his life
to others indifferent passers-by.
There, at the underground´s nasty passageway.
Or was it his own life´s nasty passageway?
he huddled and covered with the black cloak of failure, remains sat
in the midst of despair.
Just till tomorrow.