Best Work Force Poems
I have plucked the glory of the brightest star
and came close enough to touch its fingers,
searched the realms that inhabit its womb
or even felt that wildly young adult passion,
that I was inconquerable at 21,,, 30
maverick and a trail-blazer, yet present life
leaves me smaller options in this new generation...
a personal résumé now gauged by the sum
of all my human inadequacies and lost challenges
against mythical idols, godly super-heroes of a work-force,
of a pop culture that in a quest like a holy grail,
I strive to find myself in this new decade, writhing inside
my very core; hiding as a porcelain doll,
face unmoved---just following the crowd:
Fuelled by relentless doubt, I have no name
which can define my worth as a mature woman--
a mediocre artist, a reluctant lover needing to taste
the fire of life after being swallowed by cliché- roles.
Moths nibble my pores, staining my 90s graduation dress...
while the luminous star of individuation passes me by
in a flash as if to leave me naked again,
infertile among dry weeds.
Contest for Silent One
'That was Then This is Now 1/24/2019
Get a job! (Soapbox Poetry)
Reaching your hand in another man’s pocket
Taking your fill, still you’re screaming for more
Limits are reached due to faults in the system
What do our children have waiting in store?
~~~
Why should I work when you owe me a living?
I cast my vote so you’ll pay in my name
Making excuses, yes that’s what I’m good at
It’s never me, someone else is to blame
Can’t take that job, for it’s too far beneath me
Flipping those burgers will send me to drink
I’ll sit at home watching reruns of Dallas
Lost in the sofa and close to the brink
She lives next door and she’s up every morning
Riding the bus so she can get ahead
Feeding her children and wants no assistance
It’s so much easier staying in bed
He walks to work, seven miles down the highway
That is so dumb and why can’t he see
Just a short stroll down the way to the mailbox
All that you need will be given for free
Look at the news, the work force is tanking
Why even try when they hand me the cash
Maybe some food and a six-pack of Miller
Leaving enough for my getting high stash
~~~
It is so sad the state of our nation
Laziness now is a medal to wear
Please bear in mind this is just my opinion
Just a few thoughts that I wanted to share
Ok, I know I will get some flack for this and yes, many, many do need assistance because of health problems, disabilities, etc. I have no problem with that, but just as many take advantage of the system, making it tough for those who truly need it. I work hard for a living and I know there are jobs out there if people want to do them. Maybe they aren’t glamorous or what some saw themselves doing, but they are out there.
Seems as a country full of saints and carriers of purity
as all crimes are interestingly attributed to outsiders
tagging them the influential teachers of immorality
yet such crime lovers show the capability of posing a threat
through the embarrassment caused on locals due to their industrious nature
Understanding the half-hearted privileges such a partial acceptance offers,
settlers become more creative, hardworking and productive
with limbs running on entrepreneurship, trade and commerce
while citizens comfort themselves
in the exaggerated pride of their home soil
which results in a war without cause or reason
The government ought to be a job creator
but how ironic, internationals are paying dearly for it.
It is claimed that foreigners are the thrombus in the channel of employment.
Yet these hated people
are self employed with shops, businesses and service centers
which are destroyed as a form of remittance of some sin
Every nation has her share of international mixture
yet a lot do not debase them as foreigners or aliens
the one down south of the dark island of all countries should be the least,
considering the continent’s role in its history,
irrespective of what her excuse may be
Look inwards if strangers are preferred in the national work force,
to find some answers- you angry mob
Examine your home, if passers-by enjoy more of the milk it produces.
Why target and shoot at the tree
when the bird is left alone to dine and sing?
Policemen catch fun while a soul converts to black coal,
humans lynched like a left over meal from vultures,
businesses ransacked and turned into forceful philanthropy,
these are evidences of character built on a very low budget.
If those responsible do nothing about social development,
With or without these ‘aliens’, the economic problems will still prevail
I'm no good at setting clocks,
don't enjoy sending faxes
but if you'll bring your info,
I'll calculate your taxes.
I scream at my computer,
could take a hammer to it
but give me a tax problem,
I'll work my way through it.
Can't program my cell phone,
don't even want to bother.
I'm busy doing tax returns
for everyone's big brother.
Kids’ve joined the work force,
brought me their W-2's
wanting all their money back,
"Mom, see what you can do."
Now they own businesses
I'm preparing Schedule C's.
I want out of this trap,
I'm dying by degrees.
Grandkids’re growing fast,
beginning to earn dough,
and Grandma's growing old,
lazy, decrepit, and slow.
cfa ? 3/14/2010
‘‘ ...GO TO THE ANTS AND BE WISE.’’
Man's world,his words,man's Imagination:
Man's braggdocio is laughable,
He proclaims himself the wisest
But when we look at him,his ego;
We conclude: self praise is crap .
What is news to man
That has not aged with us?
What is his astonishing wonder
That is not a native of our colony?
Does it not baffle him,
Where we find water to erect our temple?
If only he knew the number of chambers beneath
Then he would realise his pride burgs
Are nothing but mere immitations.
The industrial revolution he prides
Tell me, how old is it with him ?
Behold , from the dawn of time
We feed this colony with bread
Baked from the ageless industry
‘‘Anted’’ by our able work force.
How often he cries of idle hands !
How many of them are not empty stomachs?
We only look at them and laugh;
Though in hundreds of thousand we live,
Every hand here is happily engaged.
When Smith taught him division of labour
Did he claim to be our teacher also ?
Yet from the time immemorial
Ours is established division of labour :
The queen , the soldiers , the workers.
His vessels at sea ; and so ?
When we choose to migrate
On top of seas we sail afloat
Defy gravity , defy tempest.
What is man’s jet that man is proud of it ?
Does he not see our wingers in the air daily ?
We do not crash like captain Tom and Jerry,
The first class graduates from his aeronutical institute.
Some of them brag of their arsenal ;
We have this information for them :
Snails , snakes and rodents
Whose generals once brought war to our nest
No sooner they came than they enriched our sausage.
But when men carry arms against men
And bomb one another at will
In our feeling we petition :
Where is love among Adams ?
Under our one roof thousands live
No gun shot, no bomb blast ;
No protectionism , no sectionalism;
No white , no black;
No race , no tribe , no ethnicity;
No any chicanery that characterises
Man’s daily life.
Man's world, his words; his Imagination?
For how long will he debate with God?
He insists : I am the wisest;
God insists : ‘‘... go to ants and be we wise.’’
I see a green tree. It is all I want.
A dry rocky mountain and a hawk
satisfy. To die spiritually in
the hot sun and the body go on
climbing. To take the paths among
the rocks and mahogany bush.
To feed on rock lichen and blue
sky. To not need a house.
To leave my mind in the foothills.
To climb everything but blind. In
the deer shade of the cool aspens.
Forgotten by the work force and the shrew.
Bored as a badger disturbed at
its stream. Free singing as the stream
cutting the gorge. Cool as a hummingbird
in its wet spray. Caterpillar fur.
I stay in the mountains unknown.
The roof soot of the city calls me back.
The museum women shaking their bodies
at the stuffed tigers. The meditating
curators and entrepreneurs. Burro.
* * *
Old Basho, early Spring, took fond leave of his friends,
closed his small house at edge of village,
and with one peasant companion climbed the long narrow road to
the North.
Blessed morning!
the day I left life behind
but not this world of dew.
Have you seen dudes feed their dates on straw or hay?
I have! I have been through the States of usa!
A society watched aghast at the Kentucky Derby
As the jockey got half-mast and Ken snuck into Barbie.
Now hand in hoof they trot along
Love's aloof, is it ever wrong?
So Ken was fined then he married that lady horse
Taken nine months carried holding baby Centaurs
I'm guessing the vicar's even sicker
The blessing of Love he delivered.
With softly diverted silken manes
From a Godly pervert hidden in Maine
They look nearly perfect kids, in their reins
They've got four legs like a table
You won't fit them in a second hand cradle
Their Dad is Short and Odd, but Mum's more switched On.
Would they be employed by Horse's Resources
When they were deployed to the work force
Would it be classed a win in the awful rat race
To have a stable relationship in a beautiful place
Paddocks of green, Haydock seems keen
I just hope they are tame with Neigh-bours
Why the long face? Smile your famous!
With that much dough they could bake thoroughbread
With lots to plough, they'll be well fed
Could his favourite drink be Red Rum
Would his feet clink when he wiped his bum
He'd definitely not be all fingers and thumbs
Not to mention what his wife says, about his tongue.
His life story mate you would have to witness
Cos no bookmaker could ever print this.
before labor unions came into existence businesses were run like monarchies
where those in positions of power treated the workers atrociously
no sick days, no overtime, no vactions and no minimum wage
and some work place conditions were worse than an animal's cage
but throught the grace of God and American ingenuity
the laborers joined together and the unions came to be
organized for the advancement of the shared interest of the work force
a confederation of laborers who at one time had no recourse
fired without cause, no work injury compensation and hardly a lunch hour
but with the labor unions now in place the workers have a measure of power
bargaining for health insurance and decent salaries
negotiating for better conditions and job security
thank God for the unions as collectively we band
one for all and all for one, united we now stand
It would be disingenuous to say that Ingenium did not have a bacon, egg and cheese sandwich for breakfast. It would boarder a lie to claim the same deity did not begin their morning exercise with a job through the unexplored corridors of the memory and imagery. The halls of memory are charted to an extent, but the cathedrals hidden down the vast tunnels of imagery seem always foreign and new. There Ingenium stopped to smoke a cigarette, leaning against a door marked "wooden". Neighboring this door were others, each with a replaceable placard screwed into the hard-wood. "Plastics" one read. "Trees" read another to Ingenium's left.
Propped up by the "wooden" door, they watched blurred figures move behind the tinted glass window of the door before them. Dark letters were craft-fully painted onto the glass: "Office Furniture". There seemed to be an argument over vague physics terminology being held between two shadowy characters in the office space beyond the tinted glass. The abstract entity could only make out a few mumbled words, something about work force equaling applied pressure divided by ambition over availability. The banter failed to impress Ingenium, and the muse snuffed its cigarette against the oak molding of the "wooden" door before continuing its job.
They passed other more decorative doors like "religion" or the red-white and blue striped door labeled "politics". It wasn't until Ingenium reached the door to the self that they stopped and released a sigh. Reaching down with unfathomable presence, Ingenium turned the red glass door knob and opened the door before it. A world of light and darkness poured out, flowing through the deity like whey through a screen. The curds that collected there were the substance of the soul. The cheeses that we ate that night were the mana of life, to be consumed today and gathered again on the morrow.
THE WORLD SHOULD BE PEACEFUL.
Nzongi N. Mwero.
Cell phone +254727254534.
Peace! Peace! Peace! Peace!
The world should be peaceful,
And let everyone be cheerful,
Make the world powerful,
And its people be greatful.
A country where people don’t get robbed,
A country where people don’t get conned,
A country where people don’t get favoured,
A country where people don’t get murdered,
A country where people don’t get scared.
A Nation with no fights,
A Nation with pretty sights,
A Nation with wide cultural and visual arts,
A Nation with preferable diets,
A Nation with balanced fixed assets.
A Nation with no pollution,
A Nation with well fed population,
A Nation with heavy commercial transportation,
A well trained work force nation,
A Nation with no commotion.
I would like the world to be free from tribalism,
I would like the world to be free from terrorism,
A Nation with varied history of mankind’s development,
And successive civilizations,
With a wide range of cultural horizons,
That enriches the individual personal resources.
Think of the world without any fight,
Oh my, what a sight,
The world should be peaceful,
And let everyone be cheerful,
Freedom! Freedom! Freedom!
Let the world be a heavenly kingdom.
“Mr. Edwards please make your way to the managers office,”
James could picture her pimply face as she expressed each syllable from her orifice.
The twenty that walked down the isle to his office were laid off,
A young blooded manager was reducing the work force, his name, “Mr Scoff.”
How Ironic,
Sitting in his flashy office drinking Gin and Tonic.
James walked the death row isle,
His colleagues faces staring helplessly, none with a smile.
Architecture was his life and this was the end it seemed,
His pencil would not draw another success for Designer Beam.
The old carpet’s familiar crunchy sound,
Under his shoes many happy memories of the now ghosts that paced up and down.
The walk seemed longer this time, then he paused at the door for a while,
He briefly turned to see the head peaking over the partitions, none offering an
encouraging smile.
James faced the door, cleared his throat before knocking and with a bowed head he
went in,
Faint murmurs were heard outside as if debating a his fate for a cardinal sin.
Mr. Scoff’s scornful laugh was heard through the door,
Then absolute quietness, nothing was heard any more.
An hour later Scoff walked down the isle,
With his briefcase in hand daring someone to smile.
Fifteen minutes later, James quietly came out
Everyone looked at him questioningly, none knew took place or what it was all about
He turned and removed Scoff’s name from the door
And replaced it with Mr. J.C. Edwards Lotto winner, say no more...
Gay people should get anything any pair want: a house, some cars, some money-making jobs,
the works. I believe in gay rights because when I see gay people, all I'm seeing are
people; normal people just like any other American. What's so great about gay people (gay
and lesbian couples) is that they're open minded unlike the ones who are judgmental. And
since I have no problems having gay friends, I guess that makes me a supporter of gay
rights. Some of them are against same-sex marriages, but some of us aren't. The other
greatest part of supporting gay rights is that I will have been a supporter of the Lesbian
Gay Bisexual and/or Transgender (LGBT) community, as well. I want to say that these bad
people really shouldn't just judge these people because of their sexual orientation, but
under no circumstances are they ever allowed to violate the rights of all same-sex
couples, just because the guys are gay and the women are lesbians. I'm for gay rights;
these people should also be for gay rights. If these bad people have a problem with gay
people, that's their problem, not ours. And if all gay people are going to get into the
work force,get into real estate, and/or whatever, then by all means, let them stay. Gay
rights forever! Let's be open-minded for all.
Human suffering via the lens of social injustice juxtaposed to the same past.
Enslavement, slavery, and Indian removal from their sacred lands
Who hands are damned?
The universe is included.
Terrorism
War
Famine
Political asylum
All compare and contrast.
Historical movements for the cause,
Today we are a backwards spiral - no joy.
As nations of people become one in a country, the government becomes corrupt.
Are we the democracy that embraces tyrants?
Lack of equal protection of the Law
No due process going on
Just a picture of corruption
Religious emergence has occurred.
Social Theology is the covenant.
However, no one wants to face-up to the capitalism that has self-destructed.
Personal recourse is not within an Ayn Rand world
That belongs to the work force.
I pledged alliance to our spirit and our soul when I was child preparing to enter the
business world.
This agreement was written in the Preamble.
Why is it today ignored?
________________________|
Penned on May 05, 2014!
Skyscrapers, our societies pyramids
Built with a work force in need of these jobs
But these meaningless buildings are made for the boss,
Where the only way to lift your spirits is to take the elevator
To your top floor universe,
Amazing the 10 feet distance between us
Determines that we are the losers
And our worlds should all orbit around you
This constant cubicle blues,
Yet you sit there with your own good news,
Your going golfing today!
Oh, wait, that’s everyday
And we’re tired of being the calls you put on hold
Because some how our happiness was sold
For your new vacation home
But we’re done with listening to your dial tone
We know it’s about the survival
But we are the ones in need of revival since you don’t help anybody
Your desk is our captor and we are societies slaves
Why do you always choose the money
When it’s printed in the millions
But each person is 1 in 7 billion
And your children have no one,
You started an epidemic of sad teens
With an incurable disease called loneliness
So why don’t you swivel in your chair and turn the other cheek
Cause we’re already too far-gone to keep up this life of lies
This will be our demise
How are we supposed to fill shoes full of infamy
And rubber soles that are empty
Secrets, that you never told until you were proud enough
We don’t want to wear this straight jacket you call a suit and tie
Because all it’s meant to do is clip our wings so we can’t fly
How can you sit at your breakfasts with blood on your fingertips
When that meal could’ve saved three families
It’s clear to me you don’t need me
Your love is only a formality
Which is almost comforting at least you’re still capable of niceties
But I’ve learned the true distance between our floors
Should be measured in galaxies