Best Workage Poems


My_True_Identity.Sas

Data Birth;
 INFILE 'C\Fathersperm\Motheregg\9_months\The_One_Of_Shadows.txt';
 INPUT FNAME = 'Yoni'
          LNAME = 'Dvorkis';
    Var Hidden_Meaning = "SAS code is not meant to be poetry you nut job";
Run; 

Data Child;
 Set Birth;
    Where Age >= 4; 
    Var Worldview = Parents_Worldview; 
    Var Facial_Expression = compress('Fear'||'Bewilderment'||'Jews believe in guilt');
Run;

Data Teenager;
 Set Child (Drop= Innocence, Baby_Fat, Cheerful_Disposition);
    Where Age >= 15 and BAC_Level >= .01;
    Var Worldview = (Peer_Pressure * 100) + Favorite_Teacher_Worldview
                            - Parents_Worldview;
    Var Hidden_Meaning = "Where are you going with this?";
Run;

Data Adult;
 Set Teenager (Keep= Anger, Intelligence, Need_For_Material_Wealth, Hatred_Towards_Body
                     Drop= A_Sense_Of_Security_In_An_Unforgiving_World);
    Var Job_That_Slowly_Kills_You = "Healthcare Data Analyst and SAS Programmer";
    Var Worldview = (Company_Mission_Statement + Family_Is_Most_Important) 
                             / Screw_Everyone_Else_I_Have_My_Own_Problems;
    Where Age >= 21 and BAC_Level >= .15;
         If Yearly_Salary >= 100,000 then 
             Self_Esteem = "Now I'm worth something!!";
         Else if 50,000 = 65 and Yearly_Salary = "Whatever's left of Social Security"; 
     Var Cynical_Being = 
              (Why_Did_It_Have_To_End_Like_This  *  Years_Hiding_In_Plain_Sight )
                                            - The_Will_To_Keep_Going;
Run; 

Proc sort data = Old_Man out = Old_Man_On_Deathbed nodupkey;
 By What_This_All_Meant_To_Me;
Run;

Data My_True_Identity;
 Merge Old_Man_On_Deathbed (in = a)  God  (in = b);
 By _all_;
 If b and not a;
Run;

Down and Out

Since I was eighteen
Trying to find a job
I never could convince
Anyone to hire me

Years and years of trips
To the unemployment office
The door of opportunity
Never opened

Waiting my turn
Filling out forms
I got depress knowing
My faith was all in vain

Now the economy is bad
The prospects once had
No longer exist
For those more capable

Never got the experience
To make me skilled
From faces unconcerned
And eyes uncaring

At forty-eight
I write poetry
Because there is no options
For this girl living in the cracks

Always upset, suspicious
Never understanding
Why her life never amount
To at least a hill of bean

That lost little girl
Left behind at age three
Lives on her face
At age forty-eight

Down and out she retreats
To the darkness that comforts
A castle where she’s safe
From daggers of this life

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