We each have a pistol and ammo
Issued by the company
Goes with the job for life
Only way out natural death or suicide
Take your pick you’re here now
I always feel hungry
yet dare not complain
it may set a precedent,
believing I am the fodder
the factory keeps feeding on my
infinite illusions.
The Radio talkback show tells us,
“No one wants insecurity anymore.”
Yet the conglomerates give no guarantee
no “Job for life”
Only a life! For a job.
Perhaps security is with the power
of the poppy or cocoa leaf?
So far, I’ve been lucky
I’ve found my comfort zone
this side of life.
So! Do not weep for me
for I breathe the fragrance of innocence,
my mind remains only
a fragment of intellect,
my musing will never make poem of the day
when my world one of such simplicity.
Yet I see mankind bemused,
multitudes from all walks of life
programmed as corn in the meadow
swaying to a acrimonious breeze,
before being judged within a
clockwork frame, with hearts
that beat in caustic chests.
Frail bodies embraced with wretched minds
tolerance etched upon stark faces,
their promised land dangled upon
the filament of dreams,
while calculated scenarios
bombard their unswerving ambience.
© Harry J Horsman 2020
We’ve put men on the moon and machines on mars
a century ago we’d only just made cars
once on ships crossing seas travelling afar
in 100 years we’ve changed who we are
There were no high rise cities lit up by electricity
no television channels to sit and see
less nudity swearing they censored explicitly
with knowledge and understanding less sufficiently
I think I read once one in three born with a tail
and if you lived passed 50 you’d done very well
you didn’t see foreign lands no pictures just tales
and they still believed in witchcraft, goblins and spells
When you went off to work it was a job for life
and few men got married to more than one wife
they were racist and sexist the class divide rife
overworked and disease we control now took life
It’s another day for you and me in paradise
cus this world we live in is bloody nice
imagine the summer without any ice
imagine your peas without any rice
A job that's appointed for life
Is bound to cause some people strife
For over the years
Annoyance appears;
That goes, too, for husband and wife.
So the Justices of the High Court
Who have no one to whom they report
Should be forced to bow out
And relinquish their clout
Well before they've a final retort.
Though if Ginsburg lives 20 more years
It might quiet a few of my fears
For if Gorsuch gets in
The Republicans win
And I'll drown all my sorrows in beers.
I always feel hungry
yet I dare not scoff
it may set a precedent.
(“My TV’s begging for Africa again!”)
Yet! I believe I am the fodder
everyone keeps feeding on my
infinite illusions.
The talkback show tells us,
“No one wants insecurity anymore.”
Yet the conglomerates give no guarantee
no “Job for life”
Only a life! For a job.
(Not forgetting the analytic “Bull”
upon application!)
Perhaps security is with the power
of the poppy or cocoa leaf?
So far I’ve been lucky
I’ve found my comfort zone
this side of life!
So! Do not weep for me
for I breathe the fragrance of innocence,
my mind will remain only
a fragment of intellect,
my world one of simplicity.
Yet I see mankind bemused,
multitudes, like corn in the meadow
swaying to a acrimonious breeze,
before being judged within a
clockwork frame, with hearts
that beat in caustic chests.
Frail bodies embraced with wretched minds
tolerance etched upon stark faces,
their promised land dangled upon
the filament of a dream,
while calculated scenarios
bombard their unswerving ambience!
© Harry J Horsman 1997
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