I wake to a ceiling that never changes.
The light spills in like an accusation.
Time is a slow leak,
dripping purpose onto the floor
where my feet no longer rush.
I used to believe in ladders.
Now I just stare at ceilings
and wonder if floors exist.
I measure my days in coffee spoons,
tiny scoops of borrowed energy.
The steam rises, restless and aimless
like thoughts I never finish.
They settle somewhere I can’t reach.
I used to believe in sunrise ,
Now I just pour the day
and ponder if hours dissolve.
I suit up for stray interrogations
pride buttoned up like a carapace.
Sweat trickles and tickles
like suspicion crawling down my spine.
I drape pantomime across hunched shoulders.
I used to believe in conversations,
Now I just nod my head
and surrender to the script.
I tally stones and crumpled bottles
toss them like failed intentions
into the bin of almosts,
where echoes of effort rustle
like mice skittering down rusty footpaths.
I used to believe in plans.
Now I just trace the outlines
and color them in with sighs.
I crawl toward the bed like a deadline I missed.
Even sleep feels like work I am not qualified for.
shadow in the aisle
where a friend and I
once stood
Neglect not today's win
Optimize God's grace so
Work well joyously now
Protect your mental health
Even on your job
When your employer try
To bully and take advantage
My mistreating you and
Invading your personal life
And space after work hours
The alarm clock sounds off to the tune of Neil Young’s, There’s a World.
A place that is non-existent in today’s life of a constant upwhirl.
Our dreams and aspirations are put to the side.
To get ready for the day of demands and haste for pride.
We enter our vehicles to begin a long drive, tiredness and red eyed.
To a place called work.
That requires you to do the tasks for that special perk.
No time to think.
No time to blink.
Your life is full of deadlines, distractions, until the pen runs dry, out of ink.
For hours on end, is this constant repetitive action.
You’re told what to say.
You’re told what to do.
Colleges are fighting over who is using the offices favorite glue.
We are all in this mess together.
Bound like pieces of sewn up stitches of leather.
All for the reward.
A paycheck to continue to do it over and over again.
Feeling like a dartboard.
Designed, controlled in the trap.
It is the life of a well paid collapse.
Employers why do you
Believe that your business/company
Take priority over
My personal life
When you'll fire me
Without a moment's notice
I work from nine to five
Not after hours
Or while I'm on vacation
I'm not being paid
To answer your e-mails
Or your phone calls
When I'm off the clock
Cross train employees
Hire enough workers and
Do your own assignments
I hope you get the MEMO!
That's why you lose good
Employees
River is running to meet sea,
mountain for touching sky,
bee for taking honey
Birds are flying high.
snail on the leave of tomatoes
sucking flower glaring butter fly,
numberless cricket coming far off
burning and one by one die.
green fields full of crops,
canal dancing near by,
jumping monkeys in the water
paddy fields, hovering on dragonfly,
melodious songs of shepherded,
bleating of sheep grazing nearby,
burning fire sitting around,
touching rosy lips tea and pie,
Jennifer’s uninhibited exuberance filled the room
she had excited zestfulness that swept away all gloom
her sprightly effervescent personality was on fire
the bosses quickly decided she would be their new hire
resumes are a start but, in this case, they threw it away
her ardent passion for their company had them cheering all day
He sat on the corner his back quite bent,
each dollar he collected, he quickly spent.
His sign’s report,
He needed support,
His get up and go had got up and went.
We truly believed things would change
after years of sweat and sacrifice
planting seeds in borrowed soil
watering them with pieces of our youth.
Day after day, we sat in rooms
learning how to nod and pretend
studying to lead, to build
to heal nations with thought and pen.
Month after month, we challenged our minds
told ourselves we were shaping futures
learning to analyze the world
while slowly unraveling our own.
But no one warned us
some seeds don’t bloom in this system.
They lie untouched beneath polished shoes
as we wander office to office
resumes soaked in sweat and regrets
chasing hope down corridors
that echo with the same reply:
“We’ll get back to you.”
Only Losers steal.
Go get a job and earn it,
become productive.
You thought the application was the hardest part
Without actions you have to share your heart
While your talking you're wishing to read their mind
Are their thoughts of you nice, pleasant or unkind
Why do we have to be interrogated just for a job
By looking at me you can't tell if I'm a lazy slob
Yes I'm nervous and shaking trying to impress you
My words and experience is all what's going to make do
Don't judge my past actions and mistakes
Please i was young then, give me a break
Your chance is in their hands no matter what you say or do
I think we all have felt this way when going on an interview.
“The employee shortage is so bad that long haired freaky people can now apply!”
~ seen on a mobile sign
Being of sorta sound mind and long hair,
I dare to compare myself with the supporters,
defenders of the length though “at my age, I
S
H
O
U
L
D”
cut it in a current style to look younger, I’m told.
Stand up. Stand proud. Stand firm.
My hair length does not define my age, my hubris,
my intelligence, my popularity, my worth, or my freakiness.
Whatever… Maybe now I will be able to get a job. LOL
Walking On Eggshells
I’m not putting up with this s###
Always offended
Always the one in the workforce
Always playing the victim
Troublemaker
Just downright stubborn
Treading on water
Walking on eggshells
Anything to set them off
Push them over the edge
Your fired
Looking for the negative attention
Feed their insecurities
Probably in their 40’s and 50’s
They need to retire
Put on a happy face retard
I don’t have time for this
Childish behaviors
Put your big boy pants on
Stop whining and complaining
Grow up
And get to work
I can’t wipe your ass forever
Do the work your-self
Why ask me
what I hope to be?
Why rate my worth
before you’ve seen me work?
Is my CV not enough?
A story told so clear and tough.
I earned my degree
and dream to lead and to oversee.
I’ve been a clerk
and I left my mark.
Each line on that page
holds my skills and my stage.
So why the doubt?
Why push me out?
I have what it takes, can’t you see?
I’m ready to be the manager I’m meant to be.
Specific Types of Jobs Poems
Definition | What is Jobs in Poetry?
Poems Related to Jobs
task, appointment, office, business, career, assignment, work, spot, profession, stint, place, activity, position, post, trade, operation, situation, chore, livelihood, racket, grind, occupation, vocation, handicraft, engagement