Long Workme Poems
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So, now, you are telling me your feelings.
But you expect my concern?
Did you consider my feelings?
Each and every single time that you afflicted me,
with your knit-picking first; with your rudeness;
with your discriminatory remarks,
and while you created and allowed a hostile environment
that included two co-workers?
Or while you abused and mistreated me,
and allowed your two 2nd in commands, and your daughter, to do the same?
Did you consider my feelings?
After I shared one personal feeling with you?
Only for you to throw it in my face,
with another subject heading?
After you were demeaning to me; After your inhumane treatment,
and your continual ignoring all of my good ideas,
and my concerns within vast areas of the job?
Did you consider my feelings?
When I tried to have open communication,
only for you to hurryingly pass it all by,
and to act as though the valuable topics and advice that I raised attention to,
that you caused to be turned into complaints,
were unnoteworthy, except for your retaliation?
Did you consider my feelings?
When you socioeconomically abused me?
When you cut my needed hours many times?
The first time causing me to default on payday loans,
that I never should have had to get in the first place.
Also causing me to get behind on rent,
as you became an accomplice to the unlawful and inhumane eviction
that they wouldn't allow me to go to court on?
Did you consider my feelings?
When you cut my needed hours again?
Lying about cutting out the lunch shift, that you would work yourself,
as you then, hypocritically, had four employees cramped in that space,
after cutting my hours to three hour shifts,
causing me to get burned...
Like you actually cared that you caused me pain.
Or did you consider my children's feelings?
As you snidely told me, "Just take care of yourself".
Ever? At all?
Not to mention all the wrongs that you committed against my children...
But you have the audacity to expect my concern now?!!
When you ignored every previous concern,
only to turn around and treat me like crap,
like my feelings don't matter to you?
Obviously,
you expect from others,
what you are not willing to give in return.
The alarm clock signals a brand new day,
So I dress, and head for my job,to earn my pay.
It's a very pleasant morning, as I arrive at WOORRKK!
(Even the sound of that word makes me react with a jerk.)
I show up every day; whether it's in sun,or snow or rain.
OOPS! It's 7:35! Guess I show up late again!
Punch on the clock,and it's time to face the BOSS!
Reluctantly,I reach down,and pick up my daily cross.
Case and pull. Pull and case, while others around me whine!
The only question on my mind:"How long till quitting time?"
I ask the BOSS if she's"selling five" hours of annual leave;
Only to realize, I've no leave left(which causes me to grieve.)
So I face my case, and resume my work, with my head sadly bowed.
Must that guy working next to me , really be so loud?
OUCH! Another elastic broke--and I think that I know why!
But the response I get is,"Not my fault man, blame the other guy!"
Time to pull down and see that all my dear customers get served:
(Though sometimes they yell and complain--which really strikes a nerve!)
At last my truck is loaded, and I'm set to go.
"See ya later, slugs" I shout; then I'm on the road.
Scan my MSPs, and record the mileage and such;
If you ask me, I think this is too much!
I'm in and out of businesses, and running my route all through the day.
Scan barcodes; do parcels,and accountables--oh, and some letters along the way!
I've learned a lot of acronyms, that no civilian would ever guess:
Like NSN;UAA; FOE: and DPS!
But I'll soon retire, and be away from here.
My wife will call "JIMMMMY", to which I'll meekly say "Yes Dear".
I'll be running here and doing that, and fixing everything in sight!
Surely, she'll keep me hopping-- morning, noon, and night!
There'll be no more time for naps;
In fact I may have to work at a second job, so our insurance doesn't lapse!
And when I get old--eh, older--and am in my rocking chair,
I'll think about this job, and the good times I had there.
Reflecting on my career; yes even recalling working with this ungainly mob;
I'll awake one day and realize---I really DID love my job!
Charlie Pelota
I wrote this poem at 2 am last night when I couldn't sleep. I enjoyed writing it
immensely and I'd love to see someone sing it to the tune of Wells Fargo Wagon
from The Music Man and put it on You Tube :)
Uh oh, the Wells Fargo man is a-comin’ down the street
You see he’s comin’ round just to get my home
Uh oh, the Wells Fargo man is a-comin’ down the street,
You see he’s comin’ cause I can’t pay my loan.
Oh please Wells Fargo man my husband died last year
Oh, please can’t you see it upset us awfully
He worked while I stayed home so that’s what I hear
Is the reason we’re in trouble financially.
Uh oh, the Wells Fargo man is a-comin’ down the street
And he’s coming round just to take my property.
Uh oh, the Wells Fargo man is a-comin’ down the street
He’s gonna take it and he doesn’t care who’ll see.
You see, Wells Fargo man I’m trying to sell my home
While you try to scare me with that word—foreclosure.
Now, your bank won’t lend out money from bad loans
While your hands are grippin’ your money tighter.
Uh oh, the Wells Fargo man is a-comin’ down the street
And he’s comin' just to take my land from me
Uh oh, the Wells Fargo man is a-comin’ down the street
Just to sell my land for his own greed you see.
Oh, Mr. Wells Fargo man you were nice so long ago
You signed our loan and you used your diamond pen.
Now you say we’re three months over due, uh oh.
Yeah, you were so nice, remember, way back when?
Uh oh, the Wells Fargo man is a-comin’ down the street
He’s comin' round just to put that note on my door
Uh oh, the Wells Fargo man is a-comin’ down the street
And he doesn’t want to hear from me any more.
I see him comin' down our street with a glint in his eye
He’s plannin' how much he’ll get for sellin’ our home
But Wells Fargo man, we’re not even gonna let you try
You see, you gotta listen to the endin’ of this poem.
Uh oh, the Wells Fargo man is a-runnin’ down the street
You see, he’s runnin' as fast as his dressy shoes can go
Uh oh, the Wells Fargo man is a-runnin’ down the street
My dog, Killer’s, after his ass while we enjoy the show.
There are signs everywhere
From here and there
With all of the hell I caught
From where I've been to
Where I took a stand
To understand that for my life
God you have big big plans
For Nikki all things in my life
Happened for reason.
I lost a lot of me and gained
More of you and did what
You told me to do.
You told me to write.
Sometimes at day...
Sometimes at night...
You told me to let go
And live the life that's
True because Nikki
Along with Dip I, God,
Am calling You. You sent
Me to Baton Rouge to
Get rid of the dude that
Is All About Slime because
Ten years is a long time
To deal with a man who
Was not mine.You had me
Wondering Who Do You Love,
A Love Story In Poetry, when
I went through an ordeal
And fell in love against my will.
Through all of that You were
Right there after getting declined
Seven times in Monroe
You wanted the world to know
That You placed into my
School Days, Holidays, and
All Days That Lie Between,
Along with a sequel to give
Me a fire resume that no other
Administrator hater could say
I did not belong in a classroom
That one along with many others
Tried to take my career as an
Educator to doom with lies,
You helped me give a story of my life
And shows you once again that
I'm wise and at times can see
Through racism, abuse, and
Spreading poverty because
I faced these challenges as
A youth. I learned that
Following the path of righteousness
Is much better than living foul
In my much latest book Trials
Of a Northeast Louisiana Child.
As I went through my life as
The seventh child, with seven books,
Many talents, many teaching certificates,
For my battles learning to let God
Deal with it. I know Lord God today
I saw the number seven in the heavenly
Sky three times. Seven is completion
And the goal is reaching. I know that
All is well. My books will sell.
From miniscule to massive is
My book sales in the future
Because my faith is active
And my diligence is unusual
And only came through You
Because I have stepped into
My destiny and I'm where You
Want me to be.
wrote 11-23-10
To be brutally honest it feels great to be employed
But it wears off quick and I start to feel annoyed
Manager abuses authority
Women work there as a majority
In fact it feels like a sorority
The cycles
The emotion
Cure the curse
Brew the potion
Can't a day at work be smooth as lotion
The guys would think it's great
No not at all
Workin with women make me exhausted to the point I just wanna fall
On the floor
Move no more
I want another job
I don't fit in this clothing store
Hours of moving boxes
Eyes red like foxes
Picking up hanger after hanger
Up up goes my anger
Fingers getting poked from sensoring clothes
I smell laziness under my nose
Back-and-forth I carry lay-a-ways
I shouldn't complain I get paid anyways
Watching the fitting room
Boring full of gloom
Vacuum the carpet last
Only an hour has pass
I can remember everything that just passed
I glare at the co-manager as I strode past
It's days I don't even get a break
I'm so mad my body is like a blender the way I shake
In a four hour shift how much did I make
Four multiplied by 8.25 an hour
I used to make more than that from mama when I cleaned the shower
This is the price I pay for an "honest hustle"
But the whole time, no girl moves a muscle
I haven't eaten in hours my stomach hurts as if I'm in labor
This job is killing me like slave labor
But it's minus the whips
This chump change will never get me the luxurious "whips"
This time the master is African American
Can she, yes she, make the girls work
Yes she can
But privately refuses
The overworking confuses
She's invading my work ethic
So intrusive
I can't get away from this slave ship
So not elusive
No benefits
No pay on holidays
I need a job but also my dignity
I'm leaving anyways
I've gained experience and it's plenty money out there
Never has so much sweat dripped from my hair
Never worked a morning
Man this job is boring
If I lay my head
I swear I'm snoring
I'm glad to be in college
Gaining knowledge
When I get my own business I'll do people a favor
By ridding the world of slave labor
internet doctor
these are my symptoms
This is everything wrong with me
a list of complaints i have noticed
hoping there is something i can do
to bring back my health
and hopefully pull through
Lists of complaints
everything i can think of wrong with me
from my backpain and insomnia
to the shortness of breath
the throbbing in my right testicle
Stress isn't the proper word
but it does go along with my depression
constantly itchy
loss of interest in everything
nauseas from time to time
Nervous breakdown maybe
five months ago
now spiritually impoverished
feeling like i can't take anymore
however the voice in my head tells me i'm gonna be fine
hyperventalating out of boredome
the constant obsession of trying to make sense
out of the confusion
Internet doctor
i'm sure there must be one
a list of physical ailments
just don't take this on unless your ready to realise
i have everything wrong
Herpes New year
Mental health Industry
dirty blood on the wall of a crime scene
medicated to slow down my OCD thinking
Testicular pain
the depression coming back
guilt feelings and regret for a life of being wrong
hard on myself for everything
driven to drink
and wanting to self medicate
dual diagnosis would be a blessing to me
and i would't be able to function on all the different prescriptions
you try to prescribe me
pills for stress
pills for my blood
pills for my heart
pills for my thoughts
pills for the rash
pills for my moods
and now i have testicular pain living in a town with dirty water
they say its not the water doctor
but before you cut my junk off
can i ask you a question
do you think it was the pills?
I dont see the point anymore
suffering is soo much better
im sure eventually you will sell me suicide
to make yourselves feel better
It is assumed that fame
comes after death,
when nobody could imagine
how strong was the thirst
for the dawn's dew;
how solitude was found
to embrace it as a loyal friend!
Has life ever revealed itself,
and let you vaguely peak in:
to satisfy your curiosity or whim?
Visions can't turn into dreams that are blissful,
if the dreamer is not willing to share:
all words must fit into that image,
unless it turns out to be a mirage;
something that can be seen, but not touched!
Tales are transformed into reality,
heroes and heroines without fragility;
I have attempted to create that illusion of invincibility...
by allowing my imagination to wildly roam,
just to discover how it would feel to be admired!
What makes me remarkable...
is the unique talent to mimic others,
to make all my creations credible,
not competing with those whose work is incomparable,
appealing to the more mundane who love vicious lies!
Favored by the common people,
I am not the loud charlatan
or the delirious circus clown,
fitting in a somber novel,
I would write about to ridicule any individual!
Nostalgia don't be hesitate to return,
and make my sealed lips abruptly burn...
who can welcome my arrival, if they won't let me speak?
The notion of fame after death is totally false,
my expectation is not too obsessive to make me lose my endurance;
it is utterly inappropriate for me not to enjoy a victorious moment:
when tragedy can strike me and disrupt the idealistic shape of my concept!
I don't fight for the survival of a brilliant persona;
I only pursue humility and dignity to define what I teach,
not to justify the errors and the faults of my drama!
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
I’m excited, I got a job
I now work for Bob Bob’s Gob Shop
They asked me to stand outside and sell
These white packets, of what I cannot tell
But I was shifting the goods a hundred an hour
I felt alive excited and empowered
Mothers and fathers were buying off me
And giving their kids, who named the stuff LSD
I didn’t hear it clearly at first,
Until I was arrested and that’s when I feared the worst
The police took me to their van
God only knows I tried to run and then… Man,
I got the tasered,
And did a twenty-five second bad imitation of Bob Marley crossed with Jo Fraser
They called me a dope peddler
An addict enforcing meddler
The cops tasered me again and beat me up
Then left me laying in a pile, yelping like a helpless pup
Then took me to a room with a table that had a pile of white powder,
And three inch black sticks they called hash, my mouth went sour.
They questioned me further demanding who was my supplier
As they kept me dancing at the end of the taser wire
I screamed Bob and Bob of the Gob Shop
They stopped and said this must be their under cover job
Just then the chief of police walked in
He looked at me with that we gotcha grin
He took a bit of the white powder and put it on the tip of his tongue
Then with s surprised look as if he got stung
The chief of police quickly picked me up dusted me off and apologised
He said “Don’t worry sir, I’ll punish these guys”
One policemen said “But sir his a drug dealler, selling LSD?”
“How could you be willing to set him free”
The Chief shouted “YES THIS IS LSD, NOW READ MY LIPS”
“LIQUORICE SHERBET DIPS”
Well as a consolation, I got a house and a car out of them,
Never went back to that job again.
Now that I develop the gift of expression
What do I write about?
Now, creativity succeeds in succession,
why do I feel doubt?
I don't know how to write about trees
but I write about poetry with progressive ease.
I want to know all forms and they all tease
To write about poetry and some old oak trees.
It's the passion of Maya Angelou
throwing logs on this fire.
It's rationing pain Ai's brain
and Baraka's new name desired
My heart pumps, the pen flies, fingers guide
the mind to speak aloud, flowing rivers of
simple/complicated facts, page ridden,
with the intensity to hike Denali.
My blood the Nile, earth and rock lead as gravity,
my heart, pumps me to destinations unknown
Whether up or down or all around my body explores
writing... exploring how it circulates inside of me
to keep me alive... a creators way to strive and thrive
I love to write whether its wrong or right
I don't know how
but I write now
and I pray the gift of knowledge repents for me to God,
acting as Jesus saying,
"forgive him because he made it to where
he is is where he's supposed to be..."
I'm here, writing, learning to write
esteemed by my constant effort to speak...
shamed by the amount of time that
it took me to get here...and only comforted when
I am in the process of doing it.
it...
IT...
I love doing IT!!!
Ha! Make love to me poetry, or rough me up
with conviction but never leave me... retrieve me
and lead me to a place where I am everyday
as you do write now.
I'm just starting with you poetry but I must read now
to feed now gravity's leading the circulating river's
of my blood to bring oxygen to my brain so
I can say/write: I love you page and pen.
You know, I thought changing one’s job would be easy,
To start a new vocation would be breezy.
I got me local newspaper, looking for a job as a sparky, (electrician)
But I said “what the F-ck, these ads were written by a sarky.”
The first job was an “Almond Knocker,”
Now this sounds as sleazy as sniffing used jockstraps in a locker.
Who wants to look for an almond the shape of a woman’s top half of her anatomy,
But, looking at women’s breast to find one that looks like an almond, appeals to me.
The second job was a “Blind Hooker,”
Now what can I say, that’s a woman’s job and boy she’ll have to be a looker.
She would be the cheapest thrill you’d ever have
You can imagine the police chasing her as she is lead by her all eye seeing sat nav.
Nope not for me…
Uuhh! Here’s one for me, “Bosom Presser”
Squeeeezing them breasts from the largest to the lesser.
I gave them a call straight away
Only to find out the job was not really that way
Dam!
The next one was, what the f-ck? a “Dike Stoneman”
Well I don’t think any man can
This must be a woman bouncer for a happy club ( I hope this is more politically
correct than saying “Gay”)
The one you greet say “Hey Bud”
Well later I googled the titles and yes you right, I was wrong,
I suppose me old job will be lifelong
Overworked, under paid
Oversexed under laid
Here are a few more jobs I came across, an “Egg Smeller, Chicken Sexer, Pillow Girl
:-) , Butt maker, , Fire Drier (never heard of wet fire) and for all you animal lovers out
there, Frog Shaker, Monkey Tail Puller and those who don’t change their underwear,
a Skid Marker