Tubal Uriah "Buzz" Butler fought for workers labored in the oil
to highlight the right of safety while in the night they quietly toil
Trinidad and Tobago celebrates his legacy with a public holiday
for his bravery and patriotic journey having paved the way
Every year the labor movements unite and march the street
that the ruling party will understand what demands they must meet
For the brave workers who lost their lives to have them recognized
the day is celebrated with everyone whom are all unionized
The Tariffs
here we go again, in a strong country where most workers are not unionized, but the rich are and the working class has to pay for the wealthy’s expenses, this time in the form of tariffs those who have the business of production can reduce the local market’s cost, but they will not instead, they will jack up their prices because we live in a free society where the lower order has little influence to demand better pay
There will be demonstrations against hard times, the strikers will be vilified as enemies of freedom, thrown into jail on fake charges, and called renegades, and the press will tell us they are betrayers of the American way
Yes, we have seen this before in other countries in another time, but the outcome is always more poverty, when the people are subdued and real freedom fighters are shot on the streets or, on the tabernacle of progress, peace bitter peace will ensue until the state collapses into a civil war
Where have the matchstick men and women gone,
they used to walk home from the smoky factories
just to light up?
Where has the Pork Pie hat flown to?
Even the birds chirrup less sweetly,
Is it because my shoes are old
that I walk this way?
The world has shaved off its hairiness
and lovers are both bold and bald.
Where was the 'candlewick' spread
transported?
Blackpool used to be goofy,
a ton of chilly fun,
now the donkeys are unionized
and all smirched up.
I wish I were silly again, not this
cranky, potted egghead.
Where and when did I scramble myself?
Zippo stole away the matchstick men
that's who,
and they never came back again.
Sad but true now and then.
I declare today
That my body is my body.
No government entity, private citizen,
Or business public or private
Has any rights
Or permission to use,
Abuse,
Regulate,
Deregulate,
Confiscate
Obliterate,
My body.
Law makers and religious shakers
I petition no takers.
My appendages are mine
I choose their destiny
I choose their function
Their purpose
I choose.
I enter no contract
I obay no edict
My flesh is mine
I enter in consensual unions
Without compromise
Without permission
From the state
From the clergy
From any finger pointer or tongue wager.
I declare today
From a starting point of now
Until my end
That my body is my body
I will defend my flesh
My growth
My every carbon
From those who wish to dominate
Regulate
Seek to enlist the state
I am not a part of any collective thought
Nor am I unionized by fear
That wilfully drives to steer
Anything that can be bought
By sanction, or divinity, or code.
I declare today, all days
That my body is not yours
No one shall limit
My abuse or use or purpose
I will not obey
I so declare today.
RESTLESS SLEEP
Again their nose beyond obvious doubt
reveals what's known, the hate is dark and deep
it calls to mind, what life was all about
when all are settled in for restless sleep.
Refreshed with rising sun, our pain goes on,
all wonder is where leaders lead us to,
but by the mid of day, all doubt is gone
and in a vote, our deep is what we do.
The unionized stay joined, throughout their quest,
But sleep is all we think about tonight
to dream of sharks who bite and do their best
to waken us from dark, and hide our light.
And screaming in our pain, we wonder why
All sleep is restless 'til the night we die.
© Vee Bdosa the doylestown poet
A pocketbook of grins
deprived of rightful glory,
passion, and peace
unionized candles
like smeared lip stick
upon subconscious intellect
layered with finite faces
By Glenn McCrary
© 2012 Glenn McCrary (All rights reserved)
We talked, we shared explicit details of our lives,
and he drawn to the fullness of my body--hips like the Great Mother,
and breast round and supple.
He through the glance of his eyes,
attatched his yearning for arousal,
through unseen instinct.
An asessement of sorts, like questions,
of my identity, to harbor love and desire,
and i discreetly wander my eyes to chest.
I ready myself in position, straddle on top,
mount, and feel the moist wetting of desire--
a ponographic mind--for he I do not love.
In the space between conversation, and
desire, an invisible cord bonds two bodies--a yoke
to capture, and to be captive, isn't that the meaning behind physicality,
without the walk down the aisle, without unionized band,
no resounding bells, temples fall to the trembling of Lust,
rather than an image construct of harmonIous weddedness--
a dutiful husband, and a dutiful wife.
Eyes a secret dialogue--scanning private parts, sublty--
an immersion into the language of flesh, and bones.
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