Behold the mighty ego on two feet,
Whose brain is missing, though the suit is neat.
They walk around like kings of empty space,
With pride and panic painted on their face.
They talk for hours and say nothing new,
A one-person trash heap leaking out on cue.
Their grand ideas are small, absurd, and old,
Like yesterday’s stale soup left in the cold.
They open up their mouth to spin a tale,
Of how they fought a shark and rode a whale.
A walking billboard for a cheap brand name,
Where every minor errand wins them fame.
They brag of wealth they simply do not own,
And broadcast status from a cracked cell phone.
The room falls flat, the yawns begin to spread,
While they crown themselves inside their head.
They climb a molehill, screaming it’s Everest,
Convincing no one that they are the best.
A golden trophy made of painted tin,
All empty echo from their throat within.
613.
Santa Muerte, Godmother of Workers
Santa Muerte, Godmother of Workers
Godmother of Workers, oh Sacred Madrina
Bless all workers that they become God's followers
Protect them from harm, our Great Valedora
Bless all workers who contribute to society
Do not abandon them, our Dear Protectora
Protect our workers who help the community
Our workers who believe you, our Grand Patrona.
Amen.
-10/13/2018
(Dumarao)
*Special Intentions to Godmother Santa Muerte
Years of hard work preparing,
Long, rough days and short sleepless nights,
A resolute determination,
And an unwavering commitment
they display.
Countless fun times missed,
A willing sacrifice some say,
No matter the gender,
No matter the field,
Delivering each day
Sincere dedication to hard
work, striving to find a way.
One aim, challenging the impossible,
One goal,
Striving to make a difference,
Saving lives,
Hoping to see a patient’s smile,
Doctors, these miracle workers deserve praise and respect, no matter the outcome.
By Zyrool
5/26
37 Then he said to his disciples, “The harvest is plentiful but the workers are few. 38 Ask the Lord of the harvest, therefore, to send out workers into his harvest field.”
Matthew 9:37-38
Golden Harvest
golden wheat
ready for
the harvest
help is scarce
many workers
are needed
the season
will end, much
will be lost
We have a day like this
To celebrate workers deeds
What shall we celebrate
When welfares aren't well calibrate
Between the retired and working ages
How great our nation has honoured the sages
If nothing is to be happy of
Lets celebrate our perseverance despite the tough
A time will come when workers will jubilate
When wages will inflate
May be to that of the senators
That's isn't greediness or some stutters
It isn't good when we have workers
As professional competent hawkers
Happy labour/workers day to the world
Be grateful when to us the table swirled
I got out of bed
In the middle of the night
My time is not my own
I do the tasks
That are required of me
My own sleep I do disown.
From one task to another
I go from room to room
Making sure everything is alright
I’m doing my best
And often I get it wrong
But sometimes I get it right.
Full-time job
On top of that
The foundations are about to crack
I do my best
With what I have
No time to take a nap.
But at night
I take flight
And my mind visits distant lands
My heart breaks out
In artistic scraps
Which I write with my crippled hand.
I do not begrudge
My lot in life
It is what it is, I know
But my poems and muse
Keep my “feet” moving
Leading me on the path to home.
A baas boy longing for his family uses the Morning Star as a point of reference and a guide for hope.
A Star/Steer poem
The distant star my guiding light shines down
on fields of labor hard and long.
A thousand miles from where my love is sown
I trace its beam and hum a silent song.
It knows the path my weary feet steer back
to the faces I hold so dear.
Does the same star watch over them tonight?
My wife,my children dreaming in the dark.
I pray it keeps them safe till morning light
and leaves upon their hearts a gentle mark.
I promise I'll journey home once more,
Sit with them on our humble floor.
Everyone has their ups and downs
sometimes you win sometimes you lose
come to a crossroads there's no knowing
which is the best path to choose
funny how the way to work gets longer every day
while the road to you is shorter by a mile
it don't make me late it's not the job I hate
and thoughts of you always always make me smile
but about my boss there's really nothing nice to say
with his workers working hard at not working at all
my co-workers shirkers lurkers each and every one
but then I have you to look forward to
when the daily race is run
and the working day is done
everyone has their ins and outs
some days are good some days are bad
go out on a limb and there's no telling
it may be the best day you ever had
everyone wants a happy ending
and I look forward to our rendezvous
my heart knows which route to go
it only shows the road to you
On the Great Railroad to Hell...
Pure Evil...have Private Cars
$ipping on...the Best Brandy
$moking...Fat Cuban Cigars
Dark $ouls $mirk...as they Wave...Bye
Poor Souls Work...and Wait to Die
Sadly...I'm in Hell...as Well
And I Can't tell...Earth...from Hell
When appearing in public as Droopy sad vote needy it just
crumbles just as the millions of others.
Left with a guilty dialogue to chase? Please yourself
and don't for once, your a grown up, you can don't know too.
Please visit Ventura and thousand oaks cities guys.
Bring your spine it has a home here it's missing
Get to work
Make nother talking history hiding
Oopsy building down?
Elected by majority of population, sad?
BEES
social
arthropods
each with its own task
most of them are workers
drones mate the queen to lay eggs
"a union discord can't discard"
NEW WAVE ASCENDS
Workers waul at leaders sold
who rush to airports cold
in hospitals wan women wallow
tattered children nothing to swallow
ideals trickling through untilled soil
will dreams and intentions expire
before patient arthritic grandmothers tire
softly rain filters Earth’s corners
nourishing hills, herbs and mourners
life follows death singing afresh
surely New Wave ascends roaring
freedom showers cool us alluring
in Golden Age Heart rules
teens dance while lovers drool
reach within, be no fool
Many fell asleep.
They slept while many were killed in factories of death.
This allowed for others to take over all of the land.
The system was working, and many worked to death, leaving no time to love and rest.
They fell asleep, under the plan to kill and replace all they can.
They wanted to rule all of the land.
They had a plan to kill and cause pain.
This would allow for them to achieve their plan.
Others are afraid to speak or take a stand.
For life's living
Honest workers
Deserve respect.
gods harvest workers the hungry cry out to you....
let reaping begin
children gather....their tears of hunger in the dust
waiting for full bowls
a band of famish circle their bellies....nursing infant's
mothers thirst
o see the lord's laborers gather grapes and grain....
yes god is so good
eat the produce of the fields....read his word in
bible nourished again
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