Florescent lights reflect off the unshed tears of the multitude. Forgotten dreams float upon them, searching for Remembrance Isle.
But even if they find their elusive destination, they will be exiled once again, by the king called Security.
To him the people sell their souls, everyday as they enter the doors. And once inside they become faceless, nameless numbers.
Its here passions are sold for a paycheck and some disturbed peace of mind.
Ambitions drown in the tumultuous sea of sound, the unrelenting noise of production.
Integrity seeps through the cracks of the floor and motivation evaporates into the atmosphere.
Present and future work side by side,with time the only distinguishing characteristic. Yet no one looks up, looks around, to see themselves everywhere.
And the years unfold in memorized movements.
Faces, places change, attitudes remain unchanging.
Empty conversation dances above the clamor, and stony silence sits upon pieces of shattered pride, friends to your face, foes from behind.
A thousand lives intertwined, yet completely disconnected.
So many lives untouched, so many stories never told, because potential is sacrificed to safety and dreams are the victim of fear.
Responsibility is a god that demands serving and its exorbitant price is reflected in the hollow eyes of its followers.
And within this cold war I stand, a refugee, kept safe by my imagination.
Author notes
well this poem is a tribute to my job lol. Really though I did construct it completely from what I see all around me everyday at work, sad but true.
I am not sure about the title or the strucure of this poem
Comments
1 - 5 of 5
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The title is very good - alliterated and powerful.
I like the style of the piece. Plainly spoken, you let the situation do the talking.
Really, this is very good. I found the ending particularly catching, but the whole thing works well.
In a word: Great!
. Rewarded 6
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Too True
You capture the repetition of our "jobs" and call it responsibility. I love the phrase "disturbed peace of mind" - it is definitely going on my list of oxymorons to remember! I'm so glad that your imagination is keeping you isolated from the attitudes of the intertwined yet disconnected, interchangeable lives. You have compassion for your coworkers as their motivation evaporates and their stories remain untold, which keeps this description from being cynical or sarcastic. Thanks for a sensitive observation of our callous and insensitive work places.
. Rewarded 8
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Very profound!
A true look at life today. Extremely well written. It moves at a pace that makes it a pleasure to read. Did I tell you I like it? Even though I was fortunate to work in a place where the people were like family, some of them were like the ones you described. The line "a thousand lives intertwined, yet completely disconnected was brilliant.
. Rewarded 6
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Prose
It does look more like prose than poetry, though there is some rythm in it and collocations such as drems being the victims of fear resonate like poetry language. I do feel, however, it needs some trimming and that it would souind better if you got rid of common places such as forgotten dreams, stoiny silence, empty conversation. Have you tried rewriting it without adjectives? Just sticking to nouns and verbs would make the piece, I believe, stronger. Anyhow, it is a good description and I can easily imagine the atmosphere of the factory or store where you work.
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