I do not work for love
or spiritual gain:
mostly what I do
is just a pain.
Five days a week
I lift my weary ass
and head for work;
more time in Hell to pass
before the weekend's freedom
and release--
two days in which
to find some peace.
I toil because I have no choice,
I need to eat;
to pay the rent and put
shoes on my aching feet.
Forget the propaganda
of the rich
whose hands are never soiled--
work's a bitch!
A contest entry
- Tip this by luna-midnight.
600 points, ended May 19, 2008, 6 entries
Silver trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 8 of 8
-
This is great Bill and very true great flow to this one that I am sure many can relate to lovely piece that worked well well done to you with this one
-
I cannot do better here than quote Mark Twain:
"Work consists of whatever a body is obliged to do. Play consists of whatever a body is not obliged to do."
Well, it fills in the time between being born and dying, don't it? -
Standing "O" - this is truth that is never put forth.
If you don't have some sort of career you love, those working days can be endless and hateful. I did have a career and loved my job, but all the same, I had the same feelings sometimes. Great philosophy...
Wolfie
-
LOL. You definately have a way with words, my friend.
Well done. Good luck and write on. One.
Dez
-
-
Lol
Ain't that the truth. 37 years at the same job just got to me so I know the feeling. But done as always with class and excellence Bill
-
lol. this has a pretty decent flow..but the last line is what made em giggle and go amen! lol
great write and thanks for entering
good luck
take care
stephanie =) -
Right to the point!
Adding your comment:
1 - 8 of 8
