job
by mtmynd
Posted to Action Poetry on 2003-05-26 06:09:00
i grow weary of job –
work spent for exchange
…money to survive
…money for fun
(or is it escape?)
i wrestle with the morn
my own bed brings warmth
the comfort of being
with her by my side
but it’s job, fucking job,
that follows the shadow
waiting with it’s offers
of future pleasures
(and i like a fool i follow)
“someday you may retire,
someday you may be set free,
someday… if you are clever
you can cut your ties
sever the fallopian curse
that keeps you to job..“
(if i don’t keel over first!)
i want to work
yes!
but not for you –
you fucking job
making your life better
while mine grows weary
…routine
…routine
…routine
(god have mercy!)
“okay, okay,
have a memorial day-
a day to reflect upon
job and what
you can do to release
yourself from the
battlefield of employment”
ahh..sweet paid holiday. (hah!)