Go there for your rota
There for your orders
Fill up the quotas
We'll bill for you quarters
Report to your foreman
But watch for construction
Cause if you get hurt you've damaged our property

Did you not read the Company policy?
That defines you as the Company's property
That waivers your say in autonomy
The conglomerates got you in lock and key
We put the dollar back into idolatry
If you're upset you can rent an apology
We're a family forged in bureaucracy
No I in "team" but there's "con" in economy

Were you expecting rights?
Were you hoping for fairness?
My friend you're indentured and pleasure's exempt from your tenure so venture back down to your slum
That's provided at generous prices
Your worth is determined by your sacrifices

A small term of service when down of the surface
Interment's a freebie that comes with the purchase

We work
To earn the right to work
To earn the right to give
Ourselves the right to buy
Ourselves the right to live
To earn the right to die

Starry-eyed, I peeked at you through the shop window
The salesman’s toothy smile was nothing to your new-polished glow.
Your fake leather belts and stiff rubber soles
Made me dream of journeys sans mud, debris, and potholes.

The salesman whispered the ‘discounted rate’ delicately into my ears,
I glanced down at my slender wallet and blinked back my tears.
My feet slid into your gentle folds, a warrior coming home,
I was fifty short but in your embrace, the world I wished to roam.

Your beauty was unsurpassed, though the insoles did itch,
And your buckles gleamed like fairy dust, when the toe-cap pulled a stitch.
You helped me traverse wet sand heaps on under-construction roads
You stood with me on the roller-coaster of rush-hour public transport.

You were with me through the muddy puddles, of early monsoon
Caked with dirt, you stayed alert, through alleys litter-strewn.
You held me in your hard embrace on broken footpaths
Helped me slink through curfew gates not even the cat could surpass.

And I should have known, you were too good for this town
My fake leather sandals with the rubber soles of brown.
As I hung off the bottom step of the spasmodic minibus
Beneath me the buckles ripped, the outsoles gave up.

And I know that over the months, we’ve had our fights
And I’ve said more than once that you were overpriced.
Though it’s true that I think you could have done with a discount
Never let them tell you, our bond wasn’t profound.

All my neighbors know of your tales of valor
What you lacked in durability, you made up for in glamor.
So what if the heels were rickety and the insoles tickled?
The road to affordable beauty with potholes is riddled!

An ardent following,
superseded by disdain
that comes like the aligned
sadism brought by you.
Feel like a failure?
Like the weapons in your brain
have finally run out of power and
that they were fabricated
from day one.
Feel like a failure?
Not yet?
You will never find a joy in
A brusque portrayal of success.
Because you have failed.
They will find out eventually.
They all will.
The trickster is not the manipulator.
You joke.
You are envious, envious of
others, how superficial!
Just like you want to be,
because you fail to elaborate
upon your own promises.
You surrender to the gift
that is moving on.
Just like anyone else!
How could someone like you fall so flat?
High functioning, or lack thereof.
You can fool the weak,
but so can any glimmer of hope.
Superimpose your lies
as you run out of time
and play the demi
in order to fornicate with
the incessant drive rather than
the polished joy that is success.
Move on.
You are a failure.
You are beginning to run out of options,
your only option is surely deceit.
Manipulators driven by the harrowing
sense that tomorrow will bring
inner motivation for another
night of fulfillment.
You, my friend,
are no different.
You resort to illusion because
you cannot create your own world.
You will die by the hands of  another.
Another just like you.
Weak and powerless in the eyes
of those who a greater
than your desire
of
being as great.

The road led down to the edge of a bay,
with waters of blue, on the other side of which lay
what seemed to be a camp with buildings long and low,
and surrounded by fences over which no man could go,
and figures in orange exercising in the yard,
and other figures in khaki who were probably their guards.
“There must be an entrance to this camp of theirs,”
said George to his team with a serious air,
“Let’s drive on up to the top of the bay,
and to the camp’s entrance find out the way,
that we may know just who these people are
and why they have all been put behind bars.”
Eventually they came to a barrier of steel,
intended to stop any entry and to seal
the camp off from the rest of the land,
and patrolled by soldiers with rifles in hand.
George asked them who the prisoners were,
and the soldiers replied “They are terrorists, sir.
captured by our army in Afghanistan,
and our job is to guard them the best way we can.”

from The Adventures of George
©Blair Gowrie (Roderick Macdonald)

The dark man then shouted, “If it’s pork that you wish,
then have it you will,” and hurled the whole dish
at the Maximum Leader who was hit in the beard
and his nose and his cheeks and his uniform smeared
with pork and with beans and chili sauce seasoning
which ran down his face and stained all his clothing.
The Latin cook then grabbed a cleaver immense
in order to protect and come to the defense
of the Maximum Leader, who support did not lack,
as all of his aides jumped into the attack.
A melee broke out with punching and fighting,
shouting and cursing and kicking and biting,
tables knocked over and crockery broken,
this was for George a tricky situation.
But, quick-witted, as usual, he knew what to do.
On the stove there was boiling a large *** of stew,
picking up a cup, and the other cooks too,
they filled them with hot broth which they then threw
at the combatants all, who, burned, ceased their brawling
and fled for their lives to avoid further scalding

from The Adventures of George
©Blair Gowrie (Roderick Macdonald)

At last the sinister stranger arrived,
in a large limousine with windows dark
that no one should see who was inside,
and a small flag in front and a shiny sheen,
every part polished and perfectly clean,
diplomatic plates both front and behind
impressive it was this four-wheeled machine.
Out stepped the stranger and black of hair,
his glasses glinting in the glare
of sunlight shining down on him,
strutting slowly unsmiling towards
the club with all his bodyguards,
short of stature, fat not thin,
tunic of grey and stern of mien,
the arrogant autocrat himself in person
had arrived to visit George’s kitchen.

From The Adventures of George
©Blair Gowrie (Roderick Macdonald)

One of these cooks a woman was,
direct and forthright, and because
her eyes of brown and auburn hair,
lips of red and complexion fair
and steely nerve and smile so tight
and giving orders left and right
made all who worked there live in fright.
No-nonsense style, and assertive too,
while delegating work to do,
should any cook show tardiness
and fail to prove his real finesse,
she would at once her work forsake
and scold him for his laziness.
Yes, brash and bossy she was at times,
wanting to install some discipline
in all her comrades in the kitchen,
and to give to them some sense of pride
in their work and occupation.
Her cooking was plain, no elaboration,
no garlic for her or similar spices,
salt, pepper and mustard were her devices.

From The Adventures of George
©Blair Gowrie (Roderick Macdonald)

Just give me a day, I’ll figure it out
My mind can’t decide what to say
I wish I knew what this was about

Part of me wants to give up and pout
But my heart tells me to try until the break of day
Just give me a day, I’ll figure it out

Some days in my sleep I’ll let out a shout
The words of this poem decide they won’t stay
I wish I knew what this was about

This assignment fills me with doubt
It’s causing my brain to decay
Just give me a day, I’ll figure it out

Looking for a sign this is the right route
But the horizons are faded gray
I wish I knew what this was about

This poem has begun to sprout
In the end it’s finally okay
Just give me a day, I’ll figure it out
I wish I knew what this was about