"Running out the clock"
is maybe the most common term
in American working life.
Trapped, financially imprisoned
between four walls of servitude
on a late Friday afternoon,
we wait impatiently
for our parole from the crimes
our owners regularly commit.
What've we got to lose after we've sold ourselves
to the cold cells of objective confinement?
What've we go to say after 12 hour days
in the callous grip of the wage?
How can we know what we want to be
when we don't even know what we're eating?
When abuse comes beating in cycles, feeding
through the black holes of television sets?
We try our very best to get by,
And For What?
Where do we go to retrieve our souls
when it is we ourselves withholding
from each other?
Little peons slave and toil
To afford their bread and oil
Think themselves independent
Enriching landlords with their rent
‘Never mind’ their want to say
‘I’ll soon be on higher pay’
But rich or poor when clock does chime
They see how slight they have of time!
Still they plod on the machine
Ruled by bosses, sly and mean
Stuck in themselves they cannot see
‘Oppression don’t happen to me.
It hits brown folk in lands afar
I’ve a wife, a house, a dog and car!’
But halt ye peon, stood alone
How much of your self do you own?
Naught! The rich man rules your fate
Steals your labour for his estate
By the time you’re thirty, grim and worn
Your dreams are dead, hobbies all gone
Your soul is grey, your hope is lost
To feed a parasite your cost
All for that foolish arrogance
Pushing down those without a chance
You gave your life to corporate *****
Whilst mocking those on benefits?
Ha! How cruel this web of law
And the warped logic you never saw
For all rulers are ******, after wealth and fame
And you got played at their power game.
So pull your head out of your ****
Stand by your fellow, and your class!
Wage Gap exists
Don't believe me?
Than why did the US Female Soccer Team get paid $2 million and the men got paid $30 million?
Women have made some substantial improvements
I've taken notice
But we still have a lot more progress to go.
Fully supporting the Women's Soccer Team and their lawsuit for wage discrimination. Go get'ed girls, you deserve it. I can't run for five minutes without panting like a dog in the summer.
I've got a headache
-and it's building-
Got a war to fake
-for the children-
Got a smile to wage
-for the country-
Got a sharp tongue
-that hits you bluntly-
I was born to please the glitteratti
Treat them like they’re gods right here on earth.
Whether a Kardashian or Gotti
They think I’ doomed to serve them since my birth.
I’m meant to feed you, bathe you
Live my life just for you.
I’ve got to primp you, **** you
Wipe your royal ****.
And if I move too slow
You’ll call me ****!
I’m so benighted
And I’ve not denied it.
I was born without a soul
And I know I’m lost now.
My life is blighted
And very much misguided.
There is a soul who really
Should know how.
I thought I could gut it out forever
But I found I could only take so much.
Putting up with daily kissing *****
Made me want to retch from every touch.
You are disgusting, thrusting
Your face in everywhere.
Like you are something; you’re nothing,
Got nothing to share!
I no longer care.
I’m not divided
And I just can’t hide it.
I want a life and I intend
To go and get one
A real one.
So get excited.
I have decided
To grow a pair and do
What I know I ought to.
Just 'cause I eat don't mean I waste
Didn't they pick the brain best for me
'fore I came out into the big sterile box?
Anyone speaking anything:
Look at, glare, scowl
Sniff palms before dance party
a little talc, not scary no more
Personality a *****, shoes too big
won't buy new, no new new no!
I'm faking it for a ticket to ride
source my quotes and I pretend
to tolerate your music blog monologue
Come on with me to manifest dreams!
space behind the couch where kief is free!
Couple decades to spare and the **** stacks high
Playing the bucket like a drum
Fair-trade hand-made local organic counterfeit bills
No Mama, I don' wanna punch card.
Dad, I ain't payin' rent 'er union dues
Tax man's comin' eat the root strike it too!
If I was a hippie don'tcha think I'd giggle?
I'm a good choreographer but this costume's threadbare
All the chakras in the world can't melt cold bars
The Black Iron Prison is bigger than God.
I become small, let me be the breath......
The baby's first laugh.
All I know is War;
carnage, betrayal, unkempt pride,
sanguine sin, and sadistic scores.
All my life, strife has set my stride
Still plucking arrows from my back;
can't comprehend the courtesy lacked.
Marching through mires and minefields
to see what the horizon might yield.
No Mercy, no reprieve, no love.
There are no atheists in the foxhole,
but there's no angels up above,
and there's no salvation for the soul.
Like a Good Soldier, I'll fight on,
but I just don't feel like I belong.
All this carnage, spite and strife
is not a way for a man to strive.
All I know is War--
Names may change but it's all the same,
and I just feel like I've been here before.
But I'll keep fighting and I'm not ashamed
— The End —