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#unemployed
I spend my days lying down, that being the bed, a chair, or the couch, because money is important, because I am an Earth stellium, because I need to feel comfort. From the autumnal yard in a rainy October, I had a Gizmo, a cup of coffee, and a cigarette. A senior professional, mind you, smoking and crying, toothless and poor. For I lack fire signs, being no one’s threat, keeping it all inside while awfully sober. From the autumnal yard in a rainy October, I have those I love less than a kilometre away, my sister in Christ, and a new home with my man. He is also an Earth stellium and reads me like a book, eats me like a pastry, drinks me like soup. From the newly rainy apartment in a rented October, I was walking on eggshells, crying for help. “You’re on your own, kid” as his whelp coiled in sadness; no change from his end, no surprises for me. Once, in a hospital bed, he declared, “My life will move on four months after you’re gone,” he was not joking about it, a man of his word! A father to many, a memory blurred.
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Apr 29
Apr 29, 2026 at 3:55 PM UTC
From the yard
Probably at a strange, helpless stage in life, Trying hard to mend the strife. Feels like being lost in a cage, With a heart yielding unlimited rage. Lost in oblivion, starting to self-doubt, Wondering: am I chasing clout? So I throw up my fist, In a hope to comprehend life’s gist. Talk to me in signs and prayers, So I know my paths are aligned and I can understand the layers. ~RitzWrites 🌹
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Apr 29
Apr 29, 2026 at 10:01 AM UTC
The Fist and The Prayer
Nineteen and a half. No job to reflect my adolescent prospects. The prospects in question cannot be a part of my nationalistic expenses. But worry me to carry my heavier body through Obāchan’s home. I react like nerves with every sense I retract the thoughts The ones I am desperate to share “This is why I don’t hang out with them often,” to be forgotten, my relationships turn rotten. Yet the skin still gleams as if the flesh is fresh. Is this me? Is this luck? The boss blames the worker, the worker blames his wife, the wife blames the children and I blame them all. The screen hits my face with strength under covers to be undercover. Poison is my delusion and my mind plays illusions that I am right. I’ve lost my hair tie.
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Jul 7, 2025
Jul 7, 2025 at 1:44 AM UTC
29/07/23
Once I went out to seek for a new job. Only to find out I came home (afterwards) completely mad!
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Jul 19, 2020
Jul 19, 2020 at 5:18 PM UTC
Jobless!
It has been a long time since I worked. I don't miss doing the work or waking up at 4 AM, But I do miss the taste of a well earned beer.
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May 22, 2020
May 22, 2020 at 9:52 PM UTC
Employment pending
The government’s up early in the morning hours before my dreams said their last words ~~I wiped off the cosmos from my consciousness~~ our leaders are up, digging for mechanical gold that sweet fuel for the machines and their automated wealth today, their shovels disrupt Alaskan wildlife refuges tomorrow, your backyard but I’m waking up way later, following the sunrise as an unemployed, unashamed, unresolved and un-unified whole, unpredictable, unfitting man with a wallet full of poems packed tighter than an Earth with twice our population yet still writing without hesitation still drifting in and out of your perception in and out of adjacent trains stumbling over career paths until I land on my face and look up wiping the gravel off hazy eyelids to see the road and then footsteps become moments which become monuments upon which I build a future unseen one day, we will all be free.
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Oct 18, 2019
Oct 18, 2019 at 8:09 PM UTC
unemployed
Holidays are a falsehood we must endure Lulling us into a sense of freedom that We can never own, like the soldier from His barracks or the prisoner his cell, We are all afraid of our liberty, needing Monotony in our lives to occupy the hours Between waking and finally coming to rest Again, yearning for the courage to escape But lacking energy or initiative to act, If ever our chains are cut we become unemployed We lose our identity pulled down by responsibility For rent, food, bills, our social commitments, Turn tail and run, from the very door that We are so afraid to open.
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Jul 2, 2019
Jul 2, 2019 at 6:53 PM UTC
Identity
Ticket, Ticket Everywhere Money, Money Everywhere Everything is Reserved For the Money makers and Rich Want to ride in a Bus, Car or Taxi Or Travel in Ship, Train or Aeroplane Use your brain, my dear Please shell out some money Oh Sorry, You dropped that ugly idea Then what you are going to go? Going to Circus or to watch a film Want to go to a Book fair or a fete Still have to Shell out some Money It's not that funny, O' Honey It's Business, Serious Business Oh No, You can't even go to Public Park Or the River bank either Oh want to use Public Toilets Do you think it's free? No my dear, just Pay and Use You need some Food, Nice Cold drink Or want to sip just a glass of plain water Pay Some Money, Money and Money Money is the religion and the faith Need a Pen to write your pain Again I have to ask for Money We Money monger are the rules You Un-employed are the problem Either pay or perish, that’s a simple rule That’s a golden Rule, Follow it Don't try to break it. If you do I bet, you will fail and fall in jail
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Feb 24, 2019
Feb 24, 2019 at 10:44 AM UTC
Ticket Ticket Money Money
A job for life,    that's what was advertised. But I was just a penny in the slot. Mine wasn't as shinny as the others.      Even though I was on top of my work. Just because I didn't shine up to those above me. Ok, I wasn't the silver coin, I wasn't even bronze.                  But they tainted me, because I wasn't the right side of a flipped coin. And just like that I was the penny in the poor box.. Why was I of less worth than those                        that never excelled..    I never put a word wrong.           never gargling *****          sniffing the cheeks of brown refuse. But still I'm in the food bank,                  like Oliver,          Can I have some more sir... I'll never delve to the depravity of others..          feeding glutinous egos..          They can starve, I'll find a worth among the wasted, and show that I'm more than what's needed.                                                 I have worth.. But for now I'll be on the bread line,                 cooking my own.. And even though now I've not risen,          I'll show what time cooks.. I'm more than my last resamay.. I 'll never understand where quality of slavery             means I'm less of worth...
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Jan 12, 2019
Jan 12, 2019 at 3:55 PM UTC
Never One To Lick Boots, To Show My Worth
i think i've preached a great deal about setting yourself free and going for your dreams but, **** i may actually be left behind by everyone else i've definitely used up all of my excuses
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Apr 1, 2018
Apr 1, 2018 at 1:47 AM UTC
ah, ****
Doom myself to mediocrity, Doom myself for good. Raise myself to excellence, Sacrifice my good. Try to make a difference, Gladly - if I could. Is all that’s left to settle? I won’t accept it though I should.
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Feb 22, 2018
Feb 22, 2018 at 7:19 PM UTC
searching
There was a big heart that beat steadily in the name of duty It beat strongly in the name of love It beat for years beyond expectations Until the evil crows descended First they took a little nibble here and there It must have tasted good For they started taking bigger bites Restricting the rhythm of the beating A new flight landed to join the feast And there was a year long frenzy Soon there was nothing left but scraps Pulsing weakly, yet refusing to die So they got the elephant in the room To stomp across it several times And that worked just the way they hoped What was left was scraped up off the floor And thrown out with the garbage. ljm
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Nov 29, 2017
Nov 29, 2017 at 7:24 AM UTC
30 DAY NOTICE
"You wasting time being productive again" (That wasn't a question) Of course I am "No, I am not" (That was a joke) I'm much more sofisticated "Love me" (I'm trying) You spelled sophisticated wrong in you head I'm sure "have a good day at work" "Have a good day not being non-productively busy"
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Feb 15, 2017
Feb 15, 2017 at 1:48 PM UTC
Productive who
*Being unemployed is like…. Being stuck in a hole in the ground with a broken leg and no cell phone, while surrounded all on sides by people who ignore your very existence, or treat you as if you are less than…. well…anything. Their silhouettes casting quickly passing shadows on the concrete around you. No one offering you a hand. Each time you reach out for help you are rejected coolly and professionally. No one wants a failure, but they also don’t want the responsibility of helping to create a success. The ones who do reach out for you, don’t really care about your success or well-being. They see a quick buck, easy to replace or move past, should you realize you are worth more than their verbal abuse and manipulation. No one wants a self-valuing person either. They don’t even want a human, with thoughts emotions and memories. All hiring businesses want, is a robot to do their every bidding with no complaints, no questions asked, even if that person’s health or sanity is on the line. Or even their life. In a world created by ourselves, we are unimportant.*
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Mar 21, 2016
Mar 21, 2016 at 12:07 AM UTC
Unemployed
I sleep in my cardboard cottage That is my current job. I keep it neat and clean as I can I am not a slob. I have my own place staked out Everyone knows it’s mine. It keeps the wind off as I doze. It isn’t perfect but it’s fine. Part of my job these days is easy; I set out a cup and sing. It doesn’t make me a million But it is something. When the weather warrants it I sleep in the park In the bright warm sunshine; Stay awake in the dark. It seems the citizens and cops All leave me alone Even though they still talk to me With condescending tone, Tsking at my laziness in general Give the charity buck Or maybe a quarter when they see Since I’m down on my luck. There’s this guy Hay Soose But he spells it Jesus. He could spell it that way If he so pleases But that don’t keep him dry Whenever it rains And it doesn’t stave most of the Deep arthritic pains From sleeping under cardboard As his only roof. Watch him shiver in winter if You want some proof. People have gotten to know me As I’m here every day. Some of the even come by with Nice words to say. And, I am used to the noise here; The horns and the noise Of the workaday world of these folks; These grownup girls and boys. Some tell me to go find some work, I don’t get mad and shout. I understand they have some hostilities They have yet to work out. Some of my neighbors here in cardboard Dwell here because they Can’t seem to work life out for themselves In any other way. People fire them from any employment Because they act weird. Some refuse to bathe or maybe it is They refuse to cut their beard. As for me I have had enough of it all; The rattle and the hum. I know society has a lot to offer but I already had some.
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Jan 30, 2016
Jan 30, 2016 at 2:51 PM UTC
CARDBOARD COTTAGE
I sleep in my cardboard cottage That is my current job. I keep it neat and clean as I can I am not a slob. I have my own place staked out Everyone knows it’s mine. It keeps the wind off as I doze. It isn’t perfect but it’s fine. Part of my job these days is easy; I set out a cup and sing. It doesn’t make me a million But it is something. When the weather warrants it I sleep in the park In the bright warm sunshine; Stay awake in the dark. It seems the citizens and cops All leave me alone Even though they still talk to me With condescending tone, Tsking at my laziness in general Give the charity buck Or maybe a quarter when they see Since I’m down on my luck. There’s this guy Hay Soose But he spells it Jesus. He could spell it that way If he so pleases But that don’t keep him dry Whenever it rains And it doesn’t stave most of the Deep arthritic pains From sleeping under cardboard As his only roof. Watch him shiver in winter if You want some proof. People have gotten to know me As I’m here every day. Some of the even come by with Nice words to say. And, I am used to the noise here; The horns and the noise Of the workaday world of these folks; These grownup girls and boys. Some tell me to go find some work, I don’t get mad and shout. I understand they have some hostilities They have yet to work out. Some of my neighbors here in cardboard Dwell here because they Can’t seem to work life out for themselves In any other way. People fire them from any employment Because they act weird. Some refuse to bathe or maybe it is They refuse to cut their beard. As for me I have had enough of it all; The rattle and the hum. I know society has a lot to offer but I already had some.
Continue reading...
60
Prepare for battle, rally the troops. Don't test someone with nothing to lose. That's just my advice, you'll do as you choose. Don't be sad to see go the people you've used. You set off the bomb that you should have diffused. Please just don't speak; we don't want an excuse.
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Nov 13, 2015
Nov 13, 2015 at 12:08 AM UTC
The "Quit My Job" Blues
Curled under blankets with the shades pulled tight, I'm hoping for rain so I can't witness the beauty of the summer day. I think I hate it here but I don't know. I find myself wondering why I had to leave. I wish I was on the wind-shorn coast of Kilcar, tasting garlic flavored seaweed and drinking tea on the bluff after a long day of harvesting.
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Oct 13, 2015
Oct 13, 2015 at 5:19 PM UTC
Unemployment
I see a job around the corner Gotta keep busy while I survive In the country where all the inexperienced get no jobs If they hire me, then hire me as an IT worker. No need to worry I expect replies very soon. There’s a job around the corner, any day Trying to keep my CV and letter together. No one dies jobless anyway Struggling and striving, my destiny is to work Keep myself near the phone, no falsehood in my words. In a ball of confusion, I’m thinking about my daddy Working harder than anyone else, he really shouldn’t have to Family separated, Brothers and sister can’t help me Got me stressing with my phone, it is not healthy Am I **** Tell me the truth I’m looking for jobs, ready to work Running out of money and my mind can’t take the stress, how’s my health? Makes me feel useless, but I see a job around the corner
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Dec 17, 2014
Dec 17, 2014 at 10:08 PM UTC
Searching for work - The Poem
Machine ground days Somehow survived by clinging to precarious plans Die for those. For proles are stuck in a televised gleam but I’m barred from distractions I’m a man of action Spring healing: I found a new hope to get through the day It has a name and it’s you Workday: animistic curses against people and their systems and products except animals would escape forever as soon as they open the cage but we stay The beastly gnashings of overworked merchandisers for invisible self pocket stuffers The competition's getting to us, comrades I feel swindled out of my labor I was pregnant but they sold my child before I woke up Addressing the solipsism of my rehab circle: I’m Kagey, and my life is hazy but, blunted or no, let’s get this clear: don’t trust your senses and that goes for all my human peers Body is a cage full of defenses Still, I’m suspicious of reality whether it’s façade society or the wooden chair in front of me Still, I enjoy the virtual scenery I ain’t talking about on the T.V. or phone screen I mean the willows, buildings, and faces But all these mushy green acres are fakers blobs without our eyesight Still tho, me and the universe are tight.
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Sep 2, 2014
Sep 2, 2014 at 8:00 AM UTC
Cashier Writings on Receipt Paper
You must register with an employment agency, he said through a muffled yawn, to defer your studnet loan payments for the next six months. But don't worry, he continued, clearing his throat and sipping what I presumed was stale coffee, you don't have to accept any jobs that you're offered.
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Jun 1, 2014
Jun 1, 2014 at 2:17 PM UTC
Sallie Mae Calling
I am on a coastline. All of my treasure has become everyone else’s garbage or less. Today I lost my job. Everyone lost their job. Shop closed down. Froze my *** off carrying these guitars back home. There is an island out in the sea. I’m all alone there tonight wondering if it gets colder than this.
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Apr 6, 2014
Apr 6, 2014 at 4:44 AM UTC
"What is a Threshold?"