It seemed pathetic and terrible to me and it still does, that men and women work eight hours a day at jobs that bring them no joy, no reward save a few dollars.
quote by Hortense Odlum
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
We need to work together, on a bipartisan basis, to create new jobs, increase job training, enact real and substantive middle class tax relief, and reward companies that create jobs at home.
quote by Ruben Hinojosa
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dust Bowl
[ music: robert buck/words: natalie merchant ]
I should know to leave them home.
They follow me through the store with these toys I cant afford.
Kids, take them back, you know better than that.
Dolls that talk, astronauts, t.v. games, airplanes, they dont understand and how can I explain?
I try and try but I cant save.
Pennies, nickels, dollars slip away.
Ive tried and tried but I cant save.
My youngest girl has bad fever, sure.
All night with alcohol to cool and rub her down.
Ruby, Im tired, try and get some sleep.
Im adding doctors fees to remedies with the cost of three days work lost.
I try and try but I cant save.
Pennies, nickels, dollars slip away.
Ive tried and tried but I cant save.
The hole in my pocketbook is growing.
Theres a new wind blowing they say, its gonna be a cold, cold one.
So brace yourselves my darlings, it wont bring anything much our way but more dust bowl days.
I played a card in this weeks game.
Took the first and the last letters in three of their names.
This lotterys been building up for weeks.
I could be lucky me with the five million prize, tears of disbelief spilling out of my eyes.
I try and try but I cant save.
Pennies, nickels, dollars slip away.
Ive tried and tried but I cant save.
The hole in my pocketbook is growing.
Theres a new wind blowing they say, its gonna be a cold, cold one.
So brace yourselves my darlings, it wont bring anything much our way but more dust bowl days.
song performed by by 10000 Maniacs
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Because the truth is, today's immigrants, as they have for generation after generation, work the longest hours at the hardest jobs for the lowest pay, jobs that are just about impossible to fill.
quote by Luis Gutierrez
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Queen Bee Syndrome
If only more women take jobs
And if only more women get to posts
How warm the environment would be,
All men at work mused long ago.
Women are supposed to be
Collaborative and considerate,
Exercising womanly kindness.
But Queen Bee Syndrome is the outcome.
(17.03.2011)
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Me
I hear you talk about your family life
I wish I knew just what that means
I guess my mother never loved my dad
And now I wear it on my sleeve
My sister called me just the other day
It felt so good to hear her voice
My problem is I dont have much to say
I guess she doesnt have a choice, and Im sorry
Look at me Im so pathetic
I cant believe Im just an addict
Ive never needed anyone to help me
Im begging you to please come save me from myself, save me from my...
My mothers always tried to change herself
She never learned to let things be
She doesnt know how bad she messed me up
cause now she seems so fake to me but I love her
Look at me Im so pathetic
I cant believe Im just an addict
Ive never needed anyone to help me
Im begging you to please come save me from myself, save me from myself
If you push me then I wont fall
Ive been programmed to take it all
And shove it way down inside
Like my father (2x)
Im so pathetic
I cant believe Im just an addict
Ive never needed anyone to help me (Im failing it)
Im begging you to please come save me from myself
I hear you talk about your family life
I wish I knew just what that means
song performed by by Staind
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Like Scraped Up Dust to Save
1-2-3 and,
Put-your-dollars-in-your wallet,
And pretend its vacant paper!
Like scraped up dust to save.
And...
Put-your-dollars-in-your wallet,
And pretend its vacant paper.
To e-vap-orate like vapor.
And...
Put-your-dollars-in-your wallet,
And pretend its vacant paper.
No-longer-to-savored.
To 'trip' on treasured capers.
And...
Put-your-dollars-in-your wallet,
And pretend its vacant paper!
That's all it's worth today!
And...
Put-your-dollars-in-your wallet,
And pretend its vacant paper!
Like scraped up dust to save!
1-2-3,
Like scraped up dust to save!
And...
1-2-3,
Like scraped up dust to save!
And...
1-2-3,
Like scraped up dust to save!
And...
1-2-3,
Like scraped up dust to save!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Acquitted Lips
I once had thought them miserable.
Ones I hated to kiss.
Too much truth came from them often.
And I resisted.
But today I am not as obstinate.
Today I listen more than a bit.
Instead of panicking in denied fits.
Unable to handle the honesty of it.
I feel pathetic I had rushed away,
From your truthfulness.
I feel pathetic but take credit,
For your acquitted lips.
I feel pathetic I had rushed away,
From your truthfulness.
Since it's obvious now,
You were the one to take risks...
To save me.
I once had thought them miserable.
Ones I hated to kiss.
Too much truth came from them often.
And I resisted.
I feel pathetic I had rushed away,
From your truthfulness.
Since it's obvious now,
You took such risks...
To save me.
I feel pathetic but take credit,
For your acquitted lips.
Since it's obvious now,
You took such risks...
To save me.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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As southeast Texas's only Member of the House Transportation Committee, I'm especially proud of being able to help bring hundreds of millions of dollars to the region to create jobs and improve the area infrastructure.
quote by Nick Lampson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Work For Woman
Woman, sitting at your ease,
In the midst of luxuries,
Bound by chains of selfishness,
With no aim but 'how to dress,'
Does the thought ne'er come to you
Of the thing that you could do?
Could, and yet do not,
To crush out the liquor trade,
That is making, and has made,
Sin and shame, and woe and tears
In our land, for years and years-
Have you never thought?
You will chat for hours and hours
Over ribbons, silks, and flowers,
But you will not talk or think
Of this growing evil-drink.
You will weep and smile and laugh
Over trashy books of chaff,
But you will not read
Any truthful temperance tale.
'They are all so dry and stale-
Just the same old thing,' you say
As you yawn, and turn away
From the truths you need.
You have time for rout, and ball,
Concert, theatre, and all
Lectures, save on this one theme.
'Oh! these temperance lectures seem
So extremely dull,' you cry,
With a listless air and eye.
O my friend! forsake
That absorbing theme of DRESS,
Drop for once your selfishness,
Think of all there is to do!
See the work that waits for you!
Up! arouse! awake!
There are men for you to save
From the wretched drunkard's grave.
There are feet that strayed away
Into paths of sin one day.
You can bring them, if you will,
To the paths upon the hill.
There's enough to do!
There's much to do and little done,
Women, sisters, every one,
Lend a helping hand, nor shirk
Any part of God's great work.
Come! we've need of you!
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Jobs?
Jobs?
They don't want jobs.
Not the ones they exclaim,
Can make a down payment...
On credited fantasies.
And they want to be able to pay for them.
They want money.
And lots of it.
They are above pushing a broom.
They've been spoiled by 'entitlements'.
That's why those who created those jobs,
Found a cheaper way to produce their products...
Now being made overseas.
With more sweating they get,
From grateful and pleasant employees.
Not discussing their retirement plans,
Or increments of expected raises.
Those employers wanting to survive,
Have prioritized their needs as well.
With a paying of those interested in creating quality...
And not those more involved,
In discussing where they vacation...
During a two hour lunch break.
While complaining what the boss makes...
Or who shops where for a price making eyes pop.
As they within eight hours do exactly what they please.
To leave a job before it is time...
Completing nothing that is due.
Jobs?
They had jobs.
And complained 'aliens' were taking them away.
When blacks began getting tips waiting on tables,
It was soon discovered how they were no longer qualified,
To do menial work.
Since 'some' folks began to realize,
Those menial positions could become very lucrative.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Plight of Working Men
Work, work, laborious work
has taken its toll on men.
Their backs all sweaty,
their hands all chafed
and all their fingernails, ten
Caked with dirt, caked with grime,
unable to keep them clean.
Their arms are weary
at day's end.
Their legs are lank and lean.
Their shoes they leave right at the door,
a reminder of what they do.
Back-breaking jobs
to earn their pay,
jobs that are never through.
And yet they hold back
whines and complaints
and suffer in silent ways.
In the house that is their nest
their voice they will not raise.
Tired bodies and burned out dreams
have stopped the hopes of these men.
They methodically work
their laborious jobs
and wait for their days to end.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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So Much To Do
The face of the world is a homely face,
And the look of the world unkind,
When harsh on your arm a hand it lays
And bids you into the grind,
That 's little to your mind, my dear,
That 's little to your mind.
But it 's work that counts in the world, you see;
Not what we dream, but do:
For the dreamer of dreams, whatever he be,
If he 'd have his dreams come true,
Must be a workman, too, my dear,
Must be a workman, too.
So much to do; so much to know;
So much that life would shirk!
But each is one of a hive below,
The world's great Hive of Irk,
Where each must do his work, my dear,
Each one must do his work.
A song, a look, a word of cheer,
Will help more than a sigh!
For this is the law of the hive, my dear,
That every bee must try, my dear,
And all the drones must die, my dear,
That all the drones must die.
Oft-times it seems that the end is far,
And the work we do, in vain;
That night will never reveal a star,
And day bring only rain,
To trouble our hearts again, my dear,
To trouble our hearts again.
But ever the stars are shining there
With ever the old regard;
And be it foul, or be it fair,
However long debarred,
All work has its reward, my dear,
All work has its reward.
Could summer come without the rose?
Or morn without the sun?
And thus shall toil bring soul's repose
To each and every one,
Whose work at last is done, my dear,
Whose work at last is done.
For the face of the world is a homely face,
But the look in its eyes is kind
To him who sets his heart's brisk pace
To the work he has in mind,
And turns not with the wind, my dear,
And turns not with the wind.
poem by Madison Julius Cawein
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Intervention Allies
When john howard said
let’s have an intervention
the women shouted yes!
we’re sick of the drinking
the weekend footy trips away
happy hours in hotels
without bringing their pay home to us
and sometimes losing their jobs
when they don’t know when to stop
we’re sick of the sarcasm
the fights the occasional black eye
their priority for their mates
over us and the children
we’re sick of their drunken breath
exploding in unjustified abuse
the words that can’t be retrieved
when he crawls back into bed
Yes the women shouted
let’s have the intervention
The Aboriginal women
weren’t so sure
poem by Ali Eckermann
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Women
I love women, I think theyre great
Theyre a solace to the world in a terrible state
Theyre a blessing to the eyes, a balm to soul
What a nightmare to have no women in the world
I love women
I love women
I love women
We all love women
I used to look at women in the magazines
I know that it was sexist, but I was in my teens
I was very bitter, all my sex was on the sly
I couldnt keep my hands off women, and I wont till I die
I love women
Ah, I love women
We love women
We all love women
A womans love can lift you up, and women can inspire
I feel like buying flowers and hiring a celestial choir
A choir of castratis to serenade my love
Theyd sing a little bach for us and then wed make love
I love women
I love women
We all love women
We love women
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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One might think that the money value of an invention constitutes its reward to the man who loves his work. But... I continue to find my greatest pleasure, and so my reward, in the work that precedes what the world calls success.
quote by Thomas A. Edison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Four hours of makeup, and then an hour to take it off. It's tiring. I go in, I get picked up at two-thirty in the morning, I get there at three. I wait four hours, go through it, ready to work at seven, work all day long for twelve hours, and get it taken off for an hours, go home and go to sleep, and do the same thing again.
quote by Peter Sarsgaard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Smile?
'Smile.'
Said the girl.
''Smile?
How am I to smile?
I've lost everything.
Everyone..
Him.'
'Smile.'
'Smiling is forgotten.
To smile is to bring pain.
Why would I bring pain to myself?
Why? ..'
'Smile?
How pathetic..
How pathetic am I? '
'I can't even smile,
not with out reminder.
Smile...
How can I smile?
Please...
Someone make me smile..'
poem by Hidden Soul
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ode to the Modern Work-Man
O, wretched modern work-man
The years, they pass you by
Everything you believe
Is nothing but a lie.
O, wretched modern work-man
From your neckties to your socks
You’re nothing but a slave
To pictures in a box.
O, wretched modern work-man
You live for the Public Eye
Your life is but a parody
Whose foundation is a lie.
O, wretched modern work-man
You strive, and save, and yearn
To keep up with the Kamaus
Spending more than you earn.
O, wretched modern work-man
You’re nothing but a slave
Your dreams are dead and buried
Lying in a shallow grave.
O, wretched modern work-man
You strangled your own dreams
You smothered your own happiness
Your hand stifled its screams.
O, wretched modern work-man
For the camera so aesthetic
Beneath the plastic smile
You’re pitiful and pathetic.
O, wretched modern work-man
You work yourself half to death
Chasing pounds and shillings
To swell another’s wealth.
O, wretched modern work-man
You lived your whole life as a show
Yet the only Watcher who mattered
Didn’t like what He saw.
O, wretched modern work-man
When you finally died
Your surname, and hospital bill
Were all you left behind…
Back To Greed
What's the problem?
Why is there a commotion in the streets?
We have created millions of jobs.
And half of the people weren't qualified,
To fulfill the positions.
And yet they have their jobs!
And people are working.
What's going on?
What is the protesting about?
'Well...
The people are disgruntled,
Because...
Well,
The have an issue with 'pay'! '
What issue?
'They want to get 'paid'.
They want pay for what they do.'
You can't satisfy these people!
First it was jobs.
That's all they screamed about.
Well,
They've got their jobs.
Now you say they want pay?
'Yes.'
What next will they be demanding?
FOOD?
Then what?
SHELTER?
What kind of operation they think we run here?
A 'social service agency'?
You tell them to go back to work.
Because they certainly will 'not' be going back to greed.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Man is pathetic
Man, unlike other mammals, is pathetic
As he has to spend his libido without sex
By seeing women or their images
Or reading about women and their love.
16.10.2010
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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