I see a lot of people who love their jobs. I see some garbage collectors smiling as they go about their work.
quote by Willie Stargell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
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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Roses on the Earth
Roses on the Earth
Shameful work you are doing
Laughing and smiling still then.
You are floating in the sea of poverty and sorrows
still you have
no hesitation,
No tension,
And no worries.
Can you say me to secret of your smile?
We are in surprise.
People see you and have a pity on your fate.
But you are always away from
the luxury of the fate.
Your profession is garbage collection.
No body can enter easily in your profession except you.
I have seen Roses in the garden.
They are blooming with the thorns.
You are also smiling with unlimited sorrows and poverty
Even on the heap of the garbage
which is more painful than the thorns.
We can say them
“The Roses on the Earth”
poem by Vijay Gupta
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Learning The Art Of Loving
it is a hug that you need
when some parts of you dangle
on your shoulder
like the way your your hair
shouts for help
for fear of falling
and here i am coming
to hug you
this kind of hug that sings
the song of
apple pickers
and
garbage collectors
whose hands
are sworn
to clean the mess
and keep the pieces
to put them all away
and burn them
as often as necessary
i will hug you baby
but only for
a while
i am both
this apple picker somewhere
in the north
and a garbage collector
some place in the south
let us talk about
love some other time
i am still
learning the art of loving
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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436
It Is A Hug That You Need
When Some Parts Of You Dangle
On Your Shoulder
Like The Way Your Your Hair
Shouts For Help
For Fear Of Falling
And Here I Am Coming
To Hug You
This Kind Of Hug That Sings
The Song Of
Apple Pickers
And
Garbage Collectors
Whose Hands
Are Sworn
To Clean The Mess
And Keep The Pieces
To Put Them All Away
And Burn Them
As Often As Necessary
I Will Hug You Baby
But Only For
A While
I Am Both
This Apple Picker Somewhere
In The North
And A Garbage Collector
Some Place In The South
Let Us Talk About
Love Some Other Time
I Am Still
Learning The Art Of Loving
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Loving That Taste For The Gutter
If they always call those they visit trash,
And on a daily basis they are around them.
What do they regard themselves?
Trash collectors?
Or recycled garbage...
Loving that taste for the gutter.
They can't leave it,
'Cause they come right back.
No matter what they call it they want it like that!
Because they love that taste for the gutter.
They love that taste for the gutter.
Whenever its suspected someone else will attack,
They will defend their trash with a coming back.
Because they love that taste for the gutter.
Yes they love that taste for the gutter.
They can't leave it,
'Cause they come right back.
No matter what they call it they want it like that!
Because they love that taste for the gutter.
They love that taste for the gutter.
If they always call those they visit trash,
And on a daily basis they are around them.
What do they regard themselves?
Trash collectors?
Garbage defenders?
Whenever its suspected someone else will attack,
They will defend their trash with a coming back.
Because they love that taste for the gutter.
Yes they love that taste for the gutter.
Garbage defenders,
Loving that taste for the gutter.
Trash collectors,
Loving that taste for the gutter.
But wont admit or quit,
Loving that taste for the gutter.
They can't leave it,
'Cause they come right back.
Because they love that taste for the gutter.
Garbage defenders,
Loving that taste for the gutter.
Trash collectors,
Loving that taste for the gutter.
But wont admit or quit,
Loving that taste for the gutter.
But wont quit,
That taste for the gutter.
Or admit...
A loving for the gutter.
And wont quit,
That taste for the gutter.
Or admit...
A loving for the gutter.
No they wont admit it,
A loving for the gutter.
Or...
Quit,
A taste they have for the gutter.
No they wont admit it,
A loving for the gutter.
Or...
Quit,
A taste they have for the gutter.
Or...
Quit,
A taste they have for the gutter.
No they wont admit it,
A loving for the gutter.
Or...
Quit,
A taste they have for the gutter.
Or...
Quit,
A taste they have for the gutter.
No they wont admit it!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Here's a good thing to do if you go to a party and you don't know anybody First, take out the garbage. Then go around and collect any extra garbage that people might have, like a crumpled-up napkin, and take that out too. Pretty soon people will want to meet the busy garbage guy.
Jack Handey in Deep Thoughts
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I’m So Proud Of My Murali Boy
I’m so proud of my son Murali
cos he’s always thinking smart
and efficient
I asked him the other day:
“Sonny boy
dear Murali
What’d you like to be
when you grow up? ”
And he says to me:
“I’ll be a garbage collector, Daddy”
And I say to him:
“O my dear boy -
why a garbage collector
of all the jobs? ”
And my little boy Murali
says, smart as he always is:
“Oh, Dad,
look at them:
they have such big trucks
and they work only once a week”
Oh yes, I’m so proud
of my little Murali
poem by Raj Arumugam
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Y... Garbage Man
Become a garbage man
Every day, just for a minute
Search for some litter
Pick up some garbage
Where ever you can
Don't stoop down.
Not good for the back
Just sit on your heels
Stay squatted and look up
It gives you a special perspective
Pick up a hand full
Walk to the bin
Not the nearest
The walking is exercise
Good for your body
So, become a garbage man
It can give you perspective
It is good for your body
It is good for the world
Just a hand full per day.
-
Note:
Garbage men really deserve ou full respect.
I got the idea to write this piece when I was picking up a handful of garbage from the beach. I thought if there more people picking up garbage than people throwing garbage, littering would no longer be a problem.
I hope in this poem there is nothing disrespectful of garbage men. They really do a great job en deserve our respect as much as doctors and lawyers deserve our respect (as indicated in the comments by unwritten soul below)
poem by Aufie Zophy
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Sonnet- Stark Reality
The garbage-dump, it serves as a cradle!
The female child is left here by the Eves;
Along with dogs, they search ’midst plantain leaves;
The beggar too comes here for his morsel!
The poor children, they search amongst garbage;
With bodies bare and sacks on their shoulders;
They beg too, in the street’s- no one bothers;
The plastic, iron, to sell they manage.
They work in risky jobs for a penny;
And go from pillar to post so many;
Beaten and abused and turned delinquents,
By drunken fathers, their cries, the air rents.
This is the stark reality today!
And children’s lives have not changed anyway.
poem by John Celes
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Something To Get Done For Somebody
Many people have done one thing,
Most of their lives.
Get up-go to work-and go home!
Get up-go to work-and go home!
Get up-go to work-and go home!
Until they are awarded a gift...
To show an appreciation,
For their dedicated madness.
Those who make it.
Those who are downsized with jobs outsourced...
Their loyalty gets them a pink slip.
Or a promise to fit them in anywhere.
If there is space left.
And if they don't mind sitting behind a brick wall,
To put in their time for a lower pay.
And to keep in mind...
They still have jobs that accomplishes 'something'.
Something to get done for somebody!
Until the time comes to retire from it.
Or get fired.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Work
Work is what we have to do
to put food on the table
we work for years and years
that is until we are unable.
We are asked at school
what we want to be?
I remember telling the teacher
that I want to play football for Coventry.
There's all types of work to do
like in an office or a building site
if your lucky you can do sport
be a Boxer and get paid to fight.
But most of us don't do that
and often we do jobs that we hate
like working in a horrible factory
starting early and finishing late.
But some workers love their jobs
and rarely ever miss a day
they enjoy being there so much
they'd probably work for no pay.
Work is a big part of life
so best do something you like
earn vast amounts of money
buy a flash car instead of a bike.
So be happy wherever you work
no matter what job that may be
but most of us want to retire early
that's why we keep on doing the lottery!
poem by Kevin Halls
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The state of the nation (in answer to T.T. Cloete and Clinton V. du Plessis)
The country have got too many people
that fancies themselves but really know nothing,
being in possession of jobs as if they belong there
without any comprehension how to do the work
while employers come in line with affirmative action.
The country have got too many
political leaders who are corrupt
that wants to tread on others as if they are elephant
or want to rip apart, want to slice others into pieces
with too many women
surrounding them like heroes
while they are supplanting others.
There are too many people
that takes that which belongs to others
with force, trying to steal the lives of others
while they play as if it is a computer game
killing farmers on farms, taking the right to existence
and humanity from others.
There are too many people only living for themselves,
trampling others around them
to get somewhere in life
who drive others out of their way,
who will do anything to earn more.
Too few people are still in love and love each other,
know how to protect
the sanctity of the marriage
and in vain lays the blame
with each and every beautiful escort
while the rotting
is already in their own hearts.
There are too many people
streaming in from other countries
with a dream to live here
while there is too little work
for the people that are here
and oppression is in place
over the jobs that exist
as if you want to go back
into the years of racism.
[References: Behoefte aan ongunstige weers- en ander omstandighede (Need for unfavourable weather – and other circumstances) by T.T. Cloete. tussentydse verslag (interim report) by Clinton V. Du Plessis.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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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
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The Slavery of Irony
In the Slavery of Irony
Illegitimate Nouns arrive
and the wall of Other erects
its own wall against
sins covered up
in the pursuit
a better life, middle class
in a zero sum
Stockholm Syndrome Society
where crumbs eat the people
disguised as rats
where rats are seen as another race entirely
People Rats who live off the garbage of prosperity
in India, in China in Mexico
poverty so fierce
that whole generations
are buried in the holes in the garbage
covered over by still more prosperity-garbage coming in
for the rat people to eat and sell;
and when they wander away for even a day
the are fed to the ego of passerbys
who blame them for smelling bad.
This new feudalism is the progress of the 21st century
where we shall all be buried one day in our own garbage
and beneath that collapse that is sure to come.
Even as the Rat People revolt and show up at our doors
some will say 'just a minute, will you' I need to get myself a 'latte.'
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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A Garbage Can
Life is sometimes not as planned
What could be worse than a garbage can
For you are tossed and thrown away
just like the garbage to rot each day
Taken for granted by a ladies man
A woman is mistreated as much as she can
Love forsaken and lust Oozes out...
To put away his filth without any doubt
In the name of love this game is played
And it is defined as masquerade
The clock turns 8 and it's time to leave
The garbage is out and the man at ease
poem by Meena Mustafa
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Love And Beauty
(Mike Pinder)
I look around at other people
I brush their shoulders at the corner of the street
But all they notice is their feet
It wasn't meant this way
Their minds have gone astray
If they could lift their eyes they'd see
There's people smiling just like me and I'll agree
It's not their fault because it's raining
It's all work and no play, it's just another day
(Love) Love and beauty (Love)
(Love) Love and beauty (Love)
(Love) Love and beauty (Love)
Should be everybody's duty
To welcome every man as a friend
I wish that I could change the world
For every boy there'd be a girl for him to know
And maybe people would look up
Then they might realize they're not the only ones alive
(Love) Love and beauty (Love)
(Love) Love and beauty (Love)
(Love) Love and beauty (Love)
Should be everybody's duty
To welcome every man as a friend
(Love) Love and beauty (Love)
(Love) Love and beauty (Love)
*************************************************************
song performed by by Moody Blues
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There is a garbage culture out there, where we pour garbage on people. Then the pollsters run around and take a poll and say, do you smell anything?
quote by Bob Woodward
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Work! Work! And Reap!
Work! Work! Work! And Reap!
Work! Work! Work! And Sleep!
Everyday most of we work
Some of us love to work
Some of us just want to rock
Some of us want to lie on a beach or take a walk
If we had our way, we could spend all day and talk
But work we all must
Or our lifestyles will go bust!
We may then have to readjust
To unacceptable standards of living in disgust
Work! Work! Work! And Reap!
Work! Work! Work! And Sleep!
We all have different professions
Some of us have silent confessions
We fancy someone at work with an obsession
Work is then fun with a passion until confusion
Work! Work! Work! And Reap!
Work! Work! Work! And Sleep!
There are jobs that are monotonous
The atmosphere is negatively outrageous
Nothing in the air signifies hilarious
Every single person is always very serious
Sometimes played at work
Is the kind of politics
That makes one quite sick
This is where the strong kick
Kick hardest the backside of the weak
But work we all must
Or our lifestyles will go bust!
As we find ourselves lost
And then try hard to readjust
So do we swallow?
Or is fighting back shallow
Will it leave in your pocket a dent that is hollow?
Or produce a scene labeled horror
Enough to leave you in tears of sorrow
I don't have all the answers
I know work is a living cancer
People at work ought to be a little nicer
Everyone needs to make a living including a dancer!
Copyright 2006 - Sylvia Chidi
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Admiration... For Those Who Work!
i have a deep admiration
for the common working people
of the world...
having lived among them,
worked and sweated with them,
i sing their struggle!
farmers toiling day and night,
nurses pulling double shifts.
factory workers doing time and again,
carpenters and masons building.
black and white and all colors,
working their lives by faith.
and immigrants, often called illegal,
(though no human beings are illegal!) ...
who come here and work for whatever wage,
trying to build a dream for their families.
let us not forget women,
too often underpaid and treated as less...
truckdrivers, and those who work the docks,
steel workers, cooks, and trash collectors...
all leave me in awe...
there are many who cant work,
these should always be taken care of.
but the ones that could work if they would work,
who can work, and wont...
well... i have a problem there!
i was taught to work as a child...
taught respect, dignity, and honesty...
and so i believe, and so i live...
in admiration for those who work!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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If you put garbage in a computer nothing comes out but garbage. But this garbage, having passed through a very expensive machine, is somehow ennobled and none dare criticize it.
quote by Rory Bremner
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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