A Common Tragedy
When a fire breaks out
In a garments factory
Some workers escape
Others are trampled to death
Now a common tragedy
poem by Asif Andalib
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The Killer Inferno at Sivakasi
The killer inferno is a great tragedy
At the fire works manufacturing factory,
It is situated in Sivakasi, Tamil Nadu, India,
Which is called as the ‘Little Japan of India'.
In our country it is the unit best,
And in the world ‘tis the second largest;
While we thus raise the collar,
The powerful explosions are a shock caller.
Many people died in the raging blaze,
And many were injured in the smoking haze;
Thirty-five persons were charred to death,
And more than seventy were injured in health.
In small sheds workers were over crowding,
Above the limits the raw materials were in dumping;
There exist prescribed rules and regulations,
But many were the norms that were in violations.
Let us cogitate over the fire-works,
As jeopardy to many lives therein lurks;
All fire-works in display should be hated,
As large sums of money are truly wasted.
To the kin of the injured and deceased,
Ex-gratia money was given and eased;
To the many precious lives lost,
Can this ever be an equal cost?
poem by Chandra Thiagarajan
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Only Night
Workers
Are working
for factory...
Day with night...
works
Night making day
For with out sleep
Workers...
Day time also
Work...
workers life...
Not for day
Only at
Night for life...
Sun shine day's
24hour's come
And go...
Workers life...
wacke up at night....!
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Working At The Factory
All my life I've been a workin' man
When I was at school they said that's all you'll ever understand
No profession. I didn't figure in their plans
So they sent me down factory to be a workin' man
All I lived for, All I lived for
All I lived for was to get out of the factory
Now I'm here seemingly free, but working at the factory.
The music came along and gave new life to me
And gave me hope back in 1983
The music came and set me free
From working at the factory
All I lived for, All I lived for
All I lived for was to get out of the factory
All I lived for, All I lived for
All I lived for was to get out of the factory
Never wanted to be like everybody else
But now there are so many like me sitting on the shelf
They sold us a dream but in reality
It was just another factory
I made the music , thought that was mine
It made me free , but that was in another time
But then the corporations and the big combines
Turned musicians into factory workers on assembly lines.
All I lived for, All I lived for
All I lived for was to get out of the factory
We made the music to set ourselves free
From working at the factory.
All my life I've put in a working day
Now it's sign the contract. Get production on the way
Take the money, make the music pay
Working at the factory
All I lived for was to get out of the factory.
Never wanted to be like everybody else
But now there are so many like me sitting on the shelf
They sold us a dream but in reality
Was just another factory
Working at the factory.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fruit Marriage: Children 'Outsourcing
Abundant rain this afternoon
After the workers shouting in the street
'Deliver us from outsourcing! '
Our marriage failed because we were oppressed
Like the birds in the cages cattle
To cut and served at fast food restaurants
Owned gentlemen,
While the gentlemen just calculate profit and only profit
No matter our fate every year there swept horns 'outsourcing'
Oscillate from one factory to another factory
With the same labor agreement 'outsourcing'
Our roving from one factory to another factory
To save our children
In order to survive, but what she said
'Outsourcing' just like fresh-powered workers
Who would be paid less, older workers, useless, slow
Only useful for garbage collectors
And cleaning the table, in the afternoon
When a fast-food restaurant, crowded
Young children, who sang brisiknya
The latest stuff
While our children, it is never clear
Where was about to step
When home from school...... and when it exploded brawl
Has always been a focus accusations,
Hah, basic wild children, punks do not know the rules
From the fruit of marriage, children are 'outsourcing'.
poem by Prasetya Utama
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I Am... (I Am Not...)
i am the unions.
miners, teachers, steel workers,
nurses, factory workers,
standing strong and united,
demanding human decency,
fair wages and benefits.
i am not communism.
i am the common man and woman,
saying prayers with their hands
as they work;
driven by the faith in family,
teaching respect, gentleness,
and firm convictions
to their children.
i am not the elite.
i am the bruised, scarred human being.
i have fallen time and again.
i have built great dreams
that time has destroyed.
but i know what i believe,
and who i am.
i am not religious.
i am the multi-colored neighborhood.
different faiths, different languages,
the same needs and desires.
i am open conversation and acceptance.
i am not prejudice.
i am the day of revolution.
i am oppression cast off,
ignorance exposed;
i am equality, dignity,
and basic human rights.
i am not 'i, me, mine'.
i am the human condition...
evolving, changing, molded by fire,
i am the river that finds
it's way home...
i am not the end of time!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Merchant of Dhaka
You can't make money without the factory that cremates the workers alive.
And by the time you piled and filled your coffers with TAKA
You decided to treat the workers as creatures to be used and their bodies mutilated to reap Dollars
Your greed becomes far-reaching.
Who are 'they', these eponymous?
Anonymous, charred bodies
Who worked relentlessly to bring a huge sum of foreign money from far and wide to make you filthy rich?
It is difficult to be more specific than to say
They are the life-line of your industry.
They are related by labour to 'you, the clothing merchant'.
And those workers have to be cremated alive! Some workers have
To be burnt alive in the shrinking hole of hell that you call 'FACTORY! '
And they just happen to be standing about
Like fireflies on a dark, dark night.
She (the female charred body) is, in short, one of many
Of means to an end, that end being to enlarge your ravenous tummy
The production machineries
And to make you prosper and chubbier.
The inhuman working condition, the lowest of wages in the world,
The sexual harassment, the physical torture and mutilation, the absence of everything human,
All these singularities help you pile profits on profits;
You can't make a mountain of riches
Without mutilating their bodies,
All of them in one enclosed hole.
And if versions of the story, the complete
Valency of the tragedy is to be believed
You can't make mountains full of riches without curtailing and telling
At the very least their life span and quite possibly
An imaginary cock and bull story.
A charred female body speaks
To accuse you
You can't, You can't, You can't.
That charred female body may actually have witnessed the carnage with one hundred and twenty one co-workers the final mutilation of their human bodies.
They may have wished to confirm -
You can't make money without the factory
That cremates the workers alive.
Outside the carnage where a few gathers to find the familiar faces of fathers, mothers, sisters and brothers
You are crying your own loss: 'O, my TAKA. O. My TAKA';
Someone is going to provide 'duty of care' to your TAKA lost
Assuring you that your money won't be lost
Would be recovered from the ashes of numbers.
poem by Dr Khairul Chowdhury
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The escapes
Fight is an escape from fear.
Art is an escape from deprivation.
Love is an escape from perversion.
Ambition is an escape from sloth.
Goodness is an escape from depravity.
Life is an escape from death.
Every escape gives you relief
28.10.2007
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The AFL-CIO is a structure that divides workers' strength by allowing each union to organize in any industry, then bargain on its own, even when workers share a common employer.
quote by Andy Stern
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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As an actor we're just like workers in a factory, we provide our services to directors.
quote by Chow Yun Fat
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Friend, Death
Suicide
An escape from the world
From all the sorrow
The pain
The hurt
An escape from the darkness
Into the darkness
Never to come back out
I've looked for other ways
I've found other doors
But all of them were locked
The only door opened is death
Death will cradle me
Death will wipe my tears away
Death will comfort me
Death will love me
Death will do what no one else could
Death will understand
Death will be my friend
poem by Rachie West
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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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Factory
Early in the morning factory whistle blows,
Man rises from bed and puts on his clothes,
Man takes his lunch, walks out in the morning light,
Its the working, the working, just the working life.
Through the mansions of fear, through the mansions of pain,
I see my daddy walking through them factory gates in the rain,
Factory takes his hearing, factory gives him life,
The working, the working, just the working life.
End of the day, factory whistle cries,
Men walk through these gates with death in their eyes.
And you just better believe, boy, somebodys gonna get hurt tonight,
Its the working, the working, just the working life.
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What then is tragedy? In the Elizabethan period it was assumed that a play ending in death was a tragedy, but in recent years we have come to understand that to live on is sometimes far more tragic than death.
quote by George P. Baker
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Factory
Days are long but the minds are strong
In the factory
Heads are down and all the people frown
In the factory
I'm so down I put my head around every noose I see
Days are long but the minds are strong
In the factory
Eyes are mean but the walls are clean
In the factory
Patience now they're gonna string you out
In the factory
I'm so tired I never go outside every night I sleep
Days are long but the minds are gone
In the factory
song performed by by The Vines from Highly Evolved
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Escape
Escape
Escape
That one word resonates in my mind
I need an escape a reprieve from
All this energy surrounding me
Escape
Escape
I want to be let out for awhile
To be free and alone
To do what I want without interference
Escape
Escape
I don't wanna hear arguing
Or little petty problems
I want to not have to do anything
Escape
Escape
I want to Escape
poem by Autumn Winds
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I can walk through the front door of any factory and out the back and tell you if it's making money or not. I can just tell by the way it's being run and by the spirit of the workers.
quote by Harvey S. Firestone
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Women movements would form among the factory workers, a great mobilisation that destroyed the old models.
quote by Emma Bonino
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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One Of Them!
student protesters
close down Wall Street....
peaceful waves lapping
at the shore....
but the storm is coming;
students give way to workers,
workers without food,
without housing or medical care,
workers without hope....
angry workers,
and they damn sure
ought to be...
i know, i'm one of them!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Slit the wrist and let it flow.
Hate and pain, feelin’ it in my veins.
Hate and pain etched in my mind.
Love and hate are all the same,
Life and death are all our problems, but you treat them as there mine.
Slit the wrist and let it flow! !
Slit the wrist and let it flow! !
Life and death are all the same in my mind.
Life and death are all the same,
Play with fire and get burned.
Accusations flying my way, will they ever stop?
Slit the wrist and let it flow.
Slit the wrist and let it flow.
Life and death are all the same.
Life and death, when will it end?
Anger and frustration all boiling to the top.
Vengeance and Violence seems to be the only way.
Slit the wrist and let it flow! !
Slit the wrist and let it flow! !
Life and death, it’s all the same.
Life and death, is it my turn yet?
Death is living again.
Death is bliss I will never discover.
Slit the wrist and let it flow! !
Slit the wrist and let it flow! !
Life and death, it’s all the same.
Life and death, a new fire is born.
Death is an eternal fire being blown out.
Death is being free from the shackles of life.
Slit the wrist and let it flow! !
Slit the wrist and let it flow! !
Life and death, it’s all the same.
Life and death, it’s our destiny.
Death is the only escape.
Death is the forth stomach of a cow.
By Ariel Morris.
poem by Ariel Morris
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Iowa is home to teachers, farmers, lawyers, factory workers, and many others who work hard every day to provide the best for their families and their future.
quote by Leonard Boswell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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