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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Related quotes
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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To Those Who Concern
Migrant workers from developing Third World
Move to developed countries for all sorts of work
They may be professionals or just basic workers
Trying to fill their pockets a little much tighter.
Their employers hire them instead of their own country men
Because they are the cheaper and more hard working ones
They don't understand workers' right and things like that
And work and work and collect their wages intact
The wages basic workers get are quite pathetic and petty
It barely is enough for them to send money back to their families
But for professionals the sum is quite attractive indeed
They can save and send money back to their families in need
These remittent money, says the governments of Third World
Boost their GDPs and increase their economic power overall
But that money, if huge enough, can increase the demand of commodities and land
And raises the prices in those Third World countries of concern
This is a problem for those who are trapped inside
With no family members abroad and self-ability to flight
They work hopelessly and barely survive for less than a dollar a day
Until their minds are exhausted and their body slowly decay
poem by Henry Chen
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The repossession by women of our bodies will bring far more essential change to human society than the seizing of the means of production by workers.
quote by Adrienne Rich
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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Money Can't Buy You Love
Money can buy everything for you
Except to make someone to really love you
If you go out to buy love with your money
You better know, money is the reason, she is selling her body
She may like you for your money
But, when it comes to the real love, she could be someone else’s honey
As long as you got the money, she will stick with you
But when you run out of money, she comes up with excuse to leave you
It doesn’t matter you dead or alive
Money is the one that let you have her “love”
Don’t get confused between word love and like
They don't mean the same, even though they sound alike
Remember, money just buys her physical body, not her mind
If you want to win her heart, you better treat her nice and be kind
Let’s hope money will never buy the love
Otherwise, that’s end of the romance and nice feeling and all the songs and movies will be made and all the books will be written about story of the love
Sam Arjomandi
poem by Sam Arjomandi
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Made In America
went to the funeral
this morning...
men and women of all ages,
all backgrounds, all colors,
stood in line to pay respect.
workers, laid off workers,
workers without hope
of a job....
we viewed the body,
the preacher said kind words,
bringing back memories...
then to the graveyard.
buried beneath an old tree
in a corner soon forgotten...
the headstone read:
Made In America!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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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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The Statement We Make!
the statement we make,
be not written on paper...
it is written,
in the tired eyes of the workers,
underpaid, and struggling.
in the hunger of the unemployed,
in the rage of the homeless.
in the walking of the broken,
in the families of dead soldiers.
in the anger of the young,
with no place to turn.
in the seething of the prisons,
and the tomb infested colleges.
in the smoke filled air,
and the rivers full of waste.
in the haunted mines,
behind the wheel of the big trucks.
in the pot standing empty,
in the fury of the poets.
black and white,
male and female,
old and young,
Christian, Muslim, and atheist...
straight and gay,
all standing equal,
feet set with respect.
an army of one becoming many...
demanding freedom!
the statement we make,
with our bodies and souls,
with our very lives...
written in human blood!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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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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Thank the Light Workers
Thank the Light Workers that shine their light
Thank the Light Workers who set this realm right.
Earth was almost at a point of total collapse
now we made it through 2012
and 2013 almost here at last.
Light Workers saved the ocean from that oil spill
prayer was sent by many people because sea life ill.
Sea life heard the prayers and went to an island faraway
it was recorded as phenomenal to this very day.
Thank the Light Workers once again
and Thank yourself my dear friend
Thank also the all the Angels in heaven.
poem by Suzae Chevalier
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The capitalists speculate on the two following factors: the female worker must be paid as poorly as possible and the competition of female labour must be employed to lower the wages of male workers as much as possible.
quote by Clara Zetkin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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As you know, Social Security functions under the premise that today's workers will help finance benefits for retirees and that these workers will then be supported by the next generation of workers paying into the same system.
quote by Steve Israel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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America's workers face a battle for their jobs. They are the finest workers in the world. American workers grow, harvest, and mine some of the world's highest quality and most plentiful raw materials.
Which Disease You Suffer From?
Those who are having an obsession
to make their bodies thin suffer
from, 'Anorexia Nervosa'.
Those who are having an obsession
to make their bodies muscular suffer
from, 'Bigorexia Nervosa'.
Those who are having an obsession
to make their bodies perfect
suffer from, 'Athletica Nervosa'.
Those who are preoccupied with an
imaginary defect of their body
suffer from, Body Dysmorphic Disorder”.
Those who love their bodies
while yelling, “To hell with the world”
suffer from, “Narcissistic Disorder”.
Those who refuse to take care
of bodies while shouting, ” To hell with it”
suffer from, 'Diogenes Syndrome'.
Hey! Buddy, Which disease you suffer from?
Dr Hitesh C Sheth
05/05/2009
poem by Hitesh Sheth
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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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It is fatal for any body of workers to have forever hanging from the fringes of its skirts other bodies on a level just below its own; for that means continual pressure downward, additional difficulty to be overcome in the struggle to maintain reasonable rates of wages.
quote by Florence Kelley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Crushed By The Wheels Of Industry
Call me in the morning just before the breakfast show
Well watch tv and analyse the weather
Before we go to work well have planned the day ahead
Well while away the working day together
Work all day or work all night its all the same
If you want to play
Some are nurses
Some steal purses
Some are workers
Some are not
It is time for a party
Liberation for the nation now!
Crushed by the wheels of industry
Theres a party going on thats going to change the way we live
But how do we know weve even been invited
Now the invitations waiting and the table is reserved
So just play it cool and dont get excited
Work all day or work all night its all the same
Will we ever change
Its vocation or vacation
Some are workers
Some are not
It is time for a party
Syncopation for the nation now
Crushed by the wheels of industry
Breaking in the future just before the week is up
They can do it but its going to take some money
Have what you desire if and when you see the fact
They will lead us to the land of milk and honey
Work all day or work all night its all the same
If you want the pay
Some drive tankers
Some are bankers
Some are workers
Some are not
It is time for a party
Liberation for the nation now!
song performed by by Heaven 17
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Name Is Jonas
My name is jonas!
Im carrying the wheel.
Thanks for all youve shown us.
But this is how we feel.
Come sit next to me, pour yourself some tea.
Just like grandma made, when we couldnt find sleep.
Things were better then.
Once but never again.
Weve all left the den, let me tell you bout it.
The choo-choo train left right on time.
A ticket cost only your mind.
The driver said hey man, we go all the way.
Of course we were willing to pay!
My name is wepeel !
Got a box full of your toys.
Theyre fresh out of batteries.
But youre still making noise! making noise!
Tell me what to do,
Now the tank is dry, now this wheel is flat, and you know what else!
Guess what I received in the mail today,
Words of deep concern, for my little brother.
The buildings not going as he planned...
The foreman has injured his hand,
The dozer will not clear a path,
The driver swears he learned his math !
The workers are going home.
Workers are going home.
The workers are going home.
The workers are going home.
Yeah!
The workers are going home.
The workers are going home.
The workers are going home.
Yeah yeah yeah!
My name is jonas.
song performed by by Weezer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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