The Collective.
Walk in the factory door,
Daily eight hour necessary‘chore'.
The‘bore'is about to begin,
Starting by‘swiping'in.
Get your hypo-spray,
Only‘think'the company way,
Another week another day.
Forty hours, for your‘fake'pay.!
No individual, only collective thought,
Your labour sold and bought.
MARCH 2009
poem by Guy Lipmore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Starting To Remember
(lebon, rhodes, cucurrullo)
How to begin?
Do I shed a skin
Now that I am starting to remember
It takes a while
But you find a way to open up the door
Let the demons walk
Now that I am starting to remember
Cant change my world
I was happy ever after
Was it only yesterday
I bought the dream
But I dont sleep no more
Counting the hours
Till the dawn
Now that I am starting to remember
How to love
How to learn
Draw like a child
Run for miles and miles
Now that I am starting to remember
Who I am
Another lonley night ahead for me now
Buried in the dakening day
That lingers on
And drags me down
But youve got to believe
Time will heal
song performed by by Duran Duran
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Shorter Week
I worked for fifty hours a week,
And someone said to me,
'Don't be a serf! Throw off your chains,
And show the world you're free!'
So I cut down my working hours
And found, upon the whole,
The leisure time I had to spare
Good for my body's carking care,
And better for my soul.
I worked for forty hours a week,
And someone said to me,
'Release your bonds, you shackled slave!
Show all the world you're free!'
So I reduced my working hours
And found in leisured lull,
The more I sought to play, the more
Amusement had become a bore,
And life was rather dull.
I worked for twenty hours a week,
And someone said to me
'Awake, you mutt! Snap out of it,
And show the world you're free!'
So I cut out my working hours
And found that joy had flit.
Upon black melancholia's brink,
I sometimes used to sit and think
And sometimes merely sit.
I worked for not one hour a week,
And someone said to me,
'You lazy coot! Arise and shine!
You call this being free?'
So I resolved I'd better far
Rejoin the toiling mob.
But when I rose and looked around,
To my intense digust I found
Someone had pinched my job.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Forty Hour Week
forty hour week (for a livin')
There are people in this country who work hard every day.
Not for fame or fortune do they strive.
But the fruits of their labor are worth more than their pay.
And it's time a few of them were recognized.
Hello detroit auto workers, let me thank you for your time.
You work a forty hour week for a livin', just to send it on down the line.
Hello pittsburgh steel mill workers, let me thank you for your time.
You work a forty hour week for a livin', just to send it on down the line.
This is for the one who swings the hammer, driving home the nail.
Or the one behind the counter, ringing up the sale.
Or the one who fights the fires, the one who brings the mail.
For everyone who works behind the scenes.
You can see them every morning in the factories and the fields.
In the city streets and the quiet country towns.
Working together like spokes inside a wheel.
They keep this country turning around.
Hello kansas wheat field farmer, let me thank you for your time.
You work a forty hour week for a livin', just to send it on down the line.
Hello west virginia coal miner, let me thank you for your time.
You work a forty hour week for a livin', just to send it on down the line.
This one is for the one who drives the big rig, up and down the road.
Or the one out in the warehouse, bringing in the load.
Or the waitress, the mechanic, the policeman on patrol.
For everyone who works behind the scenes.
With a spirit you can't replace with no machine.
Hello, america,
Let me thank you for your time.
song performed by by Alabama
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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Bought And Sold
Bought and sold.
Bought,
And sold.
Bought and sold...
As if no feelings I keep.
But deep inside I'm touched.
Nothing here is cheaply rushed.
Bought and sold...
On what to me has been told.
Not me I'm not of mush.
Nor easily crushed to dust.
Excesses on the cheapness of life,
Has made a weakness increase...
And,
Bought and sold.
Bought,
And sold.
Bought and sold.
Too many given anything.
Just to say they've gotten a piece,
To be...
Bought and sold.
Bought and sold...
On what to me has been told.
Not me I'm not of mush.
Nor easily crushed to dust.
Bought and sold...
As if no feelings I keep.
But deep inside I'm touched.
Nothing here is cheaply rushed.
Too many people take for granted and accept too easily.
To be sold,
On what they're told.
Too many people take for granted and accept too easily.
Bought and sold,
On what they're told.
Too many people take for granted and accept too easily.
To be sold,
On what they're told.
Bought and sold,
On what they're told.
Just...
To sell.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Peace. A Study
He stood, a worn-out City clerk —
Who'd toil'd, and seen no holiday,
For forty years from dawn to dark —
Alone beside Caermarthen Bay.
He felt the salt spray on his lips;
Heard children's voices on the sands;
Up the sun's path he saw the ships
Sail on and on to other lands;
And laugh'd aloud. Each sight and sound
To him was joy too deep for tears;
He sat him on the beach, and bound
A blue bandana round his ears
And thought how, posted near his door,
His own green door on Camden Hill,
Two bands at least, most likely more,
Were mingling at their own sweet will
Verdi with Vance. And at the thought
He laugh'd again, and softly drew
That Morning Herald that he'd bought
Forth from his breast, and read it through.
poem by Charles Stuart Calverley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Starting Over Again
Momma moved out
Daddy sold the house
They split up the money
And went on their way
And all the kings horses
And all the kings men
Couldnt put mommy and daddy back together again
Chorus:
Starting over again
Where should they begin
cause theyve never been out on their own
Starting over again
Where do you begin
When your dreams are all shattered
And the kids are all grown
And the whole world cries
Got an apartment
She moved in with her sisters
Hes scheming big deals with one of his friends
While she sits at home
Just sorting out pieces
Of left over memories
From thirty odd years
2nd chorus:
Starting over again
Where do you begin
Youve never been out on your own
Starting over again
Never any end
What will the neighbors say?
Theyre talking talk, its small town news
Facing fifty years old
Making up a happy home
And this far down the road
You find yourself alone
Two fools
3rd chorus:
Starting over again
Now where do you begin
When youve never been out on your own
Starting over again
Never any end
When your dreams are all shattered
And the kids are all grown
And all the kings horses
And all the kings men
Could never put mommy and daddy back together
Back together, again
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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0012 Poetry Class
Two o’clock on a quiet afternoon,
and the class file in for their poetry ‘hour’,
brief daily slot in the packed week’s course in many things.
We’ve been through ‘the basics’ –
whatever they are these days;
they’ve been told what, at least,
they used to be; I try to keep all options open,
say ‘this is what it used to be’, tell them
it’s a great time for poetry now, no rules,
just sincerity, the open heart, some models
if they need them, so after this week,
just read, write, as much as they can;
and now, forget about achievement,
just feel really good
that you’re doing what you want to do,
being what you want to be - yourself -
saying what you want to say –
feel more like a loving, expressive human being
than you’ve ever felt before..
A few more basics, just as few as may be useful;
then I say, here’s today’s offered theme, stay in the room,
or find a place outside on this fine day,
come back promptly please..
Forty brief minutes later, they return;
would anyone like to read theirs, no compulsion?
None of them want to be the first, in case…
I wonder if they know just how much they’re loved..
I ask one, in the end; then of course
they all want to read, each with
an apologetic preface first..
At the end of the week, the inevitable
request for a presentation; I’ve tried
to shield these innocents from that.
I say, it’s voluntary… they all want to read.
And so they do. We chose ‘Childhood’ as the theme
at 24 hours’ notice and just forty minutes..
perfect choice. The audience love them
for just being themselves, and what they have to say.
The one who pretends to be a mouse
reads hers; her cheeks are pink with mingled
modesty and sincerity. I catch
the light on the corner of my colleague’s eye
where a tear of sheer love is gathering.
Poetry has worked its magic once again.
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Starting Over Again
(donna summer, bruce sudano)
Mama moved out
Daddy sold the house
They split up the money
And went on their own way
And all the kings horses
And all the kings men
Couldnt put mama and daddy back together again
Starting over again
Where should they begin
cause they never been out on their own
Starting over again
Where do you begin
When your dreams are all shattered
And the kids are all grown
And the whole world cries
He got an apartment
She moved in with her sisters
Hes schemin big deals with one of his friends
While she sits at home sortin out pieces
Of left over memories from thirty odd years
Starting over again
Where do you begin
When youve never been out on your own
Starting over again
Never any end
What will the neighbors say
Theyre talking talk its small town news
Theyre fifty years old wrecking up a happy home
And this far down the road
You find yourself alone
Two fools
Starting over again
Where do you begin
When youve never been out on your own
Starting over again
Never any end
When your dreams are all shattered
And the kids are all grown
And all the kings horses
And all the kings men
Couldnt put mama and daddy back together again
song performed by by Reba Mcentire
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Research is starting to show that a child should be engaged at least 20 hours a week. I do not think it matters which program you choose as long as it keeps the child actively engaged with the therapist, teacher, or parent for at least 20 hours a week.
quote by Temple Grandin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lonely Soldiers
Smiles willl begin to fade,
And tears will start to flow.
When your the last one there,
and this lonely feeling begins to grow.
Lonely skeltons with lonely smiles,
Forever they will march.
They walk on through this lonely world,
With only one thing to do,
To march.
You watch them with eyes so cold,
And hands cut raw.
You join them in the lonely parade,
and you march on forever more.
The flying souls and silent nights,
Reach on till lonely hours.
All alone these soldiers will march,
Because their the lonely soldiers.
poem by Stella Andrews
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Is All About You
1 hour unity,
2 hours peace,
3 hours playing,
4 hours sleeping,
5 hours smiling,
6 hours living,
7 hours trusting in your muse!
For this river is mine and yours foeevers;
And, i want to be close to you always.
1 hour smiling,
2 hours learning,
3 hours thinking,
4 hours with your muse,
5 hours teaching,
6 hours working,
But, the 7th hour comes for me to sleep with you;
Because, this love is all about you! !
And, i want to be with you always.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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There is a way in which the collective knowledge of mankind expresses itself, for the finite individual, through mere daily living... a way in which life itself is sheer knowing.
Laurens Van der Post in Venture to the Interior (1951)
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Always Never
theres colours in between us,oh but still it looks the same.
u'd stand here before me,waking me up with it's wonderful pain.
the buzz is coming for us.
then u wake up and your walking in circules.
shaking the hand of bad habits again,again
this is right now,trust me somehow.
let it be,just let it be.
walk out the door.
something better,always never
cause misery loves company
you can be sure.
your looking in the mirror
oh your scratching off my skin
you think i did'nt notice
the madness and torture is drawing me in
the satalite is watching
and then you come home and you switch on your sorrow
shaking the hand of bad habits again,again.
this is rightnow,trust me somehow
let it be,just let it be
walk out the door.
something better,always never
cause misery loves company
you can be sure.
always never,always never
let it be,just let it be
walk out the door
always never,always never
cause misery loves company
you can be sure.
song performed by by Natalie Imbruglia
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Twenty-four Seven
(j.b. rudd/vip vipperman)
Ive got this craving around the clock
And its got a hold on me
Ive had it bad since the moment we met
I cant get no relief
Youre the only train of thought on my one track mind
Going ninety miles an hour baby all the time
Twenty-four, seven
Youre the only thing that matters to me
Twenty-four hours girl, every day
Seven long days a week
Im in heaven, heaven
Twenty-four, seven
Every night when I go to sleep
In my dreams there you are
Youre the first thing I think about
And thats how the morning starts
It seems like everything I say and do
Is all about me being in love with you
Twenty-four, seven
Youre the only thing that matters to me
Twenty-four hours girl, every day
Seven long days a week
Im in heaven, heaven
Twenty-four, seven
Youre the only train of thought on my one track mind
Going ninety miles an hour baby all the time
Twenty-four, seven
Youre the only thing that matters to me
Twenty-four hours girl, every day
Seven long days a week
Im in heaven, heaven
Twenty-four, seven
Im in heaven
Twenty-four, seven
Twenty-four hours girl, every day
Seven long days a week
Im in heaven, heaven
Twenty-four seven
Twenty-four seven girl
song performed by by Trace Adkins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Clean
Spread you mind the fish feed
Dont ignore my speech my
Heart blees
Make yourself the perfect butt
Some passing thought, I dont know what
Dont remind me, Ill fake
What I need to
Get back in case the door swings and
Dont forget to hide
Your mood rings
Fit to tie
I thought I knew good company
Id like to be you
Youre right behind me and
Mouth all I read
Dont remind me, Ill fake
What I need
Youre right behind me and
Mouth all I read
song performed by by Helmet
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Who I'm Starting To See
i use to let you tell me what to do,
i don't know why,
maybe because at the time,
i couldn't think for myself,
it was just something about you,
that made me feel special,
but, now i see what you doing,
little by little,
i see where i went wrong,
giving up part of my power,
and letting you have what you want,
i feel as if you can't trust me,
you snoop through my phone,
when i'm not looking,
just to see who i dial,
i caught you one or twice,
but you thought it was fun and games,
what is wrong with you?
little by little,
i'm starting to think i will be better off,
if only i wasn't with you,
i'm starting to feel trapped,
rather than free and opened,
my friend seem to say,
you're abit controling,
am i being blind sided?
can't really see,
what's in front of me, the whole time?
i think back of when you notice me,
it wasn't until you realize,
what you were slowly losing,
that you put in a little effort,
just to try and be with me,
but, in my eyes,
i'm starting to think it was fake,
you put up a front,
rather than just be yourself,
people don't see,
what i'm starting to see,
a guy who does more talk,
rather than take action,
i don't know why i'm still with you,
i know i'm better than this,
but, i get sucked in,
when you tell me that you miss me,
i don't know why, maybe because,
i don't like the feeling of being alone,
i've been through so much,
at times you helped me through,
other times you made jokes,
about the mistakes i made,
what kind of help are you?
you wanted to perade it,
like it was you business to tell,
what kind of friend are you?
slowly i'm starting to see the real you,
the part i lost sight on,
when everything fell apart,
to make me think,
you just wasn't the one for me.
Copyright © 2009
7-01-09
poem by Mona Martinez
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Betwixt The Devil And The Deep Blue Sea
I'm betwixt the Devil and the deep blue sea,
Cause no one wants to employ me.
Why did I choose my chosen career?
Forty years ago, I was sincere.
Interested in figures I then was,
Numerical ones ~ of course.
Accounting I chose in aspects all,
Now it has become my downfall.
At Sixty-two chances are slim,
Of finding more work ~ what a pickle I'm in.
With Accounting Software geared for all,
For Bookkeeping Work ~ there is a shortfall.
Two hours work I had this week,
A new living I must seek,
Two hours will not keep the wolves from the door,
I'll cry in my boots, for an encore.
A hundred letters I've sent this week.
Perhaps one will give me what I seek,
If it'll not work ~ what will I do?
I know ~ I'll write another poem for you.
Copyright (c) Jonathan Goldman [JGthepoet] - 1 June 2006
poem by Jonathan Goldman a.k.a JGthepoet
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Love Child
You bore me, you bore me you teach me, you taught me, you see me, you want me, you buy me, then torch me, you enter and walk me the thing that came out of my mouth sweet mouth when I leave this
Old house I should have a good day should I have a bad should I get something out see what Ive had? can I stay a young man or grow old and fat dont need a microphone to say I know bout this and
I dont need a microphone to know where its at well I got a duster but I dont have a flat how should we cook this? should we let it boil? lets make a love child we both can spoil give it a dee
Use the kindest oil we have to find some good land get the good soil how should we cook this?
Should we let it burn? we both need a wise up we both need to learn the things that come out of your mouth sweet mouth when I leave this safe old house should it be a good thing or should it be
Heres something dying baby but I got to go out your need on the inside where a man like that can shout so if you thinks thats evil shake it up and about get to the tip top take a tall look out
S a leader of people doesnt know what its about just want s to be a big man has the urge to whip it out well I sold it you bought it you spread it you caught it you dont have to have a big dic
T makes you feel proud I got to find a high point get it out for the crowd you bought me, you bore me you tease me, you taught me you feed me, you fought me you see me then you want me who you b
Me, then touch me you enter and walk me should I have a good day or is it bad should I get some of the things out see what Ive had theres something dying baby but I gotta get out
song performed by by Happy Mondays
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Driving In My Car
Ive been driving in my car, its not quite a jaguar
I bought it in primrose hill from a bloke from brazil
It was made in fifty-nine in a factory by the tyne
It says morris on the door, the g.p.o. owned it before
I drive in it for my job, the governor calls me a slob
But I dont really care, give me some gas and the open air
Its a bit old but its mine, I mend it in my spare time
Just last week I changed the oil, the rocker valves and the coil
Just last week I changed the oil
Last week it went round the clock, I also had a little knock
I dented somebodys fender, he learnt not to park on a bender, ha ha ha
Ive been driving in my car, it dont look much but Ive been far
I drive up to muswell hill, Ive even been to selsey bill
I drove along the a45, I had her up to 58
This copper stopped me the other day, youre mistaken what could I say
The tyres were a little worn, they were o.k., I could have sworn
I like driving in my car, Im satisfied Ive got this far
I like driving in my car, it dont look much but Ive been far
I like driving in my car, even with a flat tyre
I like driving in my car, its not quite a jaguar
I like driving in my car, Im satisfied Ive got this far
song performed by by Madness
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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