Orchestrated Workplace
An equal opportunity employer
Their trades women and men
Work shoulder to shoulder
Each carrying their load
The metal shop works with brass
Results very rewarding
Labourers are always busy
Three or four different tasks
They have vital roles
Complementing the trades
Never any glory for them
Just constant action
The dress codes are strict
A bow tie and a suit
A very smart dress
No jeans or t shirts
The pants pulled up
Everybody neat and tidy
The foreman taps his desk
Calling them to order
He looks so smart
Dressed in a tux
Their total attention is his
His wish is their command
The workers check their machines
Their tools are ready to go
Tension is building
It's about time to start
The lights go down
The machines start as one
It is beautiful music
This workshops product
Created for their customers
All sitting in the dark
Applauding enthusiastically
Listening to Strauss' Blue Danube
poem by Phil Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Machines
Need a license to breathe
Man left stranded
On the unemployment line
Machines dictate
Man has no right
Even to speak
Look around!
Look everywhere!
No work to be found
Machines run things
Beat you to the hire
Cannot be fired
Work for less
No sick days for me
No personal time
I don't need a day off
Or leave with pay
Just run me
Machines say
Man!
Get up!
Better start over
Get a axe!
Get a hammer!
Load a gun!
Without food
We cannot pray
Lets kill the machines today
Today!
Today!
poem by Buxton Shippy
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Robotics Sentient Borg Intelligences
machines robots
designed to do
specific tasks
for which tools
were created
machines robots
designed to do what...
explore expansion universe
solve scientific questions
create complex sentient
machines many machines
aid enrich civilized lives
yet greed inefficiencies
inherent in global waste
virus profit industrialization
astronomical necessary sums
spent on military applications
engineered for fast devastation
ever more destructive efficient
economical surgical killing wars
does imply sentient cybernetics
might be inevitable dedicated
to inhuman military kill programs
ensuring ultimate self destruct
annihilation extinction purposes
poem by Terence George Craddock
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In A Classy Cafe
They are two smart ladies, in a cafe, drinking tea,
Both chattering away so fast, and so very merrily,
They have obviously, to my mind, been friends for many years,
One of them is talking, the other one, she hears,
Then they change around, so it works the other way,
The talker listens hard, to what the other has to say.
One lady wears such a fashionable, stylish coat of red,
The second one has no coat at all, but what she wears instead
Is a very neat designer dress of a gentle pastel blue,
With a string of pearls around her neck, and pearl earrings too.
Such clear sophistication, they both elegantly display,
One with brown hair, shoulder length, one with short hair, grey,
A Mother and her Daughter, of that I have no doubt,
Just meeting here together, I know not what about,
But they seem to be very happy, and don't even notice us,
Watching so attentively. Oh! , Heck, now we've missed our bus!
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Easter's Past
Sitting in Church
Listening to sermons
With white patent leather shoes
A fancy dress and little white gloves
With a new purse,
My brothers all dressed
In nice shirts and pants,
My mom dressed up like a movie star
With her beautiful dress and hat,
My step dad who never cared for church
He even dressed up for the day.
And in our pockets
Were chocolate eggs and jelly beans
We were told not to take to church
But we couldn’t help it.
I would peek at my brothers
Sneaking candy out of their pockets
And when mom wasn’t looking
I would sneak some out of my purse,
And slowly let the chocolate egg
Dissolve in my mouth
I couldn’t let her see me chewing
Not in church!
We would come home
Have an egg hunt
That we enjoyed so much
That we all would hide the eggs again
Ourselves
Then we had a nice big Easter dinner
Maybe even play monopoly
While eating more Easter candy.
I know the holiday was about Jesus
Being resurrected
I had spent many years
In classes learning these things
But somehow Easter
Just reminds me more of
Family togetherness and love
And visits from the Easter Bunny
And I don’t think Jesus would mind that at all.
poem by Connie Webb
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Blue Danube, Of Course, Strauss
WHO does not know this kind of dance
Like hopping grasshoppers
And butterflies fluttering
Hovering and then
To a quick change
Jumping
Like joy overpowering you
From an overwhelming sorrow,
It can start as a mellow single note
Then comes the other notes
And a lot others joining
Ended into one bombastic
Show
Of women in gowns
Held by men in black suits
And they dance from one end
To the other of this
Dance floor
Who cannot imagine the flow
Of the river Danube
And of course
Who cannot tell
Strauss there all his hands
Bombastically beating
To the rhythm of
A grand waltz
A dance of royalty
For a while
We adopt the mind frames
Of kings and queens
And princes and princesses
To the dance of
Blue Danube
A royal river flowing
To all the hearts of those
Who view life
Alive, rich, abundant
Opulent, of expensive gowns
And silk suits and perfumes
And wine
Oh, it will be only for a night
The blue Danube is now turned
To real blue
The women have bruises
The men have strong fists
And the song perished
In that sickened mind.
You wake up,
The blue Danube
Is a polluted creek
And all the fish
There are already dead.
And who was strauss?
It is you, the complete
Manic-depressive
delusional
Disillusioned
citizen
Of this dancefloor
republic.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Busy Bodies
So you think that you have seen her
When youre lying in between her
And you tell me that you dont care
Busy bodies getting nowhere
Evrybodys getting meaner
Busy bodies
Caught in the concertina
You check her outline
Break her regulations
You watch her legs through several
Service stations
Busy bodies
Very busy
Getting nowhere
Nowhere, nowhere, nowhere
Now youre ready for the merger
With the company youre part of
And you do the dirty business
With your latest sleeping partner
Youre becoming
Automatic
Busy bodies
Out playing with the traffic
You want attention
You try my patience
With the best intentions you are nothing but a nuisance
Busy bodies
Busy busy
Getting nowhere
Nowhere, nowhere, nowhere
Now youve given your performance
Though the matinee was idle
And you find that a wave of her right hand
Could seem so tidal
Just a second
Satisfaction
Busy bodies
Temporarily out of action
You wash and brush up
You want to dress up
You want to kiss her
But shes busy with her makeup
Busy bodies
Very busy
Getting nowhere
Nowhere (x6)
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Paint The Picture
I paint the picture of certain elements,
The simplicity is astounding, it is indescribable,
More than a product of the imagination,
More like steel and rope, due to the factory,
Loathing me, and creating a beautiful appeal
For we see workers and labour accidentally.
The labourers are featured with too many industries,
A little knowledge goes far and remote,
One day we created a stage for acting
To keep us in knowledge, and to see the art
Of a person who wears the same dress,
Preferring the exact treatment of a king,
And taking too many instances.
I paint pictures and watch, further than you know,
But what is it in man and woman to deny the art?
poem by Naveed Akram
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Hence, within the space of two generations there has been a complete revolution in the attitude of the trades-unions toward the women working in their trades.
quote by Florence Kelley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Baby Britain
Baby britain feels the best floating over a sea of vodka
Separated from the rest
Fights problems with bigger problems
Sees the ocean fall and rise
Counts the waves that somehow didnt hit her
Water pouring from her eyes
Alcoholic and very bitter
For someone half as smart youd be a work of art
You put yourself apart
And I cant help until you start
We knocked another couple back
The dead soldiers lined up on the table
Still prepared for an attack
They didnt know theyd been disabled
Felt a wave a rush of blood
You wont be happy til the bottles broken
And youre out swimming in the flood
You kept back you kept unspoken
For someone half as smart youd be a work of art
You put yourself apart
And I cant help until you start
You got a look in your eye
When youre saying goodbye
Like you wanna say hi
The light was on but it was dim
Revolvers been turned over
And now its ready once again
The radio was playing crimson and clover
London bridge is safe and sound
No matter what you keep repeating
Nothings gonna drag me down
To a death thats not worth cheating
For someone half as smart youd be a work of art
You put yourself apart
And I cant help until you start
For someone half as smart youd be a work of art
You put yourself apart
song performed by by Elliott Smith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Personal History and Mythology of Blue Jeans
In the old movies,
The women wore
Skirts and dresses.
Marilyn Monroe,
In “River of No Return”,
Had on tight blue jeans.
Mom wore dresses.
(Did women have legs,
Or were they
Like mermaids under there?
And why did they leave
a toilet full of blood, sometimes?)
In the mid ‘50s
She got some tight pants,
With green, vertical lines
And some kind of flower pattern.
She had legs, and an ass.
(toosie, she'd taught us to call it,
A word that sounds like a cushion.)
I felt embarrassed when she wore them.
Then she got a denim skirt.
“It looks like blue jeans! ”
Said my brother Fred.
It did, with stitched, white
Pockets on the rear.
I felt I’d die, that eyes,
My own included,
Would rivet on Mother’s ass.
Blue jeans were for boys.
(Our mythologies, they say,
Determine how we dress—
In this case, how our parents
Dressed us, after the War,
In cities and in suburbs,
Little cowboys everywhere,
Kicking soccer balls
And sliding slides,
Who’d never plowed a field
Or herded cows.
I fantasized of boys, back then,
For blue jeans x-rayed bodies
With their pockets
And their rivets
And their stitches.
“This is beyond
Naked, ” I’d say to myself,
Wondering “Why isn’t it
Against the law? ”
Of course, I never asked aloud.)
And then, in junior high,
One shapely girl
started wearing
Tight blue jeans.
She found the secret first.
(Maybe she’d seen
“River of No Return”.)
Today, half the women
Who walk into the coffee shop
Are clad in that blue intrigue.
After 40 years of contemplation,
My mind still cannot penetrate
The intrigue and the mystery
Or dethrone the mythology
Of those streamlined bodies
That help to bring my world alive,
though clothed
In its illusions.
Tubes Wires Beeping Machines
Tubes, Wires Beeping Machines
Keeping you here with me
Make him better, make theses tears go away
Keep him holding on, keep him here with me
Fight for him untill he can fight himself
I need him here for me
I'm not ready to loose him forever
Tubes, Wires Beeping Machines
Please work please work
To keep him here I'm not ready for a good bye
Don't fail everyone loves him not just me
I'm not ready to say good bye
I need more time I want him at graduation
I want him to live so much longer
Tubes, Wires Beeping Machines
I thought you were supposed to help
I thought you'de make him better
I'm now looking at his picture
I'm crying as people talk of this great man
I wasn't ready to say good bye
We barry him today you could have saved him
I'm not ready for this good bye
poem by Lilly James
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Loves and laws
Loves and laws…
Loves will bend and loves have bench.
Bet my Betty loves in tents.
Hold to be the looks for best.
Men have chances are better rest.
Money ranks are fruits are trees.
Smart will pay our simple fees.
Wealth is ill to get but smart.
Heads and mouth are loving arts.
Love our smart as captain grand.
Roles of sexes are loves with DAN..
Strong and active all can love.
All the ways to banks have laughs.
Beauty trades are good to buy.
Dance on beds are happy guys.
Cat is fat and ranks are dirt.
Tyrants' ways are bad from birth.
Peking models sexes have BIO.
Loves as cats or dogs that mind.
Model BIO are teacher pets.
Free are open active sexes.
Jonny cash are PEKING MISS.
Greenish books are secret means.
Some are secret agents tools.
Goble crimes are gods as told.
--Cheung Shun sang=Cauchy3---
.
poem by Cheung Shun Sang
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I Need Someone Like Me
(Sanger D. Shafer)
Your out there somewhere and your crying
And I love you though we've never met
Wait there for me, I'll recognize you
Someone lonesome, someone hurtin', someone blue,
That'll be you
We'll help each other start all over
A tear for a tear
A shoulder for a shoulder
You'll be someone that's born to lose
'Cause I need someone like me
To hold on too
We'll help each other start all over
A tear for a tear
A shoulder for a shoulder
You'll be someone that's born to lose
'Cause I need someone like me
To hold on too
'Cause I need someone like me
To hold on too
song performed by by George Strait
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Detroit Medley
Devil with the blue dress, blue dress, blue dress
Devil with the blue dress on
Devil with the blue dress, blue dress, blue dress
Devil with the blue dress on
Fe, fe, fi, fi, fo, fo, fum
Look at Molly now, here she come
Wearin' a wig, hat, shades to match
High healed sneakers and an aligator hat
Wearin' her diamons, wearin' a big ring
She got rasors on her fingers and everything
Devil with the blue dress, blue dress, blue dress
Devil with the blue dress on
Devil with the blue dress, blue dress, blue dress
Devil with the blue dress on
Wearin' her perfume, Chanel number five
Got to be the finest looking woman alive
She looks so pretty every time she walks by
The boys are too nervous, even to say hi
Not too skinny, not too fat
She's a real humdinger and I like it like that
Devil with the blue dress, blue dress, blue dress
Devil with the blue dress on
Devil with the blue dress, blue dress, blue dress
Devil with the blue dress on
Good golly Miss Molly, sure like to ball
Good golly Miss Molly, sure like to ball
When you're rockin' and rollin'
Don't you hear your mama call
From the early, early morning to the early, early night
See Miss Molly rockin' in the house of blue light
Good golly Miss Molly, sure like to ball
When you're rockin' and rollin'
Don't you hear your mama call
Well c., c.c. rider
Come on see just what you've done
Well I said c., c.c. rider
Come on see just what you've done
You made me loving you
And now, now, now your man has come
Well now I'm goin' c.c. rider
Goin' to see my baby c.c. rider
And I won't be back c.c. rider
B
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Please youreslf
I think that ladies should ignore
The dictates of the fashion trade
The doubtful claims of haute couture
by so called experts often made.
A wise lady will choose her clothes
to show her assets at their best.
Not as the expert all suppose
to look exactly like the rest.
Dress to suit your face and figure
There is no need to buy in haste
clothes which make your rivals snigger.
Have faith in your own good taste.
Women come in many shades
different shapes and different sizes.
Mature matrons and slim young maids.
Every one that some man prizes.
A well dressed women who stands out.
Knows full well what she’s about.
She won’t let the experts tell her
how to dress to please her feller.
Some women have good fashion sense
but many lack the confidence
to tell the experts to get lost.
They can dress well at half the cost.
Fashion labels may sell clothes
but only silly girls suppose.
Only the latest style will do.
When obviously it is not true.
Suit yourself in the way you dress.
Choose the clothes that will suit you
If you do you will impress
in the way you ought to do.
Let all the fashion gurus prate
But don’t believe a word they say.
You know that you will look great
when you dress in your own way
Fashions come and fashions go.
You know when you’re looking good
What do the so called experts know? .
Ignore them as you know you should.
8-Feb-08
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Do not wait; the time will never be ""just right."" Start where you stand, and work with whatever tools you may have at your command, and better tools will be found as you go along.
quote by George Herbert
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A perfection
What is perfection?
You mean precision
Accuracy in action
Or planning in anticipation
Nobody is perfect
Good ideas to inject
Never say no or reject
Observe minutely the object
It may look different
It may not look apparent
There may be under current
Danger is always inherent
Master the art
Have good beginning or start
Dress up well and look smart
Integrate, neat well and be part
Come up with new innovation
Try come out of suffocation
Breathe fresh air with good intake
Recover the lost ground and retake
Earn the name and feel no shame
There is always prestige with good name
Nothing will go wrong or slide away
You may fine it in right way
Try to address it in well manner
You need no platform or good banner
Good manner and perfection will do it all
You will receive tumultuous welcome and call
Try to perfect with near perfection
You need not but may speak your action
it has nothing to do with lengthy speech
You may have all the chance on top to reach
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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A Day In The Life Of - Me!
I wake up in the morning and pull back the curtains, wide,
And look out through the window to view the world outside,
To see if the sky is blue or grey, sunny or with rain,
And see if the postman's on his way with letters that contain,
News of family and friends, and more 'bills' by the way,
Attempting to motivate the mind, and start another day.
With all the jobs I have to do before we leave the house,
To get the breakfast going, for self and for my spouse,
To put clothes in the washing machine, make sandwiches for lunch,
And add some fruit and maybe also, some biscuits we can munch.
To load the car with coats and bags, and other odds and ends,
And quickly venture off to work and see what the day sends.
With people wanting this and that and taking orders for
Various kinds of merchandise which we might have in store,
Writing down their preferences for all their different needs,
Sorting out the dates and times, working at different speeds.
Busy as we move along, through the hours set for work,
Having no time to rest awhile, there is no time to shirk.
The telephone keeps ringing, the doorbell's buzzing too,
I'd really love a cup of tea, but what am I to do,
There's 'can I have', 'would you please' and 'could you just this once',
I'm really getting hungry, my stomach, how it grunts.
There's 'what's the time? ' and 'must get done' before we start to close,
And having stood the whole day long, there's the pain that's in my toes.
Out go the lights, down come the blinds, it's time to pack away,
All the paperwork and goods that we have used today,
Sweep the floor, dust the shelves, check orders already placed,
Tidy everything away, and clear the bags of waste.
Switch off the lights, set the alarm, close and lock the door,
Jump in the car, slip off the shoes, now the toes are really sore.
Here's home at last but there's no rest yet, the washing in the drum
Must be hung up, so here we go. My feet are going numb.
There's vacuuming, and ironing, the meal to prepare and cook,
Oh, how I would love to just sit down and quietly read a book.
At last it's time to climb the stairs, I'm ready for my bed,
Until a 'certain' alarm, shatters the sweet dreams in my head.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Why Is It!
That…………
When you find a dress that’s a delight, it’s far too tight!
When you find just the right merchandise, it’s not in your size!
When you find a perfect fitting shoe, it’s in brown not blue!
When you find a shop that caters for your age, nothing in it is ‘the rage’!
When you search for nice elegant clothes, where you get them from, heaven knows!
You’re trying to look real smart, and not a tart, but the only designs are for the lower teens, .
At least there are jeans!
Oh, please don’t make us look so out of date, it’s not too late, to be an older beauty, a real cutie!
We’re certainly not past our ‘sale by’ date, never underrate us, MATE! ! !
There’s more to us than meets the eye, SWEETIE PIE! !
poem by Ernestine Northover
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bee In My Bonnet
I got a bee in my bonnet
Got a chip on my shoulder
I got a hole in my shoe
And my toes are getting colder
I got ants in my pants
I got fries in my thighs
I got a bone in my nose
I got frit in my ass
I got a bee in my bonnet
Got a chip on my shoulder
I got a flee in my ear
I wear my heart on my sleeve
I got a ticket for the train
And I'm ready to leave
I got a rockin' pneumonia
and the boogie woogie flu
I got the palpations
All because of you
I got a bee in my bonnet
Got a chip on my shoulder
I'm burning, with love
I got my fish on the line
I got my hand in the water
I know right from wrong
So I do what I oughta
I laugh in the day
I cry in the night
Woo hoo baby
Gonna be alright
I got a bee in my bonnet
Got a chip on my shoulder
I got a bee in my bonnet
Got a chip on my shoulder
song performed by by 10 Cc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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