a poem called the clock

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
na.

Submitted: February 03, 2012

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Submitted: February 03, 2012

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the worst enemy of the worker---

it stares back at you ticking away

informing quietly

of every single second, minute, hour

that you will never ever get back &

the worker shakes their fist at it

mentally, if not physically,

hoping that by some magic act,

a few hours will suddenly pass

for no reason but the satisfaction of the

onlooker.

 

the worker who hates the clock

has always hated the clock

for they do not have a career

which defines them & makes others love them

(holding them above the rest of us with jobs).

 

the worker who wants to bash in the face of the clock

knows that they are replaceable &

that what they do is only valuable on an hourly

basis---

they do not hold a salary &

therefore,

every minute spend in front of that ticking

tyrant,

is one more closer to being laid off, “let go,” or

fired---

whereas those who hardly notice it is there,

go on their merry salaried way

into the weekend.

 

if you know this enemy,

do not try & win it over

for it will not budge---

do your best to ignore it &

focus your hatred on those who do not need

to abide by it &

the next time you hear the words “middle class”

pop out of the mouth of some scumbag lying

politician,

as if we were all living in a motherfucking disney

movie,

know that you are not alone

in this march towards death. 

 

our time will come when all the clocks will be

smashed.

 


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