The Trade

Where is this freedom
Promised me
When first they told me
Work makes free?

I look around
And know I’m lost –
What’s free I buy
At such a cost

No youth, enjoyment
Holidays
Solid employment
Only pays

In minted coin
As all are robbed
Of our free time
We’re bobbed and jobbed

And pensioned off
Freely to freeze
As Winter brings us
To our knees

A lifetime spent
In servitude
While taking care
To save on food

Essentials only
Frugal thrift
Is hardly free
To those who drift

Through twilit streets
And shopping malls
In suits and boots
Or overalls

No longer knowing
Why they strive
For Freedom finds
Few left alive

The January Blues

I am finding my diet depressing
(A first world complaint, you’ll agree)
For in spite of the shakes, and the carbs, and the breaks
I am moody, sore, tired and hungry

Yet they tell me it’s worth it to diet
It shows character, willpower, poise
And with less spent on meat, you invest what you’d eat
In a dress to attract all the boys

So I guess I should stick with the program
For another few days at the least
If I make it that far, on an energy bar
You could use to scrub pots of their grease

I’m not sure I buy in to the concept
That the thin are more healthy and glam
And a girl in her prime must waste quite so much time
On starvation to bag her a man

No, I’m doing this thing to feel healthy
So the stairs are not quite such a chore
If eschewing all cheese, last year’s jeans pass my knees
It’s a bonus worth nothing at all