Well-versed in deflection
Adept sleight-of-eye
We swallow confection
No hint of a lie
With no information
To pad out the cues
We’re sunk in deflation
That borders abuse
And used to the stories
So rarely explained
We vote for HisTories
And nothing is gained
Consistent imprudence
Of well-feathered nest
Career jurisprudence
You-know-who knows best
We’re damned by inaction
To more of the same
A knee-jerk reaction
And someone to blame
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
Caught between insolvency
And fast dwindling sanity
My mind slowly numbed
By the daily inanity:
To pay our rent and bills
That roll in despite my thrift
I prostitute my skills
And in limbo I must drift.
To utilise my brain
Or my imagination
At work would be insane
An idea far above my station:
The humble secretary
Must lighten others’ loads
Polite, always on time
And in nicely fitting clothes.
We mustn’t get too comfy
Or feel we are unique
As, impertinent, we’re fired
If we don’t turn the other cheek.
I hope my childrens’ children
Will not have to do the same
As what they term ‘profession’
Is truly a mug’s game.
