SadismA Poem by Kenneth The Poettired and exhausted,
the bones are losing mass metaphorically speaking,
full-time employment is full-time sadism,
working beyond forty per week turns a person's feet from iron to clay,
no energy to do housework,
no energy for child care,
you are the wage slave defined,
and one always serves something, to paraphrase the great Bob Dylan
god or no god, you are a slave to some god,
the other people know this and don't care to be reminded of it,
that's why the phrases shut the f**k up, get over it and don't let the door hit you in the a*s on the way out were invented,
it's not surprising why so many people kill themselves each day,
maybe the federales should invest some of our nonexistent capital in that idea called accept reality for what it is and move the f**k forward,
if it actually works, we might be able to get this country out of this wet cement debt pit
of course, the federales drink revenue like it is tequila from a stripper's belly, so the boulder that rolls back down hill is going to kill Sisyphus first,
to expect otherwise is folly, and since taxes are going up soon on everybody, expect the long work weeks to stay long indefinitely,
tired and exhausted,
forever and ever,
sadism at the hands of life itself,
so who exactly is the sadist now?
no wonder suicide is so easily chosen,
when you owe a gambler's debt and you don't gamble and you didn't spend the money, then sadism is the wrong word to use,
the actual word is evil or sinister,
either way, the wage slaves can't rebel against that because debt always exists as does exhaustion brought on by involuntary sadism,
it's the law of things after all © 2012 Kenneth The Poet |
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2 Reviews Added on November 26, 2012 Last Updated on November 26, 2012 AuthorKenneth The PoetBismarck, NDAboutKenneth The Poet is an optimist wrapped in the candy shell of moroseness and cynicism. He lives between the two parallels marked 46 and 49, all while living in the state marked 39. He pretends that he.. more.. |

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