Pieces of My Life : April 2014

Today's poem is topical
It is timely
I wrote it on time
I'm still rushing it though
I think about my obligations
My denial of reality
The important things that I have to do
It frustrates me
I wonder how the greats did it?
Where did they find, steal, get the time?
Did they diddle at the office?
How did they work and write?
How was their mind occupied?
Was it occupied by the capitalist economy?
Did they fight against their boss's driving need?
How did sensitive souls survive the 20th Century?
Can I survive the 21st?
Perhaps I need to think of my voice as essential
My work can't remain dormant in my brain
I have to work for the creative life being stamped out and shoved around
The poor economy strangles our dreams, for fear that only "real work" pays
Our lives are commodity, we are labor inputs in the factory economy
   Industrialized, Extra-strength, Scientifically Tested, Originals
   This is good right? The marketing speak? The uniquely western jargon that
    sells lots and keeps us
     coming to work, and coming to the stores. Products we can be proud of.
We think
    But what if the black box of labor and work, corrupts the inputs?
    What if daily use for hours weakens the source material?
     What if flawed labor inputs, leads to flawed products,
   and then it all starts to break down?
   But the internal structural integrity of my labor unit is considered unessential
As long as the majority of what is needed for work is there
We can't halt the economy just because you feel bad, feel broken.
   Psyche is not quantifiable, if you are truly maladjusted take a pill
   Absolutely no days off, Showing up is half the battle
   Get some productivity in. Don't be weak.
   And yet, no one analyzes the soul crush responsibility of the black box
   See the way my work is structured . . .
   May be untenable for my health but
Bob is persevering, nay, thriving. He hits his sales goals
Professor Olino can keep up with the crushing publishing race
Well clearly these college students are the best of the best with their unbelieveable resumes
   Unbelievable resumes. Incredible Achievements.
    Perhaps that is the goal.
Every 4 years, the Olympics come around to remind us that
It is not enough to be your country's best, or to be among the best in the world
What truly matters is that you are 1 of the 3 out of 100s.
   The super human of the super humans. For those are the only ones who truly matter.
Who am I, mere mortal, who needs breaks, gets bored, feels weary.
   Dare I call the work of the gods, mind-numbing, dull, reptitive?
Don't knock the structure, how could you dare? They let you know
"clearly with your work ethic you could never build anything this great"
And that is their mythos, that this grinding pressure, this fierce competition
That is the primarily evil broth that gave birth to our society's best achievements.
But that, would be a lie.

Poem: "Apex Hides the Hurt" (But why do you hurt? Ah, that's your personal problem, we have a mass-solution to fix each of them).
Author:

Pieces of My Life

Wednesday, April 16, 2014

I owe poems: 16 April 2014

Thursday, April 3, 2014

National Poetry Month #NPM Poem #3

Poem #2 National Poetry Month, #NPM