Poem: Work

We need work, meaningful work

That feeds the soul

Rather than sucking it dry

But we get jobs instead

Dull, boring, inane

Where the moment

We walk through the door

Our true selves are hidden from sight.

We stack our time, try to abide

The long hours, mindless tasks, horrible meetings and

Asshole bosses, always talking about leadership and

Teamwork and value statements,

Market penetration

Synergy

Whatever buzzwords and corporate-speak they read

Or Ted Talk they watched

While vacationing in Fiji or Bali;

It all sounds like gibberish and is replaced in no time

With shiny new buzzwords.

The fruit of our toil belongs to another,

While we wither on the vine. The job steals our

Best years, our youth and vitality.

And when we outlive our usefulness or become too

Demanding

We are cut loose and in no time forgotten, replaced

By another drone.

Maybe we answer the call of Uber or Lyft

Become a bit player in the so-called gig economy, tenuous ties

And independent contractor status;

Or we pack it all in -- pride, self-respect -- and apply at

WalMart

Or

Target

Or

Amazon.

Then we die.