|
Menu
|
|
|
Social
|
|
|
|
Twenty One
Contributed by
flavellm
on
Wednesday, 13th June 2012 @ 02:14:12 PM in AEST
Topic:
AngryPoetry
|
21 Years Old The world is at your feet and your in control so son what is it to be Asda, a call centre, or love on the dole
I wanted to be a architect but that was clearly a unrealistic ambition rightfully deserving sardonic comments and sneering derision but I never saw myself becoming a social-nuisance, hanging out in bus shelters and spending afternoons aimlessly walking around, discount shopping centres
I guess my future plans wont come to fruition thats not to say that I havn't got the ambition, it's more the life-time of debt you saddle, to finance the neccessary tuition It felt like a act of god but I finally got a job ears pricked and ready to respond to the tea-bell and I'm everybody's servile little helper plus I get to squint at a screen and dribble whilst hap-hazardly slapping spacebar and enter
Yes I am dissatisfied living in a society so stratified my senses have been dulled in a job of ceaseless monotony millions are sweating in the engine rooms of a business friendly economy where job satisfaction, recognition and self worth are becoming strange anomalies to the worker whose pittance of a pay packet is a injustice to his contribution but its a system where the most selfish and cunning habitually succeed and we're there servile, subordinate, fawning insignificance, ready to concede
28 years old Something queasy is churning inside as a resolute stance begins to slide flailing against this filthy rivers tide as waves of unemployment menacingly rise gibbering, quivering and spreading it fine just a weeks wage above the poverty line sunday dinners of watery gravy sweaty cabbage and tasteless meat its just a payday loan between you and being turfed out on the street your wifes on the kitchen floor sobbing the vein in your temple is throbbing its never been this desperate before its just a pawned wedding ring between you and the bailiffs knocking at your door
42 years old Looking into the eyes of the one you've brought into this world as you gently take her hand, trudging solemnly with a tear rolling down your cheek as she skips playfully alongside you down a warped and decrepit street innocent, unspoilt, unaffected, she's nine years old with the world at her feet
Copyright ©
flavellm
... [
2012-06-13 14:14:12] (Date/Time posted on
site)
Advertisments:
|
|
|
|
|
Sorry, comments are no longer allowed for anonymous, please register for a free membership to access this feature and more
|
|
All comments are owned by the poster. Your Poetry
Dot Com is not responsible for the content of any
comment. That said, if you find an offensive comment, please
contact via the FeedBack Form with details, including poem title
etc.
|
|
|
Re: Twenty One
(User Rating: 1 ) by sherrypink on
Monday, 18th June 2012 @ 04:55:28 AM AEST (User
Info | Send
a Message)
|
I hear what you are are saying and absolutely agree. |
|
|
Re: Twenty One
(User Rating: 1 ) by Former_Member on
Sunday, 15th July 2012 @ 01:21:51 PM AEST (User
Info | Send
a Message)
|
Some very good social-statement poetry. I don't know much about rap, but reading your work certainly leads me in that direction. You need a recording contract. |
|
|
|