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| Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 29-May 11:53:20 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 172988
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Twenty One
[time] => 2012-06-13 14:14:12
[hometext] => I decree today that life is simply taking and not giving, England is mine and it owes me a living
[bodytext] => 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 [comments] => 2 [counter] => 164 [topic] => 6 [informant] => flavellm [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => AngryPoetry )
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