IS THIS US?

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  • Life

    Poem Commentary

    Most of the material i write I really dont know if it is poetry or if its more of abook all spread out in peices in my mind. Some of it gets really dark even though I am a believer of GOD.

    IS THIS US?

    This is me, a piece of what was long ago began. A soul lost among the living. A drone to a retail corporation to which no one sees yourself. An illusion of embroiled self destruction. Bee's among the hive, only to fight a long battle, to loose ones life with no rewards or final accomplishments. To report day by day a grouling routine of same scenarios never changing. To be looked upon as a peon in a billion dollar world and go unnoticed to people so consumed in the everyday have-to-do's and coupon clippings just to save a penny. Money is the root of all evil they say, but greed is the true evil among us. At the end of the day of serving the consumers we recycle the hard earned, hand blistering, back breaking money and start agian in a never ending realm of the living but look and act like the dead...

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    cmlestrade commented on IS THIS US?

    02-05-2010

    The quote actually goes as follows "For the love of money is the root of all kinds of evil. And some people, craving money, have wandered from the true faith and pierced themselves with many sorrows" That does seem like it could be speaking of greed but coupon clipping and similar activities may be wise in this shaky economy where so many don't have enough resources. It sounds like you are trapped in a job for which you get very little compensation from those you serve. Maybe it's just time for a change to someplace where you will be appreciated.

    scarr8045

    02/11/2010

    Thank you for the comment, you are right I am a walmart employee I work electronics. My only choices are slim with no education and no employment down south. Im also juggling two kids with no help. Thank you agian for the comment you nailed it right on the head sweetheart.

    Poetry is not an expression of the party line. It's that time of night, lying in bed, thinking what you really think, making the private world public, that's what the poet does.

    Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997) U.S. poet.

    scarr8045’s Poems (3)

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    JUDGEMENT 2
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    IS THIS US? 1

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