Workplace Machine

The morning sun

Bends and twists

It changes

Minute by minute

In the reflection

Of

The buildings

Sky-glass

Windows of sparkle

All for the lifeless sheep

To gaze upon

As they crawl

Their way into work

Their faces are long

And

Lost of expression

All because

They’re waiting for

The workweek to begin

Waiting for the coffee

To drip from the dripper

Self-inflicted misery

For another day’s pay!

God knows how many times

I’ve been in their shoes

And

How I’m still there

A few days a week!

Within a few hours of working

The counting of minutes will start

A quick glance at the wall clock

To see

The day is far from over

And

The Boss

The Shepherd

Is constantly frowning

His smile was lost

With the collapses of the market

The fall

Of

His 401k something-another

His morning

Drives at the range

Are now nothing

But a memory

A thought

Fleeting at that!

So the sheep

Have good cause to worry

To sweat

To cry secretly

In the restroom

But before all of this

Worry in the workplace

This stress to make

Green colored paper

They must travel

Like ants to the mound

Bumper to bumper

The sheep

Are fed

To the workplace machine

One soul at a time

Losing all that was

And

Becoming all they never

Intended to be!

From my book, When The Cedars Shade Your Grave