the uphill scrambleA Poem by delapruchna.our way to the end of the work day is through laughter & as long as we must endure this system’s bullshit absurdity, where we work for crumbs thrown to us by the 1% of the rich tossing them to us from the table, we must get through it (at the same time resisting it within, constantly looking for ways to dismantle it)--- if still employed, still churning like a gear rumbling with the rest in this poorly oiled machine grinding grinding stalling spitting up debris & slowing down to a dragging pace behind the rising powers amidst us, the “now” still rears its ugly head, subtracted right down to the passing minutes, the watching of the clock, the passing hours, the watching of the clock & the final release when the routine ends & we’re allowed an interval to breathe from the clock to the car from the clock to the subway train from the clock on the walk home from the clock onto the bus & the bus to the walk & the walk to the subway--- regardless of your own personal pilgrimage, you’re not alone in this.
what can be done during the day, during the actual “doing” of the work, is the telling of jokes, making each other crack up--- remember that funny thing you saw on television the other day? telling a coworker or coworkers can liven things up & invigorate conversation & communication, which though constantly being thwarted against by the company, make for a more human workplace existence, no?
sharing detailed descriptions of our lives outside the machine, speaking about our upcoming exciting events or just making fun of the boss man, all can free us from the tasks at hand & make us remember that there are things this machine cannot take away.
though our experiences might not seem comparable, these are all ways to embrace the passing time creating a better life from within despite the supervisors buzzing like flies around our heads despite the pressing deadlines despite the unreasonable or downright impossible quotas, the solidarity that comes from separating the “authority” from the actual working people of this empire is what gives us strength, for certainly there have always been more of us than them & until the day when the tables turn, letting anyone silence you in order to maximize efficiency, letting anyone stress you our more than you are already over the insignificant nature of those “issues” which the man would like you to “address”--- from your attire to the time you come back from a lunch break, this kind of subjection of the self will get us nowhere but dead, quicker, when the stress kicks in.
© 2012 delapruch |
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Added on May 12, 2012 Last Updated on May 12, 2012 Authordelapruchnothingville, NYAboutBio: The writer we call delapruch has been writing since infancy. His first piece was scrawled on the inside of his mother’s womb. Long since published, the rights now reside in the hands o.. more..Writing
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