Here’s a little poem I wrote about the office where I work, at UK Cash Cowboys. From what I hear, a lot of people feel this way about their jobs. It’s a sad indictment of the things we need to do, just to stay clinging to the surface of this planet for a few decades, in the world capitalism has built for us. What a lousy fist humans have made of life. We think we’re the smartest species but sometimes I think a bug would have a happier existence than most of us. How dumb is that? It’s just a short poem. Nothing really. A doodle. It’s called 5.30pm.
5.30pm
I do a little fist pump inside
Another day chalked off
On the cell wall
Wishing my life away
Longing for the day I retire
So I don’t have to work
In shitholes like this
Each day feels like a prison sentence
Weekends I get out on parole
Then Mondays banged up again
There’s some good people
Mostly the other cons I work with
But the warders
Who run this joint
Arrogant, high-handed bunch
Of corporate tossers
You wouldn’t piss on them
If they were on fire
Welcome
To UK Cash Cowboys plc
by 