Volume Dealer

another employment turndown

one of eighteen, then one of four

then number two, runner up, loser

with no consolation prize

rejected by his wife he was 37

and back in college

had not worked for 14 months,

now, divorced, living with a sister

on a thin pull-out bed

he could not run a backhoe or drive

a diesel truck and he would die

before the factories would get him--

a suit and tie salesman for years

he could not do that cut-throat work again

"the possibilities are here", read the ad

"we're the volume dealer",

it was enough to make him vomit

the help wanted was useless and being a vet

was useless and the state employment office

was useless and the hiring agencies were useless

and it took money to make money

the final mask of illusion was ripped away

the face of brutality burned like the sun,

with all the failures and pain

life was still worth living

Thomas R. Young ©

First North American Rights Only

March 17, 2004

The Presidents Gift To America

there are these stories in the media

about the drug war, drugs are bad,

turn in users and make money and of

police interdiction made into a jobs industry

of crime and perpetrator,

of detection and conviction,

guilty or not and of

punishment and payment

a manufactured war,

a politicians war,

used to justify the rape of Liberty

and the Bill of Rights in the names

of Security and Freedom

and the corporate bottom line

these stories in the media

and no one wants to talk about the

growing urge in us to self-destruct,

to talk of why so many feel trapped

in a world they never made,

this new politically correct world of

proper Hegelian synthesis,

of why anyone would want to feel better,

even joyous in this advertisement

we call the U.S.A.

and they wonder why

in this land of lies and doublespeak

why so many turn to something to

escape into, anything

to place you for a little while somewhere

between the creature we are in nature and

the machine we are becoming

Thomas Young, 2005

tyoung@netpluscom.com

Kneeling Before The Rich

from the first time I met him

he was always the faithful dog

the first to arrive at the office

to turn on the lights and the copier and

make coffee for the day-old

donuts he sometimes brought

even then you could tell he was

on the inside,

he could taste management

and one day would be management

but he never was management

he did not know what to do with the bit of

power he inherited and he lost

himself in it, turning then, on old work buddies

when a rift was necessary between them

and a future, at all costs

with the Company

gone now were the early glory days

when work meant something

when we were building

when work was good,

now everything was reduced to the grinding out

of canvas after sales canvas and

phone book after book,

like thorns waiting to be plucked when

the roses have withered away

and the faithful dog

smug and secure behind his

Desk and his Title

awaits his masters next command

kneeling before the rich

Thomas R. Young

2047 Norwood Blvd.

Zanesville, Ohio 43701

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KILL THE RICH

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