The graveyard silence
Who can imagine it ?
Who has been through it ?
Come tell me if I’m right
It all begins with murmurs
As ghosts begin to gather
For the eight hourly show
In the freezing cold rooms
All heads bowed
Hiding the contoured faces
Only the soundless shuffling
Of heads and pens and lips
Then bells and clanks and rustlings
Familiar cries from screens
The great fall of a pin
From the busy Jack’s table
Such yokes of white collar !
Oh Lord have mercy !
On these whispering souls
Is this a jungle of books
Or a place of work
The place for active minds ?
Different folks, different strokes
Come with me to see
A better place to be
Where iron’s cry abounds
In their various grounds
Where every vender’s voice
Collide in a bedlam
In vendoral mastery
Of the daily bread race
Come with me to see
The accelerated engines
Trailed by accelerated heels
Responding to accelerated voices
All streaks of blue collar!
Irons sharpening irons
Irons bounding woods
Irons searing bones
In the vendible arena
A perfect place to be?
1 comment:
Different yokes for different folks. Work place means different thing to different people. However, no matter what it means to different folks, i believe it should be an interesting place to be.
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