Working Class

In cubicles,
as chains about our feet, they bind us,
Withholding motion and movement,
endorse they my kind.
These manacles,
protest captivity, they find us.
Outpouring notions of lament,
remorse we our lives
in cubicles.


8 Responses to “Working Class”

  1. I really like this poem, but I really, really hate the subject-verb inversions (“remorse we”, “endorse they”); they’re a sign of an inability to speak naturally when rhyming, which, if you’re going to rhyme, is a must. I’m also fairly sure that you can’t “remorse” a life, though you could regret or lament.

  2. First she tells me to be experimental, now she says to stop experimenting. I like walls. Walls don’t confuse me. They just stand there silently.

  3. Oops. Did I just crush your hopes and dreams? Experiment all you want. Just do it well. Oops! I did it again. (No, my last name is not Spears.) Seriously though … it could be a really strong poem. To me at least, it’s better than most of your stuff. I think I’m just too honest for my own good. Think of it this way: I care about your being a good poet. If I didn’t, I would just say, “Well, that’s pretty …” Criticism = love.

    Are you saying you would rather have a wall for a friend than me? I can’t imagine how you could say something so cruel. I am sure you meant something else, Greg.

  4. Nonsense. There is no such thing as “too honest.” It’s just that I can never tell what you’d actually like to see me try…

    And yes, nine times out of ten, I take the wall. 😉

  5. I’d like to see you try anything. I’m glad you did try something. Keep trying new things. (I suggest free verse, and more unusual metaphors than “my job is a prison/keeps me in chains/etc” … that’s a fairly standard, and therefore uncreative, metaphor. But that’s just me.) That doesn’t get you out of being criticized, though. FYI.

    Now I’m sad. A wall? Really? A wall could not be half the friend that I am … right?

  6. Oh, people, enough! The poem sucks. There, end of story.

    (Just kidding, buddy.)

  7. Hey now, when I wrote this I was sitting all but lifeless at work in the library, and imprisoned is just the way I felt.

    And Mark, I’m with you on this one and all of the recent ones. Everything has been horrible as of late, and I’d kill to write well again.

  8. I’m just saying, find a different way to say it.


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