Dedicated to all those real, hard working folk the Republicans think of as “a drag on the economy”
But who we know, in reality, are the backbone of this country.
Do the verses seem like doggerel? Perhaps.
Like the language of working folk? Certainly!
No pretense, no airs, no fancy footwork here.
Simple, plain, honest, work.
I will start things off with some quatrains about people I have met in my travels around the globe and I invite you all to add to them with your own 4 line verses in the comments until we have a true cross section off occupations and situations from all over the nation (or the world).
Our aim is to express, in poetry, the depth and breadth of the American working spirit; to throw it back squarely in the pasty, overfed faces of the Boehners, Cantors and Walkers.
Won’t you join us?
Ballad of the Workers
Small man with hands of a giant
Union metal worker all his life
Wedding singer and erstwhile poet
70 years married to the same wife
Same desk in the Sydney GPO
For almost 30 years where she
Stamped the forms the postmen signed
Then passed them on to me
“Good morning, afternoon or evening
Can I speak to the head of this household?”
Repeated 20 times on 20 doors each hour
To transfer to “do not bend/staple/fold”
In Hong Kong my right hand man
A bilingual scholar of east and west
Ten years younger than I and
Immeasurably older by any other test
The Bahasar stock market opens
With an offer of three coffee cans
Of rice for the squawking chicken
Three hours later, the two shake hands
In the middle of Luzon a family tends
Neatly aligned rows of mango, papaya
A ‘fruit salad’ plantation they call it
Pineapple, breadfruit, banana
Headed south from Birmingham
On a bus full of A/C contractors
Air thick with southern accents
Definitely not actors
Factory floor Stockton CA
Where they bag the walnut crop
Tony runs the graveyard shift
Picking season they never stop
Steve is our pilot today as we film
A plume of smoke over 5000’ high
Engine fails. Dead sticks us down.
Glides into a field. Breathe a heavy sigh
Taiwanese pig farmer experiments
With western antibiotic supplements
Explodes with string of Mandarin curses
Corporation gets no compliments
Group of retirees on Long Island agree
To help with the new found anxiety
About dealing with retirement; new
Phenomenon for Japanese society
Twenty patients in the waiting room today
This group of doctors will see them all
Whether they are insured or not
True professionals will not let them fall
Coffee cart in a coastal town
6 each morning, rain or shine
Warm drink, warmer smile
And all is fine
The lame passenger waves in vain,
He thinks. But no, the bus waits
Though he’s not at the stop. Another
Working man shares our common fates
Shouted over roar of thousands
Of walnuts by the ton
The bagging floor manager explains
In 8 weeks short weeks the season’s done
Charlie played for Al
In the Raiders hey day
Now he fights for crippled players
Forces the league to pay
Paint shop super in an auto plant
Xenophobic, racist, white, man
Swallows hard when shop begins
To manufacture autos from Japan!
Hell’s angel with a limp
Manages new age bookstore
Low handicap golfer
What a triple score
Every Monday morning
For 40 years or more
He rang the bell at 7:51am
And opened the school door
The second child was
A bonnie bouncing boy
She raised a family of 4 all told
They are her pride and joy
On every corner in every town
You will find me there for you
With slushys, hot dogs, ciggys, chips
At your convenience too
Once I owned a clean pair
Then you bought your car to me
And ever since I slid underneath
My jeans have been dirteee!
I used to work in the mill
But the Valley has been closed
For nigh on ten years now
So now I’m a greeter at Wal-Mart
(Sorry, don’t feel like rhyme today)
Those eggs you had for breakfast
Did not just magically appear
My chickens did a lot of clucking
With me as overseer
Next time you take a plane
Spare a thought for the baggage crew
If wasn’t for those thoughtful folk
Which city would your bags be (wrongly for
no apparent reason and without your consent
or knowledge that this was happening) sent to.
Can’t breathe, can’t breathe: 911
“Here we are sir, relax.” The same refrain
“Put this nitro under your tongue.”
EMT to the rescue again
© CJ Campbell 2011
Walking on nurse-shoed feet
She bends to the plastic trash can
The knee joints and heart strain and creak
This life -- a mockery of her plan.
Back and forth bearing plates of sustenance
Filling bellies of those with plenty money
Days filled with this “can I serve you?” dance
Skeevy strangers calling you honey.
They jump off the trucks and grab a can
Dump trash and jump back on
No one ever sees the actual man
In his absence, they bitch, moan and groan.
How can it be explained to him?
Fathers should love you with no harm
Outside the teacher pay grade and grim
Yet to hug him would sound the alarm.
We lost so many after 11th September
Losing them to bad air til' today
Three off the roof, last November
They're dying--the Feds don’t want to pay.
Man the trucks and spray with water
Cook like family and mourn the dead
Smoke inhalation and falling through mortar
They run with courage…straight ahead.
rubyr
A clinic under attack with glue poured into locks
but just a phone call will get you in to see her
critical concern for the good health of all women
if she could, she would prescribe for you sweet myrhh
A commander of potholes and misbehaving traffic
between the double-parked and the hairpin turns
every stop he takes like a bee to a flower
every stop becomes a thankful sojourn
A constant parade of folks who buy
always in a hurry and with fluster
and she will bag their apples and the freshly baked bread
while wearing a countenance of luster
Those who dare to tread where others will not
in a world inclined towards decrepitude
scrubbing and shoveling and mopping and restoring
for all of this you have my deepest gratitude
Caught for well over a decade now
between ungrateful fans and record company avarice
a difficult living, but still making music
creating sweet and rhythmic melodies for our bliss
asterkitty
Mouse in hand, diagrams grow
Make all the interfaces connect
Don't leave the chair, stare at the screen
If you're a system architect.
Im a frayed knot
I'm too old to flip these burgers
But while the onions cook
I'll dream of a cafe on the Left Bank
Where I sip coffee and smoke, and don't work
hydrocarbons - complex, gassy
serve to move your volvo's chassis
the phantom pain so often lingers
where I used to have more fingers
Lorinda Pike
18 Wheels rolling under
600 miles looming ahead
sleep schedule rendered asunder
smokes and coffee keep his head
Bugs buzz, cocks crow
Eyes open, legs walk
Hose sprays, plants grow
World eats, earth talks.
In the oven, on the stove or
sizzling grill, or raw for health
endless burger, flip it over
serve it to ungrateful wealth.
A special item included for its delightful
insults and pointed barbs aimed at
you know who.
hearken to a gritty tale
of work, and then work faster
to see that work works for the worker
you stupid orange bastard!
Whimsical Rapscallion
Dr. Data scans the dots of decimals
and peruses charts for evidence of Grand Mals
he may find his crystalline mind offshored
but the patient will not be reassured.
Barbwires
Popping pills into patients
sliding needles into veins
oral cares, peri-cares
then do it all again
Thick little box of a room
wet yellow blob of primer
easy now, slow and steady
don't want to go boom
Scribe
Banjo Teacher
Cacophony of student strings
Sour notes rise to the top
Mixing with the offbeat things
Cause music to never stop
Lay Reader
The fledgling words of generation
Faceless souls to your nest
The syntax of imagination
Marks words back to digest
Mother Shipper
Why Be a Poet?
When we laid down our weapons
When the conflict came to cease
We told each other tales of
Everlasting hope, everlasting peace
ulookarmless
Additions in April 2012
I drive this taxi 18 hours a day
Send money back to Pakistan
Until all my family get here
But you would not understand
Trained for five years as a master cabinetmaker
In my younger days my work was called great art
Now that I am older, machines produce pale copies
The only job available is greeter at a Walmart
Trash man trash man trash man trash
What can I get for a pile of cash?
Trash man trash man trash man trash
Two dead dogs and a coffin full of ash
For Lightbulb
4/24/2012
For those who share their bread
While loading gold for the wealthy
We stand beside you all the way
In a society less than healthy
ulookarmless
Freshly-minted widows wail,
my lunch waits, uneaten.
Splints are made and applied,
but for many I can only hold and witness.
Tomorrow will be different,
except exactly the same,
for time & tide may wait for no one,
but the Paramedic visits them all.
Thinking Fella
Let's hear about your heroes.
Peace
CJ