Corporate junkies suck out the lives
Of all the dew eyed miners,
They long for their homes,
Lost souls in grey worlds,
Searching through the fruitless trees.
Lost generations howl with dismay,
As tabloid tales pave broken streets,
Lack of culture breeds lack of protection,
Whilst polluted politicians terrorise the skies,
And drain away the already empty seas,
We the masses just sing along,
To radio approved marketing material,
Like there’s nothing we can do.
Written from my desk on a slow afternoon, the phrase ‘corporate junkie’ is something I’ve jotted in several notebooks over the years. I guess I have quite anti-corporate views. I feel isolated by the stark robotic grey surroundings and attitudes. The urban environment where my work is situated offers plenty of greenery but empty aspirations on the faces of the workers.
This is the first piece in the corporation series of poetry I am writing. Along side it I’m writing an Office series
It ironic I feel so anti-corporate given it’s one that pays my salary. It makes me yet another hypocrite of the machine (and they are already everywhere I look). I long to break free of it yet depend on my career success to take me there.There is however, one positive (other than being able to pay the rent) in that it provides me with plenty of creative fodder.
To me this piece feels apocalyptic, I imagine an Orwellian world, grey, squalid, with a stoic existence much more pronounced than ours already is.
I’d appreciate your thoughts.