Category Archives: workplace politics

Men At Work

Curse the tailors
For theirs are the blindfolds and the mask of truth
Curse the steelworkers
For theirs are the bullets and barbwire

It’s Not All Doom And Gloom

Cops push out addicts
Living under bridges
Then talk them down
From jumping off them
Suicide rates are jumping
But it’s not all bad news
At least the stock market
Reached another high

My Resume And Resignation

I am qualified to lie
I can secure the account
I can punch a clock
I can torque a wrench
Turn a cheek, twist a screw
Shuck some corn
and fly a kite

Runaway Trains

There’s this divide
Thirty seconds wide
Trillions of commercials long
Most everyone I have ever met
Want to save the planet
While filling up with gas
Or vote to save the environment
But refuse to leave their cars

The Voice of Alexia

They say the gauge of railroad tracks
Is the same width of Roman chariots
When i hear the trains go by every night
Trumpeting their 7 million dollar suicidal horns
I hear the clickity clack over Chinese immigrants
Backs and listen to the Christian and the lion
Still negotiating some kind of deal

Mountain Mettle

Mountain don’t give a fuck
Way up there we must appear
Like nests of rustling ants and ticks
Scurrying about everywhere
Making jobs, lies and politics

The Abolition of the Automobile

So one of the most remarkable and hardest decisions that I have made recently was to sell my car. Obviously, for a lot of Americans the decision to sell their car would be unconscionable. It was a difficult one for me. I loved my car. However, there comes a time when the very act of ownership becomes a reinforced complicity in a failed and rapacious big oil paradigm that is predicated on the domination and exploitation of this place we call Earth.

Cara’s Music Corner (Part II)

My boyfriend said listening to Bell Witch is like going to the bathroom. You probably don’t want to spend too much time in there. It’s best just to get in, enjoy the release and then get the hell out. I think he mostly referred to the low sounding vocals and growls. But on an existential level, the same could be said for mourning and grief. I only hope the next time I have to visit that paradoxical space it will be just as tortured, beautiful and epiphanic as listening to a Bell Witch song.