PoetrySelf & Psychological Fragmentation

Free From Work: Surviving Until 66?

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Old Lady Smiling

Work

Work, work, work, work, work.
Need cash they pay you just to get to work.
The home, taxes, energy, water’s flow,
& some fuel a car or two they run.

Buy food & clothes & communication.
The hairdos, acrylic nails, & temptation
Of booze, cigs, or the white line’s glow –
Odd night out & warmth when it snows.

Children demanding new crepes & coats,
It’s no joke. The bank say don’t be a jerk
& grab this credit: pay us back after,
As you work, work, work, work, work –

A charade said the sage in life’s parade,
In prison but not a cell in this matrix facade.
55 & good behavior they may let you go.
Can’t afford it? Can’t shirk till 66.

How long do you have to serve the lewd?
Watch out. It could just happen you.


Back to Identity, Self & Fragmentation

Another poem from the archive:

The Candid Verse

Under a Searing Sun

Related source:

State pension from 67 to 68

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