poems

Machine hums rumbling loudly, pulleys, belts motor roars

Insidious clanking, screeching, and clattering, temporary hearing loss

Repetitive stretching, bending, lifting, physically expended

Hands swollen tendonitis, sweat in eyes dust sits on my “lids”

Machine mechanic cynical demeanor, parts connected by our pain ridden hands

Sliced finger blood dripping on metal, we don’t show we’re hurt, to proud to say

Time clicks by hour by hour, slowly the end marches forward

You know not the time, must go on, machine hardly stops, breakneck speed

Urine rising fast, long hours no break, horn blows shift change, non to soon

Fellow com padres, groups of diversity, tensions ‘tween some, cannot smile all the time

Second work to make ends meet, struggling with socialist policies, economic expectations low

Companies screw us, no incentives, pocket cash for CEO, sharp shrewdness underlies corporate thieves

Social Security running dry, economic drought “Made in America”, land of the struggled masses

Shift horn blows loud, time to come to your senses, time to take care of life’s ambiguities

We are the hard migrant laborers of work

© 2014  •  Art-Tronic Design, LLC  •  James Killmer