Most Commented Work Poems (218)

A factory full of odds and ends, assembled and arranged in lines by non-mechanical beings.
Punchdrunk time cards chart their lives through typical weeks with typical tasks.
Printing the barcodes, scanning the barcoded things.
Plotting points on a graph, crunching numbers - like a cog in a machine.

Come one
Come all
To the cheap crap give away!
Come to Kmart
You only have 9 days left to go
After that we won't be here any more
Neither will our many employees
Where will they go to find work to replace their jobs here?
Maybe they'll go to a factory job
Where they'll work long hours in dangerous conditions
With dangerous mean people
Backstabbers, bullies, and gossipers
Oh my!
So come real soon
Our three temps are holding signs to remind you
That you only have nine days left to get 70% off stuff!
Kmart is closing on March 20, 2017

Number of employees hired by year

2015 18 2002 6 1989 5 Total employees 405
2014 57 2001 1 1988 3 Largest hire year 2007
2013 61 2000 7 1987 4
2012 6 1999 11 1986 1
2011 10 1998 11 1985 0
2010 1 1997 9 1984 2
2009 0 1996 6 1979 10
2008 24 1995 2 1978 6
2007 62 1994 7 1977 6
2006 22 1993 8 1976 2
2005 8 1992 2 1974 1
2004 13 1991 2 1966 1
2003 5 1990 5

Here there is no privacy
Here there is no safety
Here there is pain
Here there is fear
The Noise, The Noise, the Noise!
Clang, Clang!
Bang! Bang!
Shouting and Shouting
Frustration
My head is on fire with rage
My body is on fire with discomfort
I feel it in my feet
I feel it in my hands
My eyes seeing the evil
My soul feeling like it's rotting inside of me
Yeah
It really feels like a prison at work

Over 3,300 years ago there lived a man named Moses
He believed in making a six day work week
With Sunday as a day of rest
He also made sure they had enough to eat
These were slaves that he gave these rights
They made no money off of their work
But he saw the positive effect of letting people rest
This gave them hope
This restored their health
They why in 2015 are people forced to work on Sunday
For the same reasons the pharaohs did it 3,300 years ago
Power and greed

Here I am looking at this paper and holding a pen,
trying to think of something to write about again.
But every time I try, I just come up blank,
As if there is nothing life in my think tank.

I use to be good at this, this writing thing,
it use to be I could write about anything.
Now I can barely scribble out a couple lines,
and think about how this is all just a wast of time.

Even now I staring at the clock,
only because I can't think of an original thought.
So I look at the tv and what do I see,
just my reflection looking back at me.

So maybe it's time to give up on this writing thing,
even though I love it more then anything.
Or maybe I'll sit and stare at the clock,
wishing I could get out of this writers block.

The day is for work and so night is the best,
A much treasured sleep, my so beloved rest,
The comfortable folding of hands upon chest,
And here I go creeping t'wards nothingness.

Oh look, it is time for an afternoon nap,
But it should have been twenty, now hours have passed,
The comfortable laying of hands on the lap,
And here I go creeping t'wards wanting and lack.

Hardly open for buis' I prefer the closing of lids
Why work to get rich, my dreams are for this,
The comfortable laying of head upon wrist,
And here I go creeping t'wards if only, I wish!
J.S.

Only drops of sweat beating off my brow
On long simmering days of summer heat
Won't fail a heart in content up to now
Withers away my spirits in defeat

Bucket by bucket from a well running dry
Carefully spilt onto each tender plant
Soaks into the earth must give it a try
Enough to hold on be ever so scant

Hope is forecast looks promising for rain
Back to the fields with a hoe in my hand
Pulling more weeds and fertilize again
Cause now is the time to make a firm stand

Success or failure when rains at last come
Counts how you measure with a rule of thumb

The dance floor was empty until the pink vest crew walked on
We danced to everything no matter what song
We danced with the cool guys
Watch where their hands go! (A word from the wise)
We danced with the guys who came alone
And we danced with the girls who took pictures with us with their phones
Keeping the dance floor alive was our job and we did it so well
We dragged everyone from off the walls and got them dancing to the DJ
We handed out flyers at the front persuading guys and girls to come in all night and day

As the night closed we had a dancing competition on stage
I never felt so happy
But this job comes with a lot of controversy
Bad opinions and negative views
I made £400 in one night
Doing things I’d usually do for free
Drinking a few and dancing with every lonely guy I see

Maybe the job is bad and the money has me in denial
But for my first time being a Pink vest girl it was definitely worthwhile.

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My heart is sad
so melancholy,
once again my
foolish folly.
I know that 1
does not make 2,
I wish there was
a me and you.
A cuddle and
my lips to kiss,
oh well I guess
I won't be missed.