High: 90°F ~ Low: 64°F
Monday, June 27, 2016
Labor Day BluesPosted Thursday, September 8, 2011, at 1:35 PM
This building represents our Nation, in dire need of repair; We need to re-find the American Way, or suffer in Despair.
By Arley Steinhour 090811
Once upon a time ago,
there was this place to live,
where people, even creatures,
surrendered all there was to give;
To have a part in being Free,
to work, and Praise their God,
Restrictions meted, almost none,
Those out of line, received the rod.
There seemed to be no borders,
The 'Welcome' sign always out,
Don't mess with unwritten standard
No hostile folk found about.
There was, of course, some differences,
but, most problems came to naught,
Tolerations ruled the day
Few problems need to be fought.
And then something began to happen,
Greed had settled in,
Bosses didn't treat their folk good,
Workers seen as sin;
Work was hard, pay was low,
no one had a place to go,
People kept on coming,
God looked down and cried about that below.
The workers banded together,
to have the strength to resist,
Pressure from the Businessmen
for workers to work and desist.
They called themselves a Union,
Coming together to save the day,
Simple things they wanted,
Agreement set, new way to play.
No longer does the working man
need suffer trial and loss,
Owner and worker, hand in hand,
So long as worker knew who was boss.
That seemed to have a Golden Ring,
Production and profit went through the roof,
Until the worker demanded too much a raise,
Cooperation got sick and died, like, Poof!
Adversaries, now they be
Both hating each the other
Even families were broken up,
Brother against his Brother.
Profit margin dwindled,
Business began to die,
Quality of product,
Bad, the only way not to lie.
Decades passed, until at last,
'Gap' between was way too far,
Rich stayed in their Ivory Tower,
Many of the Poor, lived at the bar.
Greed had never left the scene,
It disguised itself in Green,
Any who found the thievery,
Was made part of the Green Machine.
In the Year Two Thousand Eight
The Roof came crashing in,
Financial markets everywhere,
Birthed a Program worse than SIN;
Our Government threw MONEY
About, like Christmas Tinsel Tin,
Bailing out Big Business, not funny,
Feeding more of the Greed within.
What caused this Great Fiasco,
every body wants to know,
The Rich refusing to treat men right,
Or the worker demanding too much dough?
The problems are on-going,
There's little folks can do,
But watch the Blame Game being played
As our Grand-children we all do Screw.
I close my long, long, tirade
With a plea to God, on High,
Send please, Jesus our Messiah,
Without Sin, we still might learn to fly.
Showing most recent comments first
[Show in chronological order instead]
Respond to this blog
Posting a comment requires free registration:
Praise & Poetry
- Blog RSS feed
- Comments RSS feed
- Send email to Arley Steinhour