19/09/2020 - Poem a Day Compilation
You cannot fire me
I have too much dignity
And I quit this job.
Out of the quarrel with others we make rhetoric; out of the quarrel with ourselves we make poetry. (W.B. Yeats) Here lies that which is inside no more, that which burns my mind and must be expelled. Here lies the greatest of all inventions. Here lies words.
Showing posts with label unemployment. Show all posts
Showing posts with label unemployment. Show all posts
Friday, September 18, 2020
Wednesday, August 19, 2020
Unemployed
07/08/2020 - Poem a Day Compilation
I am not unemployed.
I am unemployable.
There is no real reason.
It’s just what I’m told.
I have the qualifications.
I have done the all the hours.
I’d just like to be given a chance
Like everybody else.
I’m not overly political,
I don’t bring my views to work.
I don’t like to get into arguments
Or cause any tension.
I quite like sports and theatre,
I can happily talk about both,
And I’m not pushy with my opinion
Even when heavily pressed.
I can work from home or an office,
With others or on my own,
I sound, on paper, like perfection
Until I walk in the door.
They never come out and say it,
But how I look frightens them off.
They don’t need to tell me directly,
I can tell before they open their mouth.
I won’t apologise for who I am,
I can’t change the way I appear,
And if you won’t see past the superficial
I don’t want to work for you there.
But I would like to be given an opportunity
To show that I’m capable, at least.
That how I look doesn’t affect my work,
Only your perception of me.
I am not unemployed.
I am unemployable.
There is no real reason.
It’s just what I’m told.
I have the qualifications.
I have done the all the hours.
I’d just like to be given a chance
Like everybody else.
I’m not overly political,
I don’t bring my views to work.
I don’t like to get into arguments
Or cause any tension.
I quite like sports and theatre,
I can happily talk about both,
And I’m not pushy with my opinion
Even when heavily pressed.
I can work from home or an office,
With others or on my own,
I sound, on paper, like perfection
Until I walk in the door.
They never come out and say it,
But how I look frightens them off.
They don’t need to tell me directly,
I can tell before they open their mouth.
I won’t apologise for who I am,
I can’t change the way I appear,
And if you won’t see past the superficial
I don’t want to work for you there.
But I would like to be given an opportunity
To show that I’m capable, at least.
That how I look doesn’t affect my work,
Only your perception of me.
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