Showing posts with label food industry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label food industry. Show all posts

Sunday, January 4, 2009

Scapegoat I

This is something I wrote years ago about someone I used to work with in a restaraunt long, long ago and far, far away. Last night I dreamed I was back at that job. It's strange I always dream about the jobs I hated and not the ones I loved. I still haven't figured out why.

Scapegoat I

Now I'll be your scapegoat,
And I'll take the blame for it,
But when it all comes down to it,
You know we all see through it.
Your big empty promise to the ruling man.

You put a price tag on my trust,
And you sold it out at the very first.
And now I KNOW you'd fuck me and everyone else
Just to save yourself.

You'll never earn the respect
For which you strive.
Your soul's been killed.
We can see it in your eyes.
The only way you think
Is in dollar signs.
You'll sell your own salvation
Right out from under you.

The captain rat
Of the sinking ship.
The water's rising.
You don't know what to do.
Climb across the heads
Of your drowning crew.
Make for the empty promise
Of a non-existent island.

Hope never existed.
It was just a calculated lie.
Given to the frightened girl
Who was too tired to discern truth from lie.
Too weary to fight or think
Only to nod and march in place.
Being a place holder for a write-off
Is not such a bad thing.
People learn to enjoy being burned
Everyday.

Whether it's masochism or stupidity
The end is all the same.
The pointless fight within the broken dream.
Beating the dead horse
In order to break the stick.
Bloody fists
Hammering an unbreakable wall of razors.
Edged yet pointless
Just like you.
The liar.
The hypocrite.
The abandoned.
The inept.
Generally flaccid
Is all you can Manage.
That's why you're my favorite General Manager!!!

Sunday, December 14, 2008

Dreary And Dutiful

Hopeless workers
Dutiful and bleak.
Caged within the maze
Of stainless steel countertops
And tile floors pristinely deck-brushed.

Feeding the machine
That has no discernable head.
Only a boardroom of hungry shareholders
And insistent e-mailers.

Corporate catch-phrases
And unnecessary exclamation points
Pound into our heads
At every wrong turn.

From top to bottom
They slave the game,
Where there are no winners,
Only eventual losers and sub-par performers.

Oh come to me ye’ stomach ulcers,
Heart palpitations, and tooth clenching promises of hope that haunt in the night.
Self-sodomizations for off-days
And family promises betrayed and unkept.

If ever there was a god of the food industry
It would be have to be Kali.
Ravaging and destroying in the most extreme,
Yet subtly promising in distinct instances.

Why do we walk this plank?
This empty promise of eventual self-demise.
Are we just crazy
Or the dreamers of an impossible dream?

Why have I fucked myself into this thorny corner?
Why have I put a price tag on my life’s time?
Why do any of us keep coming back for more?
How can there be hope when the guests are all insane?

It’s all questions now.
I’m just digging for the magikal answer.