On another thread about poems, I penned this one out of pure frustration. What do you think? Poetry really isn't my thing, fiction is. Anyway, here it is: This thought is keeping me up at night Will I really spend the next 30 years in a cubicle? I spent my whole life dreaming of my office being a cockpit Crisscrossing the country. Visiting every one of the 50 states And vacationing for free in my free time I worked so hard to make it a reality And it might stay a dream. I could get a nice degree Make more money Less student loan debt But I'd be firmly planted on the ground. This all started 4 years ago When I tried to kill myself They put me on Prozac And now the FAA is holding me up Can't fly on SSRI's. Now I don't know if I can do what I love Am I sentenced to end up like my dad God forbid? Day in and day out Trudging off to some huge company In some big city Spending 9 hours a day in a 6-by-6 fabric cell With nothing more than a desk and a computer Suffer all day with ass-hat bosses People with IQ's in the negatives Who are only in charge because they have seniority. Then come home and bitch and moan Scream and yell and complain some more. Go to bed and get up early And do it all over again tomorrow. And the next day. And the next day. And the next day. And the next day. And the next day. Every damn day. Every single day. EVERY FUCKING DAY!!!! Play the lottery and pray To a god you don't believe in that someday soon You'll win an early retirement And you can tell off those buffoons. People told me "You can be a private pilot" "And have the best of both worlds." Not when you can't get a medical. Because if I could, I wouldn't be in this predicament. So I'm faced with the reality Of following in my father's footsteps Staring at a screen all day For the next 30 years. My dad wanted to be an archaeologist And ended up working with semi-truck ABS systems Is this what it's all about? Is the whole point of a career, Waiting and hoping for the day you can say "I Quit?" Having bosses crawling up your ass Turning your hair gray And living in a bedroom town? Is it about dreaming of the promised land Known as retirement? A 30-year prison sentence To be served in a big office building? The guards wearing suits and ties And working 80 hour weeks? And for what? Just a paycheck? Isn't there more to life than having toys? I just want to enjoy myself. That's why I wanted to fly. Do something I love and get paid for it Come home to my loving husband Life is good. But now I might end up suffering Selling my soul at some corporation. I want to cry at the thought But I still have a chance To make it happen It's not over yet.
I like it. Its very good. And I worry about the same frequently, as well I think I write better when I'm frustrated, but its hard to tell because I write so intermittenly. I find a day, write all day and night, then can't seem to do it for a few weeks.
Hey! It's good because it's sincere. And it is the best kind of poetry, when there are fragments of your real life behind it... And you know what? Your profession notwithstanding, you can always choose to be the kind of person you can admire and respect. Not a fan of office life myself, and I've tried, but it wasn't like there was nothing but a paycheck in it=)
Your first post was to reply to me. Welcome to EC. Thanks for your input, and I'm still working towards getting my medical. By the way, you might want to post an intro thread so people can get to know you.