City Of Firsts: January,2013 Poem by Michael Shutt

City Of Firsts: January,2013



January 28,2013

Fog creeps into
The City of Firsts,
'Cross sleeping fields
That sometimes thwart
Agrarian Hope.

And chokes out all that
Factory Smoke,
While those who till the soil
Succumb to Fog's
Sweet Dreams.

While Laborers sweat
On assembly lines,
Laboring
Three Times
and More
than their Grandparents did,
with not much gain
but stubborn Hoosier Pride.

And Minimum Wagers
Sweat in 21st Century
Hash Houses,
Feeding those who in this
City Of Firsts
Toil for Detroit,
On Machenized Assembly Lines
and punch a time clock-

And think that they
By virtue of the internet
Are equal to the bosses up
In Motor City.

Wake Up.

Your brothers of the land
Know better.

You Unioned Laborers
Can be erased
By the Corporate Class
That still dictates that
You'd better never
Ask too much-

Else the Money Men
Will crush you under
Wingtipped loafers
Made in China.

And by the way,
Ole Farmer Fred:

Just sleep those dreams
Of better harvest.

Sleep those dreams
'Neath Winter's Mantle.

Just get too pushy

Just want too much,

Like your Union Brothers,
We'll be in touch.

You'd better pack
A Farm Grown Lunch.

Oh my, what a rotten
Road to hoe,
We'll get our lunch
From Mexico.

And Unions,

We're so comfortable,
We dont care if your
Kids are starving.
The Money Boys
Need not explain.
We'll close you Factories
Down We Will.
We'll build our profits
In Beijing!

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