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Oct 22, 2022
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This poem is part of the contest:
Neopoem Of The Week October 16th to October 22 2022
Indoctrination
Surely, they allow five minutes’ grace.
No, No Grace.
Adherence, Not dignity.
What will become of me?
If you can work, you’ll survive.
Winners, Not losers.
Will we survive?
Maybe, I don’t know.
Survivors, Not Thinkers.
When can we rest?
Never, No peace.
Workers, Not Malingerers.
When will we be free?
Never, We're free to work
Serfdom, Not Liberty.
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About This Poem
Style/Type: Free verse
Review Request Direction:
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
How does this theme appeal to you?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?
Is the internal logic consistent?
Review Request Intensity: I appreciate moderate constructive criticism
Editing Stage: Editing - rough draft
Comments
Rosewood Apothecary
2 years 9 months ago
Hello and Welcome
Your style is a bit like Bukowski. I’ve never more than driven through Waterbury but as a lifelong New Englander I know the feel of a now defunct industrial town. I did grow up in Slatersville, where John Slater built the second textile Ave mill in the country. We all learn about his brother Samuel Slater and his mill over in Pawtucket.
Get out there. Look at those old buildings. Built for purpose. Aye serfdom. But the work. Imagine what was produced. The pride in the mason who laid the last brick to wet mortar. I agree we are in pretty bad shape but I won’t also become a slave to my negative thoughts.
I love the poem and I look forward to reading more,
Tim
Rosewood Apothecary
2 years 9 months ago
Hello and Welcome
Your style is a bit like Bukowski. I’ve never more than driven through Waterbury but as a lifelong New Englander I know the feel of a now defunct industrial town. I did grow up in Slatersville, where John Slater built the second textile Ave mill in the country. We all learn about his brother Samuel Slater and his mill over in Pawtucket.
Get out there. Look at those old buildings. Built for purpose. Aye serfdom. But the work. Imagine what was produced. The pride in the mason who laid the last brick to wet mortar. I agree we are in pretty bad shape but I won’t also become a slave to my negative thoughts.
I love the poem and I look forward to reading more,
Tim