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Will Anyone Know My Name?
by J. P. DaviesHazy visions of truth and justice,
lost in a confluence of smog filled air.
The air we breathe is a poison.
Each breath brings us closer to rest.
The world has become our whipping boy;
a slave to our fires that burn undying.
We surround ourselves with possessions,
which make us feel happy for a time.
One slice of joy is just a price-tag away.
A brandname is a quick-fix solution to our deep seated misery.
Our fathers and grandfathers broke their backs
and worked their fingers to the bone,
While we complain of carpel-tunnel.
I guess punching these keys is just too arduous
We have been slotted into cubicles and work-stations.
Worker bees left to watch our queen devour food
while we sit and live, just barely, paycheck to paycheck.
I want to live where the air is pure.
I need to find a place where I can live.
Where I can write in peace.
I need to be where things matter
Where my identity is not defined by a series of numbers
social insurance number
*check*
care card number
*check*
personal education number
*check*
employee number
*check*
bank account number
*check*
student number
*check*
what about the numbers that count?
Like 4th generation Canadian?
Or second born child?
What if all I become is just a statistic?
In the end after all is over,
will anyone know my name?
11/19/2003 Posted on 11/19/2003
Copyright © 2024 J. P. Davies
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Trisha De Gracia on 11/20/03 at 12:19 AM Personally, this is I think one of the best ones you've written, because it hits home, and I can really identify with your theme. Brilliant job. |
| Posted by Don Coffman on 11/20/03 at 06:45 PM There's so much that can be said about this, aside from the well deserved basics of the nifty writing and flow. In the end, I think the most important issue is that it inspires appreciation for being known by name and in person by friends and beloved. We really are just numbers and statistics otherwise. Wonderful job on this, it gives a lot to think about. |
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