Sunday, 18 October 2015

Poem 12: Welfare


Slavery and drudgery
Hallmarks of conformity
Are not my forte
—witness my résumé—

As I put off the day
Welfare won't pay
A pariah of the press:
A 'scrounger' no less. 

Feed me to the mob
It's the same as a job
Undergoing the loss
Of working for a boss.

Dependant on income
For needs and fun
Most sell labour
For financial favour

Yoked by necessity:
The logic of money.
Would they prefer the option
Of those in my position

To embrace the torment
Of reliance on government
Whose stated public aim
Is to end their benefits claim?