To Work - Poem by George Dudley
Back and forth, to and fro,
painted metal, wheeled to go.
Safely strapped in plastic sound,
inch-by-inch consuming ground.
Shiny products on a course
to concrete hill and grey concourse.
Built for speed but tortoise paced,
Selling life to pay the rent,
we ponder not on what is meant.
Where and when and how and why
did our freedom we deny?
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Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You