hauling scrap metal,
junk...
old washers, dryers,
old beat up cars,
rusted down high octane
roads going nowhere.....
metallic flowers,
dying and dead,
never to bloom again...
hauling junk...
trading metal for milk,
bread, and potatoes...
in the land where no one works!
I really think the title is very inviting to read. But so true, how severe would be the consequences if no one would work The poem makes us realise how blessed work is. Very good poem Eric.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
In England lack of work is getting that bad More and more people are getting into scrap metal, just to make a bit of a living. The fat cats are still getting fatter. A great poem.