Corporate Sales Machine Poem by Karl Newton

Corporate sales machine
A productive, destructive routine

Money, money, money
It makes the world go round
A job destroying many a man
Yet all the company cares for
Is money
Stacking up by the pound

No regard
For the health of the staff
Sales mean more
Staff come and go
Through a revolving door

Sales and energy dropped?
Go grab a line or a shot
Come back refreshed
And smash it
Earn the cash
Then go and splash it
In clubs full of strippers
All night trippers

Sale, Sale, Sale
Cash, Cash, Cash
Until
Eventually
You crash
Replace you in a flash