Destiny Poem by (TPAC) Alexander Coppedge


Our day starts rising of the dawn, preparation we do for, having a notion to clock into at a job, planned hours working for a ration, at a workstation, hard at efforts: a service to our nations.

Many people join In small groups, being a slave under a brat's owner, peers by a cat's eye at a rat's tail, not like us: trim figures' bodies, striking sun's heat bone to dry their bat's skin.

Our time each day spent to fill labor burdens, is many hours, sway each action that measured factors, a may at job, risen dawn is bright: it is today, higher hits banging all of us this hot sun.

These souls make an enormous effort to build a structure, stride that's side danger given for more money, tried labors it to cope a ride at a force, pushes to slide it just a little bit moving item.

Long dusty trip, it's upon dry land, in gasps it's got in temperament, places a hand, curls grip a load; and in this dust shoving granite, pitted in sand band: pity I destinies the beings there.

All hearts facing the labor-sold arts had hard event occurrence, twirled as darts, sightless aims at tasks, confronting each owner's laws; replaceable all held value used parts said final tallies.

We all do recall working to fit a large mount in placement, directing high a not ball, it's a boulder fact a team actions, lifting a huge gigantic rock it up: its balance to equal a flat wall.

All acts at a heavy block endeavors, crossing a landscape to dock fit in a pit by power, higher to lock stones a height, it one up level its ruler; being paid to set this rock on a pyramid.

The Holy Text, us knowing about its whole, becoming aware of the actions the worker only a child stated is allowed in heaven entrances, ponder this to serve God: then a job.
(TPAC)  Alexander Coppedge

(TPAC) Alexander Coppedge

Warrenton, North Carolina
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