Manual Labour Poem by Adam Sliwa

Paid by the hour
working for the day.

Save another penny
save another dime..

We get paid in paper
but we produce with the
flesh.

Manual labour
means the more we earn
the shorter we live.
The harder we work
the more my back is aching.
All we’re thinking is: please body
make it until we are sixty-five.

They say no pain no gain.
But not everybody have to
sweat everyday, work in
unsafe conditions make
ridiculous hours and then thank
for it,

We are crude against each other
but honest and with love. The
unnecessary words are not uttered here.
Small little phrases that do not add nothing.

Let others do small talk,
in coffee shops, restaurants
and ”meetings” let others do 900 updates.

We are busy working.
We are busy working,
We are busy making other people wealthy.
We are fulfiling other peoples dreams.
Being missed by families and friends
missing our bed and a long kiss in the morning,

We are not out living it up 5 in the morning, we are just
dirty, tired, waiting for that night bus never to come.

Put yourself in the corner,
become invisible,
stay off trouble,
pray just to make it just to the door one more time.

We don´t question why they are up and we are down.
Like the casteless we stoically accept the things the way they are,.
Because we live for the hour hoping for the day.