Some poems I have written about being in and out of work.  I feel they are relevant to these troubled times and I can imagine a lot of people can relate to them.  Hope you like 'em.

I Need to Work
 
I need to work, to give my soul
Employment, find a useful role
That pays me money, pays the rent
And covers all my bills, I've spent
A fortune living on the dole
 
It's not enough, I don't feel whole
This London life can take it's toll
I'll soon be living in a tent
If I've no cash to pay my rent
I need to work
 
I'll sell my body, sell my soul
If I'm to find my working role
My dole queue money is all spent
It can no longer pay my rent
I need to work
 
Finding a Job
 
To find a job I'll need to search around
And see the vacancies there are to spare
There's not that many jobs that can be found
And I for one am lost not knowing where
 
To look for good employers who will care
Enough to listen when I'm forced to hound
Them all and this is why I'm going spare
To find a job I'll need to search around
 
I know some applications will rebound
But I will search the local papers where
Whilst travelling on the bus or underground
I'll see the vacancies there are to spare
 
Unfortunately life's not always fair
Recession and reality confound
My efforts and to my utmost despair
There's not that many jobs that can be found
 
To fit my skills yet I feel somewhat bound
To keep on going but it's hard to care
I'm in a circle going round and round
And I for one am lost not knowing where
To find a job
 
Interview
 
This interview is going badly
Don't think I'm going to get the job
He sees I'm just a lazy slob
The interviewer's name is Bradley
He takes my hand and shakes it gladly
Inside my blood begins to throb
This interview is going badly
Don't think I'm going to get the job
My mind is racing, rushing madly
As questions Bradley starts to lob
I feel my chances withering sadly
This interview is going badly
Don't think I'm going to get the job.
 
Now some on working...
 
The Customers Complain
 
The customers complain "You're shit!"
When we are unprepared things quickly go
Insane
That's when, their tempers rising angrily
The customers complain
 
Whenever it gets busy, it's a strain
So many people needing serviced,
See,
A thousand orders streaming through your brain.
 
Appeasing everybody desperately,
We're crippled with embarrassment and pain
When we screw up and then, oh blessed be,
The customers complain!
 
The Flyering was Meaningless
 
The flyering was meaningless
The people didn't want to know
To sell this stuff was too much stress
The flyering was meaningless
With all the people saying no
And telling me just where to go
The flyering was meaningless
The people didin't want to know
 
On the Phone
 
On the phone dialling random numbers
Trying not to fall asleep
And all I'm saying merely scripted
My voice a bored mechanic drone
"Why can't you just send in an email?"
Is all I'm hearing on the phone
 
And all I'm saying merely scripted
My voice a bored mechanic drone.
"Let's make some deals, make lots of money!"
Is all I'm hearing from my boss.
"Why can't you just send in an email?"
Is all I'm hearing on the phone
 
"Let's make some deals, make lots of money!"
Is all I'm hearing from my boss
"Your call-time's shit! You're far too lazy!"
He keeps breathing in my ear.
"Why can't you just send in an email?"
Is all I'm hearing on the phone
 
Meandering
 
Meandering
I work my way
From day to day
Meandering
Towards oblivion
A thing I'm most afraid of
Yet I stay in work
And make my way
Meandering
 
You're Fired
 
And now I leave this dreadful place
Remembering when I was hired
The tears are streaming down my face
"You're finished here, that's it, you're fired."
 
I hate the office, it just bores
The life from me and now I'm tired.
I make my way towards the doors
"You're finished here, that's it, you're fired."
 
I leave the building feeling old
It's almost like I am retired
Remembering when I was told
"You're finished here, that's it, you're fired."

All poetry written here by Alain English