Monthly Archives: April 2024

Towards a Working Class Bible

Nature promised man little.

Many working poor rage against God for their place.

The water is too deep, so we drift through life.

A little more wind for the sails might help.

But does it send you more toward Heaven or Hell?

Workers’ scarred bodies and stained souls

are of the class of the risen carpenter savior.

Does such a struggling life put one in God’s favor?

If not, it is a cruel joke on God’s part.

Must one work so hard for salvation?

What was their sin and was it so horrible?

These workers have earned and are justified

in an answer from God right now.

Do angels understand soot and dirt under fingernails?

God has graced the wealthy with heavenly neighborhoods,

where another order of beings can look down on the poor.

Gates on an Earth world separating thine and mine.

It looks like money has spoken worldwide.

What have religions done for the working class?

Churches built by the wealthy

try to quell the unrest of the working class.

Quell their chance for worker solidarity,

on the worker’s one day of rest in a week.

It could be a day to organize and enlighten their

degraded souls to rise and worship at the altar of solidarity.

Raising up those who work side by side together.

The preachers promise the downtrodden a better hereafter.

Suffering now earns a payday later.

Pie in the sky BS indeed.

Why a sunbeam might appear and change everything.

They say God works in mysterious ways.

I don’t care for mysteries or science fiction.

I’m wondering if religious text isn’t just a fable.

No one has a signed copy of the Bible.

It was written in a room with monks

distracted by drinking lots of wine.

It did warn us not to accept apples from women

and not to trust our brother as he might kill us.

To memorialize Abraham’s faith,

his son was named,” Isaac,” meaning “laughter.”

The Bible like all holy books

needs more “Isaac” and joy.

That might make it more palatable.

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Three Working-Class Poems

Longing for Power

It’s to work, to home, to work, to home, to work to death.

Sunshine deficient, happy deficient, and smile deficient.

They die with a brain full of unanswered power.

Their lives asked for power.

Their deaths asked for power.

The workers struggle still.

The love of hope is a stimulant.

Man cannot live on hope.

Machines govern the bodies

but not the minds of workers.

They work a double with stupid sleepiness.

No one tells the story of their soul.

Souls filled with the longing for love.

No one tells of their heroic unselfishness,

for family, friends, and fellow workers.

They represent heart kindness and hopeless discomfort.

Maintaining Sanity

.08 means you are legally drunk.

It would take ten times that amount

to wash away the workday hardships.

It’s not enough to drown their intolerable solitude.

Desperate drinking can become a mental band-aid.

A working-class bar features the drunken

chorus of men fresh from hellfire.

Nourishing their battered souls.

and the thankless coarseness of their life

These spirits give them more comfort,

than the rich man’s minister on Sunday.

The Workplaces and Prisons Where Art Hides

Many workers in factories and inmates in prison

have a passion for art, words, and beauty.

Happy are those whose agony in their brains

is put in touch with their fingers,

to express themselves in some form of art.

They scream out as babies cry for food or help.

They scream as they are living death and soul starvation.

They need to put pen to paper or paint to canvas,

to expose their purpose, passion, and pain.

Many beautiful unknown and unspoken

things are lost in the passing of each soul to eternity.

We should have art galleries in factories and prisons.

We should have wakes for the living.

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