Stock Room Blues

I've yet to do what I really wish
I've come home smelling like a fish
Scraping off windows covered with grime
Hardly makes my Summertime sublime
I don't live to work I work to live
More at night when girls are amative

Been patiently waiting for a raise
You can't cool my heels with more delays
I've felt the pain of the stockroom blues
Quit jobs with nothing left to lose
Always hoping to find something more
I'm no further than I was before

Maybe if you'd paid me what I'm worth
I'd have busted my ass for you
Observe from the peon's point of view
Incentives produce much less dearth
Or can't you see down around your girth
To see all of the people that you screw

I won't take another job from you
Unless you offered me a blow job
You'd probably do it too you slob
And you'd have to double up my pay
Yo bitch, you won't ever hear me say
"HOW MAY I KISS YOUR ASS TODAY?"

I will no longer be your pawn
A bossed around low-life peon
So I'll offer the songs I've written
So far performed only by my pen
Add to the words the pulse of my soul
Let them go wherever they may roll

At least then I can smile at the crooks
As I sleep with the publishers of poetry books
Who steal the words of creative artistry
With dull pages of contractual thievery
To accept the most thankless job of all
A poet never reads the writing on the wall


*06/30/1987