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New Poetry |  |
by Joe Hall
- There is a place...
- It may sound like a fairytale
- But alas, it is true.
- There is a factory where all clouds are made,
- But that's not what they tell me and you.
- Everyone thinks it's a steel mill,
- But the truth is that they lied.
- Metal is only a byproduct of what they steal.
- I know- I've been inside.
- It's a horrible place owned by horrible people.
- Inside it is cold and grey.
- There are many workers there too...
- Unwittingly lured there by good pay.
- You see the plan is sneaky,
- Once they get the people in
- They all have their hopes and dreams
- And that's where it all begins.
- The workers, while they toil
- Think about what they wish for.
- Their dreams fill the air,
- But greed makes them want more.
- The mill's machines gather the dreams
- Sucking them right out of the air,
- Then they are burned in a furnace.
- I know it hardly seems fair.
- They take the hopes of a lifetime
- From over a thousand men,
- A little bit more each day...
- Each day the men return again.
- These dreams have all been stolen,
- So part of what they make is steel.
- That's how they got the name,
- I know it hardly seems real.
- The other things they make are clouds
- From the furnaces which they stoke.
- The dreams of all those poor men
- All gone up in smoke.
- When the men are all used up
- Then they realize the cost.
- For a few dollars they squandered their lives.
- Now they weep for the time they lost.
- So enjoy each day as it comes
- And always live happy and proud.
- Do what your heart instructs
- Lest you also end up a cloud.
