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in the corporation of me
its a dirty business
a black economy stalks corridors
bitter mistakes pound desks in rage
there’s a fire sale in Accounts

to be
or B2B
below the line
down here in the bull market baby
I can’t bear it
they try to beat me
they squeeze my margins
till I’m sure
this team of naked thoughts punching clocks
for transgressions of my past

I have no magic bullet
just a golden ratio of mind and meat
riddled with rotten
and collapsing hierarchies of need
two floors beneath
the drilling noises that sound like farts
are actually farts
while counter-blames storm
and meetings heap
occlusion in Apologies
for today’s hidden agenda

in the corporation of me
The Committee minutes a lifetime
the auditors close their laptops
tired of internal politics
now they’re dragging bodies from the deep freeze
stacking them in the warehouse
and we manage by exception

it seems the gloves are off

© Ben Clayton 2013


Today’s featured poem is from Ben Clayton. A topical piece, with the growing distrust of banks and business, and the perceived worsening state of our economy, Ben tells the story from the perspective of the type of people we see as the root of the problem. A morally devastating satirical piece which deals with the ego, selfishness and the thought processes of those that only have their own self-interest at heart. Ben does a deft job of peeling back the veneer of respectability and exposing the ugly, brutal face of business and our financial markets, where the “me first” thought process very much holds sway.

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