Citatepedia^®.com

Because he has so many trades, he is unemployed.

Tunisian proverbs
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

To Fiddle With A Nothing To Do To Get Done

Early in my life,
I became inquisitive about it.
And I am glad it has not stopped.
With a developing of many interests.

So happy am I,
My curiosities I have not dropped.
Some who have retired,
Seem to have done it from living life.

Only to have one interest...
As a routine until that ends.
And with nothing else in which to depend...
Can be,
And is...
A boring existence.

And to become bored with a life that still exists,
I can not imagine it.

Constantly there are changes made.
And those who once believed a stability meant,
Doing one thing that defined a normalcy...
May find themselves and that normalcy,
As outdated as one accepting...
A stability one perceived would stay forever.
And a forever,
Is just not meant to be.

And those once called a jack of all trades,
But a master of none.
Have found themselves amongst those,
Not the ones at home alone,
Twiddling their thumbs.
To fiddle with a nothing to do to get done.

This is not a problem for a jack of all trades.
To twiddle their thumbs with a nothing that's done.
This is not a problem for a jack of all trades.
To twiddle their thumbs with a nothing that's done.
This is not a problem for a jack of all trades.
To twiddle their thumbs with a nothing that's done.
A jack of all trades has a life that's saved.
And something everyday there is an interest made.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Job Networks and Enlightenment Rooms

The unemployed proletariat had just finished with the Centrelink’s rigmarole,
Of paper forms, and signing his name, and all the stuff the unemployed got to do.
Running around doing the paper chase, which is a part of the dole regime.
Next, it was the Job Networks, the employment organization now privatised.
A new dole treadmill for the unemployed, encouraging an attitude highly industrialized.

“Welcome to Job Network” the t.v. monitor said, on a recorded video machine.
“We are a privatized organization for the purpose of getting you into employment.
We are here to help you to find your talents, and potentials, to improve your
Abilities, so that you can re-enter the work force to have a life of independents.
This is far better than being on welfare forever with your dependants”.

The interviewers in the Job Network office were old grannies,
Complete with false colorings and artificial additives.
“I’m your case manager, I’m assigned to you, and you are here to sign a contract.
The Job Search And Activities Plan and responsibilities and employment to find.
To ensure you’re meeting your obligations to society not to be in your dole grind”.

The granny said.”Under governmental policies your association with us is for all life.”
Granny continued.“There will be no talk-back, yak-back, smart-back nor fart-back.
If we find you to be deficient in abilities, then you have to do a course of some sort.”
The proletariat looked a bit stunned said. “At my age, late forties, it's a bit late.”
Granny said. “It’s never too late to train.” she did not like his mind’s negative state.

The proletariat said to the false colored granny with artificial additives.
“I got a really bum hip, and with it I can't do much, and it seems I can't have a pension.
I’m not 97 per cent dead, nor can I work in a factory any more, it’s quite hopeless.”
Continuing. “I’m 49, over the hill and even at 40 no one is going to hire me any more”.
Granny said. “There’s anti-age-discrimination laws that help’s you in life furthermore.”

The proletariat bemused said. “Funny, I never heard. Daadaa-daatatitit-dududdaada-daaa”
THIS IS THE CHANNEL NINE NEWS, THE MOTORING ORGANIZATION
DISCRIMINATED AGAINST THIS MIDDLE AGED BLOKE FOR A CLERICAL
JOB AND THE ANTI-DISCRIMINATION BOARD IS TAKING ACTION.
FURTHERMORE ITS INTOLERABLE THE UNEMPLOYED CANT HAVE TRACTION.

This made grandma very angry, and she looked at the proletariat with contempt.
And said that the proletariat didn't want to work and had a severe attitude problem.
Grandma said it was about time to do a attitude course against negative attitudes.
It was being held in the same building in the “Enlightenment Room” for all dolies.
Grandma said it’s about time that the proletariats guard against their follies.

“Follies? ? I don’t think I have attitudes nor follies” The proletariat said, and continued.
“I lost my job due to imports from India, how can I possibly find work if Australia
Imports everything in untold billions of dollars worth of imported goods.
Further more, Australia has call centres and “IT” jobs in India, sucking all jobs out
Of Australia, so how could I possibly find work, faaarout.

Grandma was starting to become impatient with this proletariat smart arse.
“We have anti-discrimination laws against what you’re saying.”

[...] Read more

poem by Jerry Behr Number 2
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Radio

He's chosen my attic
I feel it in the static
He lives in my basement
And I can hardly face it
My performance is easy
I am the god of romance
And in my confusion
I have the right to reign
He's stolen my Oscars
He trades on my jokes
He makes all my engines go oh oh oh
He put an "e" in the arsenal
A comb in my 'fro
Devine retribution
And away we will go
Hey hey hey hey
Something's happening I can feel it
Moving out of time you'll hear it
Falling in the way you fear it
Jumping thumping shout out something
Jumping thumping shout out something
Listen to the radio
And you will hear the songs you know
Make it effervescent here
And you might have a job my dear
I'm searching for something
Beyond my understanding
Looking for meaning
Where nothing is demanding
There are no surprises
Where nothing is expected
If you offer nothing
Then everyone accepts
He's stolen my Oscars
He trades on my jokes
He makes all my engines go oh oh oh
He put an "e" in the arsenal
A comb in my 'fro
Devine retribution
And away we will go
Hey hey hey hey
Something's happening I can feel it
Moving out of time you'll hear it
Falling in the way you fear it
Jumping thumping shout out something
Jumping thumping shout out something
Listen to the radio
And you will hear the songs you know
Make it effervescent here
And you might have a job my dear

[...] Read more

song performed by Robbie Williams
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

A Castaway

Poor little diary, with its simple thoughts,
its good resolves, its "Studied French an hour,"
"Read Modern History," "Trimmed up my grey hat,"
"Darned stockings," "Tatted," "Practised my new song,"
"Went to the daily service," "Took Bess soup,"
"Went out to tea." Poor simple diary!
and did I write it? Was I this good girl,
this budding colourless young rose of home?
did I so live content in such a life,
seeing no larger scope, nor asking it,
than this small constant round -- old clothes to mend,
new clothes to make, then go and say my prayers,
or carry soup, or take a little walk
and pick the ragged-robins in the hedge?
Then for ambition, (was there ever life
that could forego that?) to improve my mind
and know French better and sing harder songs;
for gaiety, to go, in my best white
well washed and starched and freshened with new bows,
and take tea out to meet the clergyman.
No wishes and no cares, almost no hopes,
only the young girl's hazed and golden dreams
that veil the Future from her.

So long since:
and now it seems a jest to talk of me
as if I could be one with her, of me
who am ...... me.

And what is that? My looking-glass
answers it passably; a woman sure,
no fiend, no slimy thing out of the pools,
a woman with a ripe and smiling lip
that has no venom in its touch I think,
with a white brow on which there is no brand;
a woman none dare call not beautiful,
not womanly in every woman's grace.

Aye let me feed upon my beauty thus,
be glad in it like painters when they see
at last the face they dreamed but could not find
look from their canvass on them, triumph in it,
the dearest thing I have. Why, 'tis my all,
let me make much of it: is it not this,
this beauty, my own curse at once and tool
to snare men's souls -- (I know what the good say
of beauty in such creatures) -- is it not this
that makes me feel myself a woman still,
some little pride, some little --

[...] Read more

poem by Augusta Davies Webster
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Out Of Work

8 a.m. Im up and my feet beating on the sidewalk
Down at the unemployment agency, all I get is talk
I check the want ads but there just aint nobody hiring
Whats a man supposed to do when hes down and hes
Out of work
I need a job, Im out of work
Im unemployed, Im out of work
I need a job, Im out of work
I go to pick my girl up
Her name is linda brown
Her dad invites me in
He tells me to sit down
The small talk that were making
Is going pretty smooth
But then he drops a bomb
Son, what dya do ?
Im out of work
I need a job, Im out of work
Im unemployed, Im out of work
I need a job, Im out of work
Hey mr president I know you got your plans
Youre doing all you can now to aid the little man
We got to do our best to whip that inflation down
Maybe you got a job for me just driving you around
Im out of work
These hard times, theyre enough
To make a man lose his mind
Im out of work
Up there you got a job but down here below
Im out of work
I need a job, Im out of work
Im unemployed, Im out of work
I need a job, Im out of work
Im out of work
Im out of work
Im out of work
Im out of work
Im out of work
Im out of work
Im out of work

song performed by Bruce Springsteen
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

A Drop

When unemployed,
Why the desires are desired more?
Why the more worries are worried?
Why the needs are increased?
Why the inability is enabled?
Why the confidence Is disabled?
More than ever as a rat,
Yet to be caught,
In the trap of illusion,
Of others ignoring us,
Not being respected.

Millions of us,
May be unemployed,
With little savings,
With Monthly mortgages,
A few mouths to feed,
A strong heart to hold and cherish,
not to let this little boat to drift away,
Believe me, we are the survivors,
This obstacle will be removed,
As the morning dew,
Disappear in front of sun.
Until the day comes,
Let us lead a simple life.

Then we save enough,
To live a comfortable life.
In another crisis,
help those,
who are unemployed,
to get over the difficult,
period of their life.
until then, explore the gardens,
in our cities,
where the fresh air is free,
to oxygenate.

poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

I hate unemployment

I hate to be unemployed.
I used to think that I am a smart graduate.
I entered into University with a lot of hard works,
and I wish to become a success career lady one day.

I worked for 15 years plus,
but I am not a successful office lady.
Due to office politics,
I quit my job due to angers and hatred.

Actually I start to regret,
because I have been unemployed for 2 years and 3 weeks.

I wish to go back to work.
I wish to receive my monthly salary by every month end.
If I have salary on hand,
by month end I will go to shopping.
I will go for a facial treatment at least twice a month.
I may join gym and learn yoga everyday after work.
I may join slimming course.

But now I am unemployed.
I have spent mostly all my savings.
I applied more than 500 jobs in these 2 years.
God know what had happened towards me!

My name is ruined.
My reputation is gone.
I have no professionalism and integrity in the public
because my name is greatly ruined.

I cried.
I cry.
I was depressed.
I am depressed.
I am undergoing depression treatments.

Who care me?
Instead who care me!

I cry. I cry and I cry...

poem by Grace Chen
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Hence, within the space of two generations there has been a complete revolution in the attitude of the trades-unions toward the women working in their trades.

quote by Florence Kelley
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

In the garment trades, on the other hand, the presence of a body of the disfranchised, of the weak and young, undoubtedly contributes to the economic weakness of these trades.

quote by Florence Kelley
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Crucial

Baby, uve got 2 be from a different world
Cuz just one look from u could make an army surrender
Baby, uve got 2 rescue me girl, girl
A prisoner in love with the opposite gender
I aint sayin ure better, baby, but I aint sayin ure not
I aint sayin anything until u stop
Never forget that cuz baby, Ill be your jack of all trades
A mind and body well made
Crucial - baby, our love has got 2 be
Crucial - everything from a 2 z
Crucial - uve got 2 show me everything, everything, everything
Is that old man river knockin at your door
Sayin that we got 2 let more than our feelings show?
Baby, 2night dont hold nothin back, I know uve got some more
Ill give u mine if u give me yours
I aint sayin ure better, baby, I aint sayin ure not
I aint sayin anything until u stop
Baby, dont hold me back cuz baby, i.. baby I need a jack 4 all trades
A mind and body well made
Crucial - our love has got 2 be
Crucial - every little thing from a 2 z
Crucial - uve got 2 show me everything, everything, everything

song performed by Prince
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Trivia ; or, the Art of Walking the Streets of London : Book II.

Of Walking the Streets by Day.

Thus far the Muse has trac'd in useful lays
The proper implements for wintry ways;
Has taught the walker, with judicious eyes,
To read the various warnings of the skies.
Now venture, Muse, from home to range the town,
And for the public safety risk thy own.
For ease and for dispatch, the morning's best;
No tides of passengers the street molest.
You'll see a draggled damsel, here and there,
From Billingsgate her fishy traffic bear;
On doors the sallow milk-maid chalks her gains;
Ah! how unlike the milk-maid of the plains!
Before proud gates attending asses bray,
Or arrogate with solemn pace the way;
These grave physicians with their milky cheer,
The love-sick maid and dwindling beau repair;
Here rows of drummers stand in martial file,
And with their vellum thunder shake the pile,
To greet the new-made bride. Are sounds like these
The proper prelude to a state of peace?
Now industry awakes her busy sons,
Full charg'd with news the breathless hawker runs:
Shops open, coaches roll, carts shake the ground,
And all the streets with passing cries resound.
If cloth'd in black, you tread the busy town
Or if distinguish'd by the rev'rend gown,
Three trades avoid; oft in the mingling press,
The barber's apron soils the sable dress;
Shun the perfumer's touch with cautious eye,
Nor let the baker's step advance too nigh;
Ye walkers too that youthful colours wear,
Three sullying trades avoid with equal care;
The little chimney-sweeper skulks along,
And marks with sooty stains the heedless throng;
When small-coal murmurs in the hoarser throat,
From smutty dangers guard thy threaten'd coat:
The dust-man's cart offends thy clothes and eyes,
When through the street a cloud of ashes flies;
But whether black or lighter dyes are worn,
The chandler's basket, on his shoulder borne,
With tallow spots thy coat; resign the way,
To shun the surly butcher's greasy tray,
Butcher's, whose hands are dy'd with blood's foul stain,
And always foremost in the hangman's train.
Let due civilities be strictly paid.
The wall surrender to the hooded maid;
Nor let thy sturdy elbow's hasty rage
Jostle the feeble steps of trembling age;

[...] Read more

poem by John Gay
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Trivia; or, the Art of Walking the Streets of London (excer

Thus far the Muse has trac'd in useful lays
The proper implements for wintry ways;
Has taught the walker, with judicious eyes,
To read the various warnings of the skies.
Now venture, Muse, from home to range the town,
And for the public safety risk thy own.

For ease and for dispatch, the morning's best;
No tides of passengers the street molest.
You'll see a draggled damsel, here and there,
From Billingsgate her fishy traffic bear;
On doors the sallow milk-maid chalks her gains;
Ah! how unlike the milk-maid of the plains!
Before proud gates attending asses bray,
Or arrogate with solemn pace the way;
These grave physicians with their milky cheer,
The love-sick maid and dwindling beau repair;
Here rows of drummers stand in martial file,
And with their vellum thunder shake the pile,
To greet the new-made bride. Are sounds like these
The proper prelude to a state of peace?
Now industry awakes her busy sons,
Full charg'd with news the breathless hawker runs:
Shops open, coaches roll, carts shake the ground,
And all the streets with passing cries resound.

If cloth'd in black, you tread the busy town
Or if distinguish'd by the rev'rend gown,
Three trades avoid; oft in the mingling press,
The barber's apron soils the sable dress;
Shun the perfumer's touch with cautious eye,
Nor let the baker's step advance too nigh;
Ye walkers too that youthful colours wear,
Three sullying trades avoid with equal care;
The little chimney-sweeper skulks along,
And marks with sooty stains the heedless throng;
When small-coal murmurs in the hoarser throat,
From smutty dangers guard thy threaten'd coat:
The dust-man's cart offends thy clothes and eyes,
When through the street a cloud of ashes flies;
But whether black or lighter dyes are worn,
The chandler's basket, on his shoulder borne,
With tallow spots thy coat; resign the way,
To shun the surly butcher's greasy tray,
Butcher's, whose hands are dy'd with blood's foul stain,
And always foremost in the hangman's train.

Let due civilities be strictly paid.
The wall surrender to the hooded maid;
Nor let thy sturdy elbow's hasty rage

[...] Read more

poem by John Gay
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Carol Of Occupations

COME closer to me;
Push close, my lovers, and take the best I possess;
Yield closer and closer, and give me the best you possess.

This is unfinish'd business with me--How is it with you?
(I was chill'd with the cold types, cylinder, wet paper between us.)

Male and Female!
I pass so poorly with paper and types, I must pass with the contact
of bodies and souls.

American masses!
I do not thank you for liking me as I am, and liking the touch of
me--I know that it is good for you to do so.

This is the carol of occupations; 10
In the labor of engines and trades, and the labor of fields, I find the developments,
And find the eternal meanings.

Workmen and Workwomen!
Were all educations, practical and ornamental, well display'd out of
me, what would it amount to?
Were I as the head teacher, charitable proprietor, wise statesman,
what would it amount to?
Were I to you as the boss employing and paying you, would that
satisfy you?

The learn'd, virtuous, benevolent, and the usual terms;
A man like me, and never the usual terms.

Neither a servant nor a master am I;
I take no sooner a large price than a small price--I will have my
own, whoever enjoys me; 20
I will be even with you, and you shall be even with me.

If you stand at work in a shop, I stand as nigh as the nighest in the
same shop;
If you bestow gifts on your brother or dearest friend, I demand as
good as your brother or dearest friend;
If your lover, husband, wife, is welcome by day or night, I must be
personally as welcome;
If you become degraded, criminal, ill, then I become so for your
sake;
If you remember your foolish and outlaw'd deeds, do you think I
cannot remember my own foolish and outlaw'd deeds?
If you carouse at the table, I carouse at the opposite side of the
table;
If you meet some stranger in the streets, and love him or her--why I
often meet strangers in the street, and love them.

[...] Read more

poem by Walt Whitman
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Orchestrated Workplace

An equal opportunity employer
Their trades women and men
Work shoulder to shoulder
Each carrying their load
The metal shop works with brass
Results very rewarding

Labourers are always busy
Three or four different tasks
They have vital roles
Complementing the trades
Never any glory for them
Just constant action

The dress codes are strict
A bow tie and a suit
A very smart dress
No jeans or t shirts
The pants pulled up
Everybody neat and tidy

The foreman taps his desk
Calling them to order
He looks so smart
Dressed in a tux
Their total attention is his
His wish is their command

The workers check their machines
Their tools are ready to go
Tension is building
It's about time to start
The lights go down
The machines start as one

It is beautiful music
This workshops product
Created for their customers
All sitting in the dark
Applauding enthusiastically
Listening to Strauss' Blue Danube

poem by Phil Smith
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

There's only two givens with choosing acting as a profession: one is you will always be unemployed, always, and it doesn't matter how much money you make, you're still always going to be unemployed; and that you have no power.

quote by Frances McDormand
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

When we're unemployed, we're called lazy; when the whites are unemployed it's called a depression.

quote by Jesse Jackson
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Look at the Palestinians with the huge, huge percentage of unemployed. What does that breed? Anyone who's unemployed in the world, you feel there's no meaning and there's a risk that you drift over to something desperate. Yes, we have to tackle the social problems as well.

quote by Hans Blix
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Why are people unemployed? Because there is no work. Why is there no work? Because people are not buying products and services. Why are people not buying products and services? Because they have no money. Why do people have no money? Because they are unemployed.

quote by Craig Bruce
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

And The Cradle Will Rock

Well, they say its kinda frightnin how this younger generation swings.
You know, its more than just some new sensation.
Well, the kid is into losin sleep and he dont come home for half the week.
You know, its more than just an aggravation.
And the cradle will rock.
Yes, the cradle will rock.
And I say, rock on!
Rock on!
And when some local kid gets down, they try and drum him out of town.
They say, you coulda least faked it, boy.
At an early age he hits the street and winds up tied with who he meets,
And hes unemployed.
And the cradle will rock.
Yeah, the cradle will rock.
And I say, rock on!
Rock on!
Have you seen juniors grades?
And when some local kid gets down, they try and drum him out of town.
They say, you coulda least faked it, boy.
At an early age he hits the street and winds up tied with who he meets,
And hes unemployed. his folks are overjoyed.
And the cradle will rock.
Yeah, the cradle will rock.
And I say, rock on!
Rock on!
Rock on!
Rock on!

song performed by Van Halen
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

A Capitalist, a Socialist and a Poet

A Capitalist, a Socialist and a Poet

Capitalist: What profit's there to be made?
Socialist: And how the workers will get paid?
Poet: Forget potatoes and your stocks,
The beauty's in the shining locks
Of my sweet darling-there she is-
An angel gliding through the breeze.
Capitalist: That's fine and dandy. What's the price
Of that sweet bosom and those eyes?
What is the bottom line, my friend?
Socialist: This dreamy nonsense has to end-
With millions walking unemployed,
What beauty's there to enjoy?
Poet: And in the starlight late at night
I see my lady burning bright,
And that is all I really need-
No public good or private greed-
I want my freedom just to be
Away from life's banality.
Capitalist: Good luck, my friend, but then again
You could've been a richer man.
Socialist: And while your comrades starve and hurt,
All you can think of is some flirt,
Who steals men's wallets and their hearts,
While you pursue your foolish art.
Poet: Foolish or not, and who decides
What to extol or to deride,
What we imagine, what we seem,
What we aspire to and dream?
And do we know who we are
Beyond some house or a car,
Beyond our jobs, beyond this life
That starts at nine and ends at five?
Capitalist: You could, my friend, be self-employed.
Socialist: Or one of many unemployed.
Poet: I find my meaning in my art,
While beauty lies within the heart
And shared equally with all,
Igniting passion in the soul,
Beyond appearances and lies,
Beyond demand, beyond supply,
Beyond your wealth or state control-
Mine is the freedom of the soul
To love and dream and to behold
The beauty of the natural world.
Not to despise, and not to claim
To have some answers to your game
Of rich and poor - it's all the same -
I want to live before I die

[...] Read more

poem by Alexander Shaumyan
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!