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The Wage Slave

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    The Wage Slave

    Floyd Hoke-Miller


    It matters not your color,

    Your cult or craft or creed,

    If you're a wage-hour worker

    You're still a slave indeed.

    The ruling class is master

    And dollars are the chains

    By which they keep you bonded

    For purely personal gains.

    Two things are ever sacred,

    Their bank and ballot box

    And woe! the humble worker

    That tampers with their locks.

    They let you cast your ballot

    But keep the right of score

    And watch you make the money

    While they attend the store.

    This class is not your savior,

    In fact they'll never be --

    They'll always be your burden

    As long as you're not free.

    (Taken from A Laborer Looks At Life Then and Now:

    Poems from the Shop Floor
    , Flint, 1984)


    This poem is one of many published by the EServer at CMU, a nonprofit collective at Carnegie Mellon University.