Corporate Man

Syd

No interest in music or arts

He sees in black and white

Catches the eyes of the higher ups

Promotion's firmly in his sights

 

He quickly climbs the ladder

Of corporate greed and sin

Trampling on those who protest

Obeying urges from within

 

He memorises the code of conduct 

And the company culture wheel

There are no rewards for slacking

Or for those who see and feel

 

Breaking workers of free will

Under a hot asbestos roof

"Take your hands out of your pockets,

obey the company rules"

 

One day he's forwarded a fundraiser 

For muscular dystrophy

There's no empathy or donations 

From his six figure salary

 

The workers pockets are being squeezed

From spiralling inflation 

They're asking for a raise

To balance the work / life equation 

 

He sees an update for the fundraiser 

And he can't believe his eyes

If they didn't give so generously 

They wouldn't need a rise

 

Faced with his own dilemma 

Of rising care home costs 

He euthanises his own father 

Because he knows it's what he'd want

 

As ageing now slowly weathers him

He's finding it harder to speak

No more barking orders 

His once firm handshake becoming weak

 

These symptoms slowly amplify 

A specialist he's advised to see

He's given an ironic diagnosis 

Of muscular dystrophy 

 

The workplace holds a fundraiser 

And despite his miserly traits of late

And contrary to his preconceptions 

The workers all donate

 

He receives his specialist treatment 

Gets the therapy he needs

It's the best that money can buy 

But his muscles still deteriorate and seize

 

He's needing more care by the month 

Every day and around the clock 

His family move him to a care home

He's taking up time they haven't got

 

Severely limited in his independence 

Especially after his nasty fall

Adjusting to life in care

But things ain't so bad after all

 

There's another war in the far east

Inflation once again begins to rocket

His adult children calculating finances

They're severely out of pocket 

 

The rain is driving hard

When his offspring come to visit

They are steely and composed

An aura of a cost cutting audit

 

Dispatched efficiently and effectively 

While sleeping, looking gaunt

Raising a glass to his dignified end

Because they know it's what he'd want

 

  • Author: Syd (Online Online)
  • Published: June 6th, 2026 11:53
  • Comment from author about the poem: Real wealth is love, health and friendship. These people are poor.
  • Category: Short story
  • Views: 2
  • Users favorite of this poem: Paul Bell
Comments +

Comments1

  • Paul Bell

    Yes, no health and money aint worth didly squat, except to others.
    Some may say you reap what you sow, and so it seems.
    Do taxmen go to heaven, I wonder.



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