Delicious carrots- -a call to poets

Hi. So this is a basic story, about how we give-up so much of ourselves to participate in this society, and the falseness of the perceived reward: money.
The carrot is a reference to how the old farmer strings a carrot in front of his horse's eyes, to keep the horse trotting.
Am interested in poetry, but not a good writer. So hopefully one or more poets could convert this short story into a poem, eliminating the unnecessary and awkward words.
Perhaps this will be fun, and will produce many different and original poems, with this as a common back-story.
The hope here, is to learn to be a better writer, and poet.
Thanks.



Delicious carrots.

Get-up at the crack of dawn, never quite rested enough.
The morning rush, wash, kids lunches, nice clothes, hurry-hurry.
The traffic struggle, judging harshly anyone whom might delay you 30 seconds.
Work begins, personality is suspended.
Playing a role, endlessly readjusting to appease the bonehead manager.
Do this, don't do that, you're not paid to think.
Completely relinquishing the best 8 hours of you, today.
But you do get some pretty good carrots.
Better than some, who only get crappy carrots.
Rejoice the whistle, free at last! To spend another hour,
sweltering in the stop-and-start metal-motion.
Tired and easily aggravated by dearest loved-ones. Regretful words.
Drown the souls cry for freedom, and observe the mindless broadcasts.
Succumb to exhaustion.
Rinse and repeat.
But at least the carrots are pretty good.

Soft soil
Scrawny carrots
Coarse soil
Strong carrots

a reply to: Nothin

cool.

I saw you're av and all i thought was that saying..

I came into this world with nothing, and i still have most of it left.

a reply to: Nothin


At dawn the walking dead enter the mold

they carry their souls into the fold

get out of the way they're making haste

a life of waste has a bitter taste

squares stuck in a cubicle

teeth biting a cuticle

don't think therefore you are

give it your all before you return to your car

driven by dangling carrots

listening to rambling parrots

exhausting fumes keep him smothered

while sour prunes keep him bothered

the return of a dead beat dad

kids cheering make him mad

as weary bones hit the couch

he got promoted to being a grouch

the program is working the brain

dangling carrots make up for the pain

Stop pretending to be brave...
You are little more than a slave...
Nobody cares you can not bear it...
Just shut up and eat your carrot...

originally posted by: skunkape23
Soft soil
Scrawny carrots
Coarse soil
Strong carrots

Thanks for your poem.
Have been trying to make the mental link between the original story, and your take.
First thing that came to mind was simple humor, comrade type of thing:

In Soviet Russia: all horses receive standard allotment of carrots.

But is it possible that you have altered the original meaning of carrots, from being portrayed as a hypnotizing lie, to being something good? Like for someone that thinks money is a really good thing? Then if soil is used as a metaphor for a persons mettle: the poem could be taken as meaning that a weak effort/soft neurotic person, would end-up in a crappy economic work/slave situation with all of those daily struggles, but a strong-smart effort/determined person, will rise-above the drudgery, and not be affected by the struggles of the other?

Is that anywhere near what you were going for, or is it just a wild creation?
Does anyone else have an idea on this?
Thank-you.

originally posted by: Encryptor
a reply to: Nothin

cool.

I saw you're av and all i thought was that saying..

I came into this world with nothing, and i still have most of it left.

Hi. Thanks for your reply.
If you have less nothing: are you somehow stuck with something you don't really need/want?
Peace.

originally posted by: PoetryInMotion
a reply to: Nothin


At dawn the walking dead enter the mold

they carry their souls into the fold

get out of the way they're making haste

a life of waste has a bitter taste

squares stuck in a cubicle

teeth biting a cuticle

don't think therefore you are

give it your all before you return to your car

driven by dangling carrots

listening to rambling parrots

exhausting fumes keep him smothered

while sour prunes keep him bothered

the return of a dead beat dad

kids cheering make him mad

as weary bones hit the couch

he got promoted to being a grouch

the program is working the brain

dangling carrots make up for the pain

Hi. Thanks for your poem. It's clear to see how you boiled it down, and gave it more powerful words.
Also impressive is how it finishes so strong and solid.
Favorite line: "he got promoted to being a grouch".
Thank you very much, and hope you return to further enrich the thread.

originally posted by: 5StarOracle
Stop pretending to be brave...
You are little more than a slave...
Nobody cares you can not bear it...
Just shut up and eat your carrot...

Hi. Thanks for this angle.
The voice of the invisible hand, that keeps us down. Putting us back in our place, and perpetuating the status-quo.
The working stiff doesn't get a voice, or has an insignificant one.
Peace.

a reply to: Nothin

It just came out of me.
Like a carrot from soil.
Don't over think it.

a reply to: skunkape23

Thanks for the reminder.


Carrot Lords observe intently
As mindless souls scurry about
But one looks up, quite incidentally
A question forms, a tiny doubt

What if there is more to this?
Why are things this way?
She shrugged it off, it had no merit
Much more normal, to chase an old carrot.

Got to get that carrot
Got to get that carrot
If I ever get that carrot
I swear that I will share it

Carrots in the morning.
Carrots in the evening.
Carrots in the afternoon.
Oh Bugs-a-Buuuuuuuuunny!
Where arrrrrre you?