Alt text:
Boss made a dollar
I made a dime
that was a poem
from a simpler time
Now the boss makes a thousand
and gives us a cent
while hes got employees
who cant pay rent
So when boss makes a million
nd the workers make jack
thats when we strike
and take our lives back
For the abolition of work. Yes really, abolish work! Not "reform work" but the destruction of work as a separate field of human activity.
To save the world, we're going to have to stop working! — David Graeber
A strange delusion possesses the working classes of the nations where capitalist civilization holds its sway. ...the love of work... Instead of opposing this mental aberration, the priests, the economists, and the moralists have cast a sacred halo over work. — Paul Lafargue
In communist society, where nobody has one exclusive sphere of activity but each can become accomplished in any branch he wishes, society regulates the general production and thus makes it possible for me to do one thing today and another tomorrow, to hunt in the morning, fish in the afternoon, rear cattle in the evening, criticise after dinner, just as I have a mind, without ever becoming hunter, fisherman, herdsman or critic. — Karl Marx
In the glorification of 'work', in the unwearied talk of the 'blessing of work', I see the same covert idea as in the praise of useful impersonal actions: that of fear of everything individual. — Friedrich Nietzsche
If hard work were such a wonderful thing, surely the rich would have kept it all to themselves. — Lane Kirkland
The bottom line is simple: all of us deserve to make the most of our potential as we see fit, to be the masters of our own destinies. Being forced to sell these things away to survive is tragic and humiliating. We don’t have to live like this. ― CrimethInc
Reminded me of Maggie's Farm, though originally it's Bob Dylan, I love Rage Against the Machine's version. I love the rage there.
https://youtu.be/q3euAfNhuR4?si=R_fZq2F1L-tiUHcO
I ain't gonna work on Maggie's Farm, no more
No, I ain't gonna work on Maggie's Farm, no more
Well, I wake up in the morning, fold my hands, and pray for rain
I got a head full of ideas, that are drivin' me insane
It's a shame, the way she makes me
Scrub the floor
I ain't gonna work on, nah
I ain't gonna work on Maggie's Farm, no more
I ain't gonna work for Maggie's brother, no more
Nah, I ain't gonna work for Maggie's brother, no more
Well, he hands you a nickel, and he hands you a dime
And he asks you with a grin, if you're havin' a good time
Then he fines you every time
You slam the door
I ain't gonna work for, nah
I ain't gonna work for Maggie's brother, no more
I ain't gonna work for Maggie's pa, no more
No, I ain't gonna work for Maggie's pa, no more
Well, he puts his cigar out in your face just for kicks
His bedroom window it is made out of bricks
The National Guard
Stands around his door
I ain't gonna work for, nah
I ain't gonna work for Maggie's pa, no more
I ain't gonna work for Maggie's ma, no more
No, I ain't gonna work for Maggie's ma, no more
Well, she talks to all the servants about man and God and law
And everybody says, she's the brains behind pa
She's 68, but she says she's 24
I ain't gonna work for, nah
I ain't gonna work for Maggie's ma, no more
I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm, no more
No, I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm, no more
Well, I try my best to be just like I am
But everybody wants you to be just like them
They sing while they slave
And they just get bored
I ain't gonna work on, nah
I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm, no more