Hazards of a Work Ethic

[FireEater]

Karoshi as a Way of Life

Watanabe Kanji was not a genius, nowhere even near
And he didn’t make it into Imperial, but he did get two degrees
The one in obedience and the other
In the art of pretending you do not exist

Or maybe I’m confusing him with somebody else
That’s what we all did
All the time
Until the day he disappeared that is

In brief he got the sack, poor darling,
And we didn’t even know
He didn’t dare come home to his wife that night
And she never saw him again

Instead he made his way to gruesome parts of Tokyo
Where tourists never ever go: no photographs!
And he was nearly three weeks dying
And nobody around him gave a damn

They stole his wallet so he was anonymous
For the paramedics who collected the carcass
One of them remembering the old film Ikiru,
Calling him Watanabe Kanji, for a last joke

Being forgiven and accepted never means so much
As when you know for sure they’re not for you
So tell me now, brothers and sisters
That there is no hell on earth

[hyperconjugated]

Va fan?

[keatonatron]

So what are the hazards of a work ethic?

[kanadajin]

I don't get it

[firescorpy]

what is this about?

[magma]

C'mon people, don't you recognize a jab at institutional dehumanization when you see it?

But seriously, IMHO, the OP is trying to make you take note of the emptyness and meangingless of struggling to survive in a world that doesn't really care whether you live or die, but demands you work your tail off to get ahead anyway. The poem is set in Japan, not because that is the only place where this is true, but because the Japanese work world is commonly percieved (at least outside Japan) as a demanding place where individuals are of little value, and thus the events of the poem seem more plausible taking place there.

The message of the poem is true insofar as the world indeed doesn't care whether you live or die. But it's also false, because summarizing the situation as "hell on earth" implies the absence of both God and any possibility of redemption, which is certainly not the case.

Being forgiven and accepted never means so much
As when you know for sure they’re not for you

It's true that the broken human system we all live and work in can't provide forgiveness and acceptance, but it's not true that "they're not for you", since both are available for free from God through Christ.

[Txkun]

Sad but nicely written... is it yours?

magma wrote:

The message of the poem is true insofar as the world indeed doesn't care whether you live or die. But it's also false, because summarizing the situation as "hell on earth" implies the absence of both God and any possibility of redemption, which is certainly not the case.

It's true that the broken human system we all live and work in can't provide forgiveness and acceptance, but it's not true that "they're not for you", since both are available for free from God through Christ.

"which is certainly not the case?"
I envy your faith.
For who doesn't belive in a right observer above us all the poem is just what life it is.
It's not just equal. Someone has too much... someone has nothing.

[Infidel]

But it's also false, because summarizing the situation as "hell on earth" implies the absence of both God and any possibility of redemption, which is certainly not the case.

Could we avoid stating mythology and superstition as if it were fact please.

Rykk

[richvh]

Personal religious and political beliefs are off topic in all forums here, including the Off-Topic forum.

[Mike Cash]

The Death of the Ball Turret Gunner
by Randall Jarrell

From my mother's sleep I fell into the State,
And I hunched in its belly till my wet fur froze.
Six miles from earth, loosed from its dream of life,
I woke to black flak and the nightmare fighters.
When I died they washed me out of the turret with a hose.

[paul_b]

richvh wrote:
Personal religious and political beliefs are off topic in all forums here, including the Off-Topic forum.

Er, so what in this thread hasn't been one of the above?

Not going to lock it?

[Infidel]

The Death of the Ball Turret Gunner
by Randall Jarrell

From my mother's sleep I fell into the State,
And I hunched in its belly till my wet fur froze.
Six miles from earth, loosed from its dream of life,
I woke to black flak and the nightmare fighters.
When I died they washed me out of the turret with a hose.

This is one of the few poems they made me read in English that I actually ended up appreciating. Especially when I read some graphic descriptions about what exactly a Ball Turret Gunner's life was like.

This is actually one of those understated poems.