Corporate Games

By Christine Johnson

Renee Good
A poem for Renee- from one poet to another. RIP dear friend

I never heard of Renee Good, until the day she died
Until Kristi Noem went on tv and told us all a lie
Said Good was bad and deserved her fate
Cept she forgot we could view the tapes

The Good were in the car, in the protest line
The agent came to film the car and Becca asked him why
They were told to move along, Renee put the car in drive
It was the last thing she’d ever do. Renee would not survive

An ICE agent in the USA felt this was a crime
So he took his pistol from his hip and shot Renee three times
With the gun still hot and a smirk on his lips
He called Renee Good a fucking bitch

The trump machine was quick to respond
Said the Goods were in the wrong
Said they attempted to run him down
But the video says different and so does the town

Everyone is asking, where do we go from here?
Do we fight like hell or live in fear?
Every day we hear trump crossed a line
And everyone can see, trump has lost his mind

Money and Power has gripped our leaders souls
There is even talk to eliminate our polls
The battle is all uphill
The blood of many, already spilled

But history reminds us, they will not win
There will be justice for their sins
So for now and for Renee!
Lets fight these assholes every day!

---

Corporate Games

With deliberate thought they set a snare
They circled around her, wands in the air
She thought she could use her usual defenses
Her intuition was strong, she had six difference senses

She would use her diplomacy and tack
Make compelling arguments, point out the facts
But that just made their tempers flare
So she tempered herself, selected her words with care

She attempted to lead with empathy
Put her intellect down, make her ego flee
But that only worked for a little while
Because when you give an inch, they take a mile

They walked and trampled all over that girl
So her anger erupted: her fury unfurled
She strategized plans and prepared for war
If it was a battle they wanted, she’d keep the score

She studied in books, learned to speak their language
Dissected each conversation, causing great mental anguish
She became the player they wanted to defeat
She could separate out the chaff from the wheat

Every swipe they took she blocked with her sword
They would not stop until her blood was poured
She stayed up nights, drawing up maps
Reinforcing the walls, finding the gaps

Soon she grew weary of defending her castle
Was success worth the weight of this hassle?
The pause allowed them to box her in
She knew she was cornered, she could not win

Everyone it seemed came from the town
And cheered as she was forced to lay her sword down
Her pride took the hit, she spilled blood
Her body crumbled, face first in the mud

But something arose on her way to the ground
A glimmer of hope, a sweet little sound
She realized there may be more to this life
A chance to do away with this strife

While the crowd was feasting on her spoils
the treasure she earned from hard word and toil
She saw she had something more valuable than gold
The worth of her being and the story it told

She would channel her anger and her pain
Create a new world, turn loss into gain
She would use the time she had spent fighting
To put pen to paper and focus on writing

She’d spin up poems with tales of her battles
Hold herself tender, while remembering her shackles
She’d slow down and listen to birds
Make a little living, crafting her words

She’d still struggle with needing to win
But knew that surrender was best, when the walls closed in
The game was always meant to pit us against
To keep our bodies tight, and our jaws clenched

But here is the rub, even if you are crowned the winner
The vultures will circle, waiting for dinner
The competition of Corporate sounds good in the moment
But it eats at your soul and causes you torment.

About The Author

I work corporate by day, but all the time in between I am building a little life crafting my words into language that feels like me.

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