How could I give
One hundred and thirty percent?
It doesnβt even present as sense
Yet, I pulled up buckets
Until the well gave nothing but
Gravel and silt
ππ«π
What comes in payment?
A reality check
The highest height
Doesnβt dole out extra dividends
It only plunges the
Lowest depth deeper
Leaving more bereft than
Ever before
Huddling below the
Previous basement floor
ππ«π
Yet, Iβm prodded on
Incited to trill
Louder than the loudest bell
The harder you strike my
Metallic shell
The vibrations defy all
Assumed logic
Increasing
In frequency and velocity
Infinitely colliding
Inside me
ππ«π
Until my form can take no more
From the vertex of
The bell curve
I crack
Splintering into
Rough-edged flinders
ππ«π
Every accolade and award
Crumbles
Neutralized by the venom inside
Yet, I canβt return
A second of wasted time
ππ«π
Liberation delivered on a
Platter of elucidation
All have to run their own
Eternal races
The only comparison
That could never be made
One day to the next
Even that is debated
ππ«π
Yet, here we are
Pitted against each other
In the struggle for survival
Pointing fingers and
Toppling belltowers
K.B. Silver
If you have ever read Kurt Vonnegut's Harrison Bergeron, you already know what this is all about. I was placed in a gifted program in elementary school. We were kept together in little bundles as we advanced through the grades. It was detrimental to us for a number of reasons, but a main one was that the other students hated us "taking all of the A's" because of the bell curve.
To be told your work was flawless, but only x number of As are allowed each quarter per class, was devastating. Not only that, I can't think of a single one of the gifted students who didn't have derangedly obsessed overachieving parents. Whoever got the dreaded B was always punished. I know my parents didn't want to hear about grading on a curve. I am not even sure they believed me when I said that was how grading worked.
Of course, as soon as I got out of school, I was hit with the unfortunate reality that employers don't want intelligent workers. School didn't want intelligent students. That's why they separated and alienated us from the teachers and other students. They want quiet ones.
If you point out a problem and suggest a solution at a job, prepare to be harassed until you quit. If you are great at your job, but get sick a little too often or even twice, see ya later. If you catch on to your supervisor's schemes, like stealing, you can bet you're getting fired, my friend (those weren't imagined examples; all three happened to me).
We do not live in a meritocracy; we live in a chain gang, and every step out of line, you will be forced back by the overseer's whip or frantically beaten into submission by those walking in front and behind.
About the Creator
K.B. Silver
K.B. Silver has poems published in magazine Wishbone Words, and lit journals: Sheepshead Review, New Note Poetry, Twisted Vine, Avant Appa[achia, Plants and Poetry, recordings in Stanza Cannon, and pieces in Wingless Dreamer anthologies.
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Comments (2)
Sad but true :( Brilliant writing, to get at a valid social critique. Shame on those employers, but that really is the way most of them function. People with power love to coddle themselves away from any criticism.
The image of pulling up buckets of silt after giving 130% is a great way to describe burnout. It is frustrating how schools and jobs often treat talent as a threat or something to be used up. Your point about systems preferring quiet compliance over actual intelligence makes sense.