poem about work

life and his aspects (work !)

life is beutifull and has many aspects. Life has also many sides and like every human i also like to put things in boxes. Today we talk about work. And about the colours of it. But also about the risk, because if you chooce the wrong job, you turn grey. So be aware and watch out for the greys !

greys art from someone from google, beutifull art peace but not from mee

I’ve had many jobs in  my life and most of them sucked. most of them where boring and monotone, the same every day, boring, the same circle every day, the same routibe. Routine is inportand and liniair aslo it forms a base and creats calmnesss. But it can also turn you grey. Like everything. can turn you greyu, eventually everythinhg turns grey. life ends the earth end the univurse glows out and turns grey . so when everythiung is this grey arouynd you, why would you also be grey, some jobs do., Never take a job that ,makes you dull and grey, you only have one life. When i look at those office buildings with people in the same suite, same job, same builidng. i see one machine. one working machine, people being forced into boxes, lottaraly somtimes haha/. Thats not good ofcourse. people will get sad becausae of it, get depression, and lose their lives 🙁

that’s why i want to be an artist give more conciousness to people about who they are, give more coulour to people who want it, be spontainious. give and share <3

Rainbow tipi <3

rainbow family tipi's greys <3 <3

short poem from me, greys

so i made a short poems about the greys, please don’t turn grey 🙁

love and kisses !

I see grays I se coulour I see grays with hidden coulour but the fraysnever seem to notice.

They work and work and keep working all they. The same routine the same game. They never aloud to feel and Always stuk. Like a rabbit popping from a hole depression kicks in. You can all it funny but for me it’s not. Seeing them sucked out like empty patato bags. zombies being slay’n. Thanks to the grey’s .

Whats the poijnt, whats the point , what’s the point.

Like an eye when you focus to long on one thing you can’t see anymore.

Purple is my colour.

But like butterfleis they throw of their shells and fly away. Spreading colour across the galaxy leaving traces behind and flowering life.

But noone wins from the greys

no one . Money will Always win., money will Always win, the wave is unstopable like panters slicing up those beutifull butterflies who the ly very sofly sad in the mud, sad.

 

Am i joking or is this fun ?

Renee de Graaff

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