Interactive Social Network with hours of Visual Poetry for YOU to enjoy for FREE. http://www.poetryvisualized.com  "POETRY OF THE PEOPLE" (POP) Series features DR. FRANK L. MEYSKENS, JR. reading "THE WELDERS" another poem from his collection of poetry called "Aching For Tomorrow", This poem is a tribute, a recognition of the role of those who build the physical structure of the hospital - referred to here as the welders - who in turn pave the way for those who provide the medical care to the patients once the building structure is completed. http://www.poetryvisualized.com/media/2328/POP_Series_-The_Welders_by_Dr._Frank_Meyskens_Jr./ http://www.poetryvisualized.com/media/2328/POP_Series_-The_Welders_by_Dr._Frank_Meyskens_Jr./ I went into the staff room on my break. I opened up the 'fridge and got inside. The door slammed shut. That made the bottles shake. Good sign at least, the light stayed on. I tried but failed to find a latch. I thought: “Cold trap! To yell would use up all the air in here. To sleep I might not wake or I could tap in hope that someone, sometime just might hear.” I woke without a scream but wet with sweat. The trap was not my job but my despair of doing what I someday might regret. To get such good advice in life is rare. I faced a truth I never would admit. With no excuse I said, "I have to quit." http://www.poetryvisualized.com/media/2007/THE_REAL_REASON_I_LEFT/ http://www.poetryvisualized.com/media/2007/THE_REAL_REASON_I_LEFT/ I try not staring at the guy who stares at me all day. These cubicles get stale. I keep out of our company's affairs. One sight of HER, we all turn pale. Can't even look back at the boss, I'm told. I see them shifting past, some bounding stud or biased holy, rookies buffed and bold. Not work, it's war. They're out for blood. They say they'll treat me royal if I make it through the ranks. Across, the other team's new guy, the rumor says, is out to take my spot. I ask, "Who sets up these extremes? Who moves the mover of us pawns?" Next I expect to hear “The queen is dead, the king's been checked!” Add a caption ENDGAME I try not staring at the guy who stares at me all day. These cubicles get stale. I keep out of our company's affairs. One sight of HER, we all turn pale. Can't even look back at the boss, I'm told. I see them shifting past, some bounding stud or biased holy, rookies buffed and bold. Not work, it's war. They're out for blood. They say they'll treat me royal if I make it through the ranks. Across, the other team's new guy, the rumor says, is out to take my spot. I ask, "Who sets up these extremes? Who moves the mover of us pawns?" Next I expect to hear “The queen is dead, the king's been checked!” http://www.poetryvisualized.com/media/1947/ENDGAME/ http://www.poetryvisualized.com/media/1947/ENDGAME/