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Paul J Penton – Songwriter
“Release the Muse”
Daily writing – Picket Line – July 14
A barbecue pumps out another round of snags, rolled into a wafer of white pre-packaged bread, plastic in consistency . He holds it at an angle chaperoning the sauce to stay inside the confines as he makes his way to the picket line. The salty taste of the sauce and the smoky skin of the sausage are as welcome as a beer as he clocks on for his shift. He makes his way toward the raft of men and women that bob before the entrance, waiting for the next attempt at breaking their solidarity.
If threatened they’ll form a chain of linked arms, four deep – an armadillo of impenetrable humanity, a shield no one would dare run over. Each of them is a link in a chain that oils the cogs of camaraderie. Each head is the sharpened tooth of a hand saw , ready to cut and barb any would-be strike-breaker with a whiplash of vitriol. This is a game and they have an armoury of insults and tactics to draw on that would do a football crowd proud.
They’re all living together in this, ‘the union united cannot be divided’. The common thing to them all is the reek of perspiration, it seems normal pleasantries go out the window in this mob and deodorant goes with it. If that doesn’t halt anyone trying to ‘cross the line’ then there’s no hope. A rumour sweeps the crowd like a helicopter rotor that the police are getting involved, and they see a divvy van poking its nose out approaching from the far corner of the dock, traveling at a leisurely 10 kilometers per hour with a bus in tow. It’s windows with blacked out to hide the scabs .