‘Twas the night before Monday
And all through the nation
There were people in need
Of another vacation.
They’d worked all their lives
Forty hours or more,
Fighting tooth and nail
For a new higher score.
The cost of the score
Was not steep if you count
Sanity and free time
As a meager amount,
And so they awoke
To commute and check out
And that, my dear kids,
Is what work’s all about.
Filed under Poems
Today we got to experience twice
The hour of 1:00 AM.
As hours go, it was very nice
And my sleep was remarkably REM.
Tomorrow I get to experience once
The hour of butt-crack-of-dawn
So I sign off this poem with the word “dunce”
And a working man’s 8:00 PM yawn.
Filed under Poems
My boss said I’m incompetent
Because I visit the bathroom a lot.
Then I developed incontinence
And now visit that room I do not.
Filed under Poems
‘Twas on a night near end of Spring
When I was asked to write a thing
Describing how the flowers bloomed
Even though humanity’s doomed.
“Roses are red“, so started my verse
“And violets are blue, unlike that hearse.”
And then I decided since I’d end up dead
To quit writing poems and play golf instead.
So wrote a lesser poet just days
Before he was eaten by the undead horde.
When apocalypse comes, I’ll struggle in ways
But never complain that, when writing, I’m bored.
Filed under Poems
I got through a day that was difficult
Like climbing the face of a hill
By sacrificing the strength if my body
And exercising my will.
Long are the days that I labor
But worthy are arduous climbs,
Or so I thought ‘til I realized
I have to do this 11,000 more times…
Filed under Poems
There once was a poet at work
(I’m at lunch, so naught do I shirk).
I ate quickly so
I cranked out a po
Em. How’s that for a quirk?
Filed under Poems
Today I worked an eight-hour day
And did not feel blue
Until I finally realized
I must tomorrow too…
Filed under Poems
If, instead of cubicles,
We gave all employees
Their own private bathroom
And a set of private keys
So they could sit on porc’lain throne
And work at the same time
Productivity would go up
By a factor of eight or nine.
Filed under Poems
You hear me say, you hear me holler:
“Another day, another dollar.”
My boss says hey, my boss says “So,
“We bought a bot. You got to go.”
So I reply, so I concur:
“I don’t know why, but I guess sure.”
Then I left with a smile, since
My boss bought the bot from a Nigerian prince.
Filed under Poems
I’m inspired by that hand dryer
That’s supposed to blow the air
So the water that was on your hands
Is, well, no longer there
But it one day just decided
“I don’t like this anymore,
“So let them press my button
“And then remember what pants are for.”
Filed under Poems
The Daily Travesty 