On arrival this morning I stepped from the car,
Beaming forth through exhaustion a satisfied smirk,
For I’ve given due warning with efforts sub-par,
But today I shall strive to reach negative work.
Already I’ve been here an hour or so.
Not a minute’s production completed, I bet.
Four-hundred and twenty more minutes to go,
And I’ve not even turned my computer on yet.
My dawdle device is the rhyming of late:
Not so much "in the meantime" of work, as "instead."
These stanzas will do, but they’re not doing great.
At least I’ve got plenty more rhymes in my head.
I must strive in my absence of work to uphold
All the standards and ethics employees should wear.
While my efforts at [JOB] have decreased several-fold,
I think I’ve done well writing poetry there.
It’s not that my work ethic’s gone all to pot;
I am still quite aware of the contrary fact.
The poems it works for; for [JOB] it does not.
It’s the stupid compliance my work ethic’s lacked.
It’s well past my lunch hour, plodding along,
And that double-shot latte has made me all tense.
TWO-FISTED, DOWN-DOUBLET, PARIETUS PRONG
(I’m caffeined and given to not making sense).
So now then, where was I, and what was I saying?
It was something of coffee and slacking, I think.
I’ve little more humor to work toward conveying,
But there’s still so much work day to pour down the sink.
It’s time to depart for my afternoon break;
Of my fifteen short minutes, I’ll take thirty more.
‘Cause we all know it’s not like my job is at stake,
And there’s plenty of work here for me to ignore.
I return to my desk with a brief time to waste
And a stanza or two of my work left to write.
My time here at [OFFICE] did not suit my taste,
But salted my crazy with each boring bite.
I flee from the building at five with a grin
And the glint of the tedium pyre in my eyes.
My soul and my heart swell with hopes to begin,
And my pockets are filled up with office supplies.