Day 9. Per Writer’s Digest: For today’s prompt, write a work poem.
First, when I walk into work it’s the smell,
a carpeted hell made of chemicals, only acceptable
because of our inflexible need for the cheese.
It’s our disease, this desire for cheese;
we’re all buzzing like bees to please the king,
to sing for the boss on his corporate cross.
Yes we crave praise and payday and fair play
enough to invent that unholy ascent, the promotion
based on devotion and the notion that if I try harder
they will raise me up farther until I’m no longer aware
that nothing is fair, and I should run for the hills,
tear up the bills, and set my will free,
become absentee, live a life without walls,
full of bird-calls and waterfalls,
and worship the breeze instead of the cheese.
~ Liesl Dineen