"administrative" poems
autonomous memetic devices
mewling absurdism after absurdism
incognito the non-sequiturs substantiate
administrative staff of the regaling suppositories
for all the good they will do you
you might as well shove them up your ****
Mar 16, 2016
Mar 16, 2016 at 1:39 AM UTC
Shoot me, You might as well, cause I'm a threat
A threat to your system, a threat to your net
profit and status quo, so pick up that gun shoot me and pray to the ground I go, and when you bury me you better call me a madman and pray that the martyrs don't grow
You may as well shoot me Mr.Police officer,
It may put your employers at ease
One bless black man with a heart of power
One less antibiotic to your disease
Don't forget to tell me I'm resisting, don't forget to tase me til I fall
Don't forget to choke me so those listening won't hear my struggles, my calls
Don't forget to have the media depict me as a **** and a criminal and a menace to society
Don't forget to reprimand and berate me
Remind your older white listeners that my kind, my skin color
is still not considered American Propriety
But more like American property, disposable goods
So **** me, the cameras are recording but don't worry you'll get off free
Might be just a conviction but your Massa's new henchmen and ***** still got the key
A couple months paid administrative leave so you can sit on a beach, drink some ice tea
Mad that you can no longer put chains on our wrists so you put handcuffs instead
No longer pulling whips across our backs so you bury hot burning lead
No longer working your fields for all to see but instead privatized free prison labor with your warden holding the key.
Martin told me when he us that he had a dream
I got his same DNA in my bloodstream
And in every cell in my body I feel the effect, I teem
I boil I scream, when I see a black mother or father gunned down by police men and the children witnessing the death, the blood, the stream.....
I scheme, and when I sleep, I dream
And when I dream it's bad news for you
to avenge those we lost by crimes, undue
To put a stop to all of you.
Jun 14, 2017
Jun 14, 2017 at 9:13 PM UTC
April 23.
My birthday is tomorrow;
I took off work to celebrate.
My boyfriend and I are going to get lunch.
“Administrative Professionals’ Day” is today.
My coworkers get a cookie text
From my manager—
That’s an 8x8 square of cookie
Topped with saccharine frosting
And edible paper.
The printer jams.
Someone heats up fish for lunch.
Time drags on.
On my way home,
I pass by the cemetery.
A woman sits at the edge of the garden
Where her baby is buried.
She adjusts the Easter decorations she set out last week.
Pastel-colored eggs, a small rabbit.
Near her, his younger brother wanders about
Picking dandelions and
Hopping over graves and
Waving to passing cars.
The child touches his mom’s shoulder
And points out a bird.
They look at it together,
Then get in the car.
Time passes by.
Tonight, I think I’ll make pasta for dinner.
There’s half a jar of red sauce in the fridge
Perfect for one meal.
There won’t be any leftovers,
But that’s fine.
After, I sit at my computer.
My friends are around to play games tonight,
So I nurse a *** and Coke
And hunt ghosts
Until my eyelids grow heavy.
Time flies.
Finally beneath cool sheets,
I reflect on today—
April 23.
My birthday is tomorrow;
I took off work to celebrate.
My boyfriend and I are going to get lunch.
May 16, 2024
May 16, 2024 at 9:05 PM UTC
The highs and lows of living life
Occur in sweeping loops
The ups and downs of everything
Are determined by the groups
Of numbers as they glide
Across a digital display,
In rendering the parabolas
Of this game of life we play.
The winning runs of business
A sweet windfall of cash
Temptation to extend that deal
Beyond …is perhaps rash;
It may just tip the balance
Commence the start of the decline
And your parabolic plunge
Will see you quailing to divine.
How you claw your way to solvency
You sweat to make it right,
How you battle tax malignancy
To surmount official might.
The administrative penchants
Of administrative types
Who insist on crossing every “T”
And switching “OUT” the lights.
Having made it, you sit astride the top
And bask in shining light.
You cast off the cloak of caution,
Claim success as yours by right.
But by morning there’s a thunderstorm
A headache and a snag,
By lunch evicted on the street
With your belongings in a bag.
The ups and downs of life my friend
Are a parabolic coast
One day you’re sitting pretty
The next day you are toast.
The only consolation
Of this constant change of state
Is the reconstructive challenge
In re-determining your fate.
So gird yourself my beauty
Hitch your belt another notch
And launch yourself at living
Before you seek that midnight watch.
For tomorrow is a mystery
The possibilities are vast
And paradoxically speaking
The very best is usually last.
Marshalg
Mangere Bridge
20th July 2008
May 11, 2010
May 11, 2010 at 4:55 PM UTC
In the grand tapestry of teaching, oh what an irony,
Heavy workloads and limited time, a teacher's reality.
The demands of planning and administrative tasks,
Leave little room for professional growth, an ironic mask.
Standardized assessments hold their prominent sway,
Personalized instruction often pushed astray.
In the pursuit of measurable student success,
Oh what an irony, tailored learning becomes less.
Creativity yearns to dance with the curriculum's frame,
But guidelines and standards can stifle its flame.
Balancing innovation and prescribed requirements,
Oh what an irony, creativity often expires.
Assessment-focused teaching takes center stage,
Holistic development may find itself in a cage.
The pressure to achieve desired outcomes so keen,
Oh what an irony, limiting the broader learning scene.
Teachers, pillars of education, yet often unrecognized,
Their impact immense, but acknowledgment minimized.
In the realm of recognition and fair compensation,
Oh what an irony, undervaluing their dedication.
Autonomy, a cherished gift for teachers to possess,
But administrative constraints can hinder their success.
Top-down decisions and rigid schedules in place,
Oh what an irony, limiting their teaching grace.
Work-life balance, a delicate tightrope to tread,
Nurturing students' well-being while their own is spread.
In the pursuit of equilibrium, an ironic juggle,
Teaching others to thrive, their own balance a struggle.
Outcomes become paramount, their value held high,
Yet the process of learning can sometimes pass by.
Prioritizing scores over growth and lifelong skills,
Oh what an irony, neglecting the learning thrills.
In the world of teaching, ironies abound,
Navigating the contradictions, often profound.
But amidst these challenges, educators endure,
Oh what an irony, their passion remains pure.
May 15, 2023
May 15, 2023 at 2:48 AM UTC
ANTLIKE STRENGTHS
A poem by Tricia Hague-Barrett 1993
An ant carries its large load across the cracks
in the path on its way homeward
Nothing gets in its way
Nothing prevents him from succeeding,
If only I could have seen the end in the beginning
where struggles are frequent but passable,
testing but not breaking my resolve to give in
to the desparate feelings of loneliness, tiredness.
Ant-like, I too have to learn to carry the heavy load,
The Teaching load, the Administrative load,
carry it across potholes, ditches, mountains
and through distant valleys of calmness.
Turbulent tests, stumbling stones,
each there to guide me along the way
Like guardian angels, each one
Heralding the Dawn of a New Day.
Ends.
(C) 1993
Nov 9, 2015
Nov 9, 2015 at 4:45 PM UTC
Who are the seers of this world?
Oftentimes, their perceived sense of safety is fenced-in by their very constraint.
Dare you be different in the age of minimalistic conformity?
On our own heads be it, my delicately-dancing friends of eggshell walkways.
Seasonal variance has already begun, despite our willful resistances.
In our perceived safety, we have mismanaged a nest of rich paupers.
But our administrative denunciations will crumble in the state which dwarfs individuals for the purposes of cultivating docile allegiances at a cost that no words could ever articulate.
Thank you, my postmodern travelers of continuum.
One more thing - have a good night.
Dec 31, 2013
Dec 31, 2013 at 4:13 PM UTC
They're on administrative leave like they asked us permission to leave our bodies... Lifeless
Or
They should have gotten permission to be dismissed BEFORE they left our bodies... Lifeless
Land of the free....How about Land on our Knees
Where we should be until we all can stand as tall as a tree.... Not hanging, from a tree
The noose has been replaced by a shiny black casing, The broken neck has been replaced by blood freely flowing The tree has been used to make OUR encasing.... The result... [hashtag]this [hashtag]that [hashtag]blacklivesmatter
but... [hashtag]itdoesntmatter because apparently we are not all made of equal matter
Sterling Silver used to be considered quality , but apparently...that's dead.
B stands for bold. Beautiful. Brave. Boisterious, without the B in black there consists just a Lack of color, creativity, attitude...
Lying to us daily, telling us our skin color isn't a crime only that it cuts short our time to be
Alive. Breathing, Heart beating, Lub Dub Lub Dub Lu....ve you are the two words that you may never hear. Are the two words that they don't get to hear because
Crack. Pop pop pop Hands up Don't ..... Blood flowing on the streets, like road **** except I'd hoped by now evolution would have taken us to the top of the animal kingdom, but there's still more outrage over Harambi the silverback than Philando Castile, violently attacked...
Pronunciation please: Blac (black) B-L-A-C
is still the same pronouncement without the
K.....K... K . Still afraid to wake up day after day after day... Not knowing if this could be our last where the blackness on our skin becomes our permanent surroundings
Or Not knowing if this could be our last where the blackness on our skin becomes the ghost of Christmas future, the past and present left to rest in peace...
We should be praising the Lord when we wake up on the land of living, breathing, heart beating, lub dub lub dub....
HANDS UP ..... But you asked for my license's I was already reaching...
Don't shoot.... But I wasn't planning to, my four year old is in clear view.
May 31, 2017
May 31, 2017 at 9:14 PM UTC
Courage born from necessity.
Strength born from caring.
Experience born from being present.
In my life nothing other than motherhood
has challenged me more
than becoming a nurse.
Becoming a nurse takes much longer
than the years spent in a grueling
program at school jumping through
the administrative hoops.
If it were not for the experiences
I have lived through
and other people's experiences
I have lived with them,
I would not know my own
inner strength.
I would not know that I
could be courageous.
For in seeing the depths of despair
and the heights of joy
in people at their most extremes
have I been able to find my place
in this world.
Have I found joy and courage,
pain and love.
Holding a dying woman's hand.
Cleaning infected wounds.
Bathing those too weak to help themselves.
Listening to the tortured minds of the distressed.
And within these experiences
learning that one MUST act.
And in order to act, one MUST
face fears of every order.
And in the face of fear
knowing what to do
the right thing that must be done
one finds the very courage to do it.
And not only have I found courage
within myself. I have been humbly
able to provide the strength for
other to face their fears
and to act courageously as well.
Oct 6, 2011
Oct 6, 2011 at 10:02 PM UTC
these words are dedicated to you
the x-man
your powers are seemingly endless
they have no bounds
you still appear in our conversations and arguments
long after you are no longer around
you can travel through time.
accusations fly like bullets do
i thought i had the power to dodge them
but im not like you
i take direct hits on a daily basis and am quickly headed towards critical
these hypothetical concerns she has regarding my fidelity are addressed so often
they are beginning to seem literal
you can control her mind.
its as if you can feel it whenever we begin to get close
as if she hasnt had enough
you prescribe another dose
stick around just long enough to leave your mark
then shadow her radiance
you consume her light with your dark
you are everywhere and nowhere
when she needed you
only absence was felt
now that she begs distance
you surround her, in suffocating fashion
just like a belt
you can teleport.
this is titled X-Men for a reason
because its astonishing how you posses these sort of abilities
it seems you will always have an administrative advantage
an emperor like rule
but the only power that you posses, is fueled by her
and you have it because she allows you to.
Apr 24, 2013
Apr 24, 2013 at 1:14 PM UTC
The doors open.
Engines roar and wind howls
The smell of exhaust fills the space
Here stand, weighted down, with clenched bowels
The line moves forward at a dizzying pace
I make eye contact with JM and hand him my line
I pivot and jump and for a moment I'm flying
All I see is blue sky, my feet feet point at the horizon
One thousand, two thousand, three thous.....ahhh!
The chute opens with a thundering snap
Check the risers, check the canopy, watch the plane fly away
Look down at the world, spread out below like a map
Taste the air, feel the wind, get control of my sway
Undo the ties holding the weapon case on my side
Give a whoop!
No, be quiet
Professional pride
Look at how the sun reflects off the stream below me in the woods and turns it into a molten golden serpent.
Right now, if someone saw my eyes tear up I'd blame it on the wind
Oh, how long until I can do this again?
Aug 30, 2013
Aug 30, 2013 at 1:55 AM UTC
Here I am, an Educator, new-formed
And on the verge of ideas and thoughts
That I’m told are too lofty, too grand, for their
Purposes of having students graduate at Funding’s Earliest
Convenience. Administrative charms
Have already told me not to display
Myself and my passions with honesty. I must teach
Like I am greater than them,
Like I approach our stories each
Day with a very very serious
Focus on structure and style and each
Incredibly important
Comma. But I know the Truth.
The Truth is that the richest
I’ve ever felt was when my educational harvest
Had received its lowest return. I first thought, “How shall
I punish? How shall I repay
Your bad behavior's damage with more damage? Your
Misbehavior doesn’t deserve my toil;
Your disrespect was just as bad as their
Records said it would be!” But then my reason
For anger crumbled, and I let love strengthen
My tired and trodden heart, as
I decided to speak to my students with the honesty their
Lives often lack from authority. Intentionality, Honesty, Truth. No amount of years
Will change what I’ve learned in Year Zero: to let love increase.
Dec 5, 2018
Dec 5, 2018 at 8:50 PM UTC
Earlier this week I set in motion a plan,
To work my hours and find time to make flan,
On the weekend I'd make it my priority,
To sought out my administrative atrocity,
Two days, nay! A life time's worth,
Of time to finish this boorish work,
Of course boss, I have recreation still,
To coat the shed with eucalyptus fill,
No worries colleague It wouldn't harden,
My troubled schedule to tend your garden,
I will just polish my parents road,
With haste to lighten my cruel workload,
Deadlines are pushing me toward the abyss,
I've been sent to serve as a court's witness,
Out of time, out of mind,
I'm just fine, Last line.
Feb 13, 2016
Feb 13, 2016 at 7:27 AM UTC
dragging our voices
through detailed agendas
paying meticulous attention
to points of marginal interest
to please bureaucrats
who most likely just
stamp RECEIVED
on the file
and lay it to rest
quietly
in bottomless
desk drawers
Mar 15, 2015
Mar 15, 2015 at 6:39 PM UTC
they whisper in reverent tones
on the television,
hushed, in awe,
struck dumb
by the images
of fifty-nine tomahawk cruise missiles
a flaccid, wanna-be-strongman
just launched at Syria,
a country whose refugees
and babies we'd rather see
washed-up on the sands
of foreign lands than safely
at peace in our homeland.
Brian Williams calls
the spectacle, "beautiful."
sociopathic pundits in ecstasy,
spewing meek excuses
like babbling baboons, buffoons
lusting for an **** of nihilistic violence.
they invoke their dead gods,
beseech the "Almighty" to bless
their bloodstained hands,
and say this is how a demagogue
acts presidential.
beat the war drums in quick succession.
about face in a new direction.
left, left, left, right, left.
it doesn't matter who sits
in the Oval Office, war
makes America great again,
boosting administrative approval ratings
and corporate coffers, revenue soaring
like sky-rocketing jet-fuel.
we cannot pummel the world
into submission with munitions,
but that won't stop us from trying.
planting early graves
like seeds in the ground,
bearing fruit that spoils
and keeps this whole sick joke
spinning perpetually around.
we **** people who **** people
because killing people is wrong.
what i'd give to wake
to a world not torn
apart by war.
Apr 7, 2017
Apr 7, 2017 at 9:03 AM UTC
Who are we without it, verses, who can we become with it...
Hope is not a feeling or emotion but the desire to believe good things will happen. A believer knows that their HOPE is solid; concrete evidence that is grounded in the knowledge of facts that cannot lie. Many people think that hoping for a good day or hoping for a loved one to survive but there is no guarantee it will happen. That's is called "wishful thinking" and it is undependable, also it has no power to bring anything passed it.
In my case, I didn't always have it and at one point... I was absolutely defeated by dismay. My 7th-grade year started off great but towards the end, I had classmates bullying me. They belittled me in numerous ways by taunting me with my mistakes and purposely making my life a living hell. I was threatened to be "ganged'' and ambushed on a daily basis, to the point of administrative leave was forced for my safety and well-being but it didn't stop there... My classmates cyber-bullied me to believe this world was a better place without me. Honestly, I had literally no idea from the start it would end up being this bad. I often cried until I tried to end my very existence on multiple occasions. Because I had no Hope and often couldn't cope with what was happening to me.
Until one day, my mother sat me down, talked to me about her story and how her life was similar to mine. I realized I was entertaining my enemies by allowing them to torment my emotions in dangerous ways by practicing destructive habits and I learned to turn their undermining comments into fuel...
My own mother placed a seed of hope in my mind and it bloomed like a Cherry Blossom Tree. I have hoped for the light and the end of the tunnel but now I have restored my sight to my blinded eyes and the desire to live a full happy life Mentally and spiritually. Hope is a sure anchor of the soul and is far superior to that of my world.
Today I am stronger and happier than ever. I have suffered but learned so much, that with Hope, I will always have this feeling of relief.
I am grateful that I found HOPE. Because if not I probably won't be writing this. My story would have faded in the years to come.
Sep 12, 2018
Sep 12, 2018 at 10:53 AM UTC
Dejected by the performance
in an administrative test
a guy returning home
couldn't give his best
Perturbed mind
deluged with spike
It was only his reflexes
controlling his bike
A crowd gathered
on the road
grabbed his attention
switching off his thinking mode
He applied brakes
only to know
the real life and the turns
it takes
An office guy
had met an accident
remaining was the trampled car
while the soul had gone far
Filled with mixed feelings
of guilt and fear
sitting on the roadside
he couldn't stop his tear
Gathering himself
he kicked the bike
Mind was dumb
with no more spike
He reached home
and hugged his parents
he had got his answers
and he never laments
In spite of aiming high targets
he now accomplishes his immediate goals
Instead of showing off in the society
he plays his each and every role
For now, life is his only test
and he has to give his best
Today, an engineer near to his village
he writes and writes with courage....
Jun 22, 2018
Jun 22, 2018 at 7:08 AM UTC
These reactions are uncontrolled emotions programmed in me algorithms
running autonomously from my wakened head
passion is evolutionary running in my background
I try to reprogram but they run automatically
I tried to reboot but lost my windows key
and tried Task manager to end but
I don't have Administrative Privilege.
Feb 1, 2015
Feb 1, 2015 at 9:57 PM UTC
☺☻☺
This objective will not be accomplished
through a series of planned action-steps.
This outcome will not be a result
of selectively modifying best practices.
Results-based analysis will not help you.
This objective cannot be achieved
through collaboration with peers
or self-reflecting on past strategies.
There will be no PowerPoint, Prezi, or any other slide show
to unpack this metric.
The new paradigm is an old dead joke.
Outcomes are irrelevant to this objective.
This objective laughs at you
as it explodes in your data-driven bureaucratic face.
Go to hell and take this benchmark with you,
you piece of administrative irrelevance.
There are no more attainable objectives.
SEEK GOD and LIVE.
Apr 6, 2017
Apr 6, 2017 at 7:28 AM UTC
Julia, at her desk and on her telephone,
trapped in amber, an eye-open slumber.
The president shuffles past, talking quietly
with solemn men in muted storm cloud suits
and sunshined shoes. The board room fills
with tombstone grins, the bottom line
growing heavy, coming undone.
Julia, at her desk and staring at an
emerald fingernail reflection.
She's older now, the light dim.
She dreams of boulders,
of butchers, of bushy-haired
children running amuck
as the bottom line
bottoms out.
What do kids watch on Saturday mornings?
The president asks behind a closed door.
Kids today, someone says.
It wasn't this way when I was a kid, someone says.
I remember watching tv on Saturday mornings, someone says.
Julia, at her desk and covered in gasoline,
suspended in violent ideation as a motivational
quote hangs itself above her head.
About, aboard, above, we use to say in school,
the president says behind a closed door.
Dec 9, 2021
Dec 9, 2021 at 5:01 PM UTC
I called the University of Khartoum, Faculty of Administrative Sciences Last Year I am now 85 longitudinal burly Black Color
Jan 4, 2014
Jan 4, 2014 at 9:55 AM UTC
When someone leaves, what remains?
An “in memory of” on Facebook, a black-and-white profile picture, a last post with 360 likes, a music video
8 unread WhatsApp messages, 1 grey tick instead of 2 in a group chat
Nocturnal analysing of your social media accounts, finding truth in between your Instagram captions
Your last statement to the world, a peace emoji just above said music video
The question if this is what peace looked like for you
The question if it really was peaceful
The question what crossed your mind, 1 millisecond before the world before your eyes turned into a black void forever
The question when you thought about becoming a memory for the first time
The question when you thought about becoming a memory for the last time
The question where souls, if they exist, go when someone dies
The question what state of aggregation souls have
The question if you’re now air, soil or both
A cold shiver when I find the ad for your room, published 4 weeks ago. You were always looking ahead.
Your books and files meticulously arranged in one of the pictures, neat as a pin
The question how it must have had looked inside of you. Was it the chaos or were you tired of cleaning up? Did you have windows, could you see outside? When someone knocked, did you open? When did you realize the light switch? When did you decide to turn the lights off?
When someone leaves, what remains?
An empty room
Unread messages
People reacting with that crying emoji on all your posts
Memories
Things you’ve left undone
Anger, sympathy, maybe someday absolution
Anguish, fright
Thoughts about your family
Good reasons, bad reasons
Philosophy
Compassion
An obituary in the local newspaper
An iPhone with no battery
A voicemail leading directly into nothingness
An as good as new e-piano, only 5 weeks old
A rancid peace of butter in the back of your fridge
Administrative workload
An incomplete mission
Questions without answers.
Dec 18, 2020
Dec 18, 2020 at 3:47 PM UTC
The cleaning lady pushes her cart about
Among administrative whisperings
And teachers sneak out of in-service
For an electronic moment in the head
The cleaning lady pushes her cart about
Computers in their wireless conclave met 1
Exchange that hushed arcana passed through PEIMS 2
And sticky notes – they seem to reproduce
Youth is reduced to a computer printout
And
The cleaning lady pushes her cart about
1 cf. G. K. Chesterton’s “Elegy in a Country Churchyard”
2 The Public Education Information Management System (PEIMS) encompasses all data requested and received by TEA about public education, including student demographic and academic performance, personnel, financial, and organizational information. (https://tea.texas.gov/.../Data_Submission/PEIMS/PEIMS_-_Overview)
Jan 9, 2019
Jan 9, 2019 at 4:37 PM UTC
I watched "Judgment at Nuremberg" last
night, I have seen that film many times.
However, in light of our nation's current
chaotic political direction, that theme and
topic have taken on a new unsettling and
dire significance. The implied specter of
the term "National Socialism" is all too
ominous.
73 million people died or were murdered in
WWII when a nation of otherwise normal
rational people were ****** in by listening to
a homely, little possibly insane former German
army Corporal rant and rave their nation into
a frenzy of cultism, and "National Socialism".
Through lies and deceptions, Adolf ******
plunged the entire world into a chaotic and
destructive war.
I can't be the only one to see and be deeply
concerned by the undeniable significance and
similarities of our current parallel direction
towards a National Socialism agenda?
Inspired and led by the newly appointed wonky
cult of administrative dimwits and their newly
self-anointed unstable KING, that appear not
to give a **** about our laws, our Constitution
or any of us as individual free citizens.
Our US government watchdogs the Congress
and Senate seem to have lost their direction and
patriotism, grown spineless and mute under the
spell or fear of King Trump.
Wake up America!
We are headed in a very bad direction.
Mar 6, 2025
Mar 6, 2025 at 9:24 PM UTC