"understaffed" poems
Aileen was not mean.
She moved with all speed, but always did heed
Her patient’s queries and calmed all her worries
Though quite understaffed, performing her craft,
She left smiles of great cheer, and grins, ear-to-ear.
May her vacation have shouts of elation.
And her energy never seek to evade her.
Apr 8, 2019
Apr 8, 2019 at 7:30 AM UTC
So you want me to work late again,
because you're understaffed.
Yet everyone else in this place,
is sat upon their ***
I work twice as hard as everyone,
while they just coast along.
Yet you come to me each weekend,
and sing me the same song.
You say its because I'm good,
which I guess makes the others bad
You try and stroke my ego
do you think that I'm that sad
Well sorry boss but I got plans
so no can do this time
Perhaps you can get one of them
to tow the company line.
Of course they do not want to
what made you think they would
They don't have to give their weekend up
but for some reason I should?
Well like I said I'm busy
got me some stuff to do
Dont worry, while I'm at the beach
I'll be thinkin' of you.
May 4, 2010
May 4, 2010 at 1:20 PM UTC
How often
Have they tried
To make up
Our minds?
Ironed our options
Steamed our opinions
And sewed on
A few missing buttons
Onto our threadbare perceptions.
Some of us
have escaped
Their tender mercies.
By taking on the vocation
Of an under- stuffed scarecrows.
What do we know
About The mechanics
The inerrancies of glitter .
The creaky sanction
Below our thoughts.
But whatever
Dark ceremonies
They plan
With the diagrams
Of dances
On hearth of our stone hearts.
The chicken , the robot
The winter dragon boogie…
They may miss
Subtracting the soul
From the bell curve.
Their imagination is understaffed
And the augury of their footsteps
Need a certain dark polish.
No matter our the spelling
Of our zany misshapen alphabets.
There are always a few
Crows to stalk the stanzas
The script of the Fields
We guard in our slumber
As our garments
Burn
In sun’s morning duty.
Adversaries ready to steal
With dark feathers
The plump opportunities
The fruit from
The green leafy lines
Of our unicorn free fountains.
Jun 20, 2014
Jun 20, 2014 at 11:38 PM UTC
The light seems ***** second hand
Yet scores his eye with a purple brand
With no more ears to fall upon
Unheard is the voice of the hopeless one
Certainty replaced by doubt
His words are vacant, hollowed out
And cynical his lexicon
With a tarnished soul, the hopeless one
Hemoglobin understaffed
The blood bank in its overdraft
Prescription fed automaton
A neutral mask for the hopeless one
Jul 5, 2016
Jul 5, 2016 at 5:08 PM UTC
I find it hard to believe it
but I'm an emotional paraplegic
no feeling from the neck down
I would only think
never crack a smile or a frown
locked my emotions in the closet
while I let my thoughts go to town.
I'm entering a phase of restoration
having more than physical sensation
when I engage in ************
before I was an illegal assembly line
but now these feelings are real and these feelings are mine
I was severely understaffed and had to discontinue the emotion station
but now my internal economy is fixed and I'm getting slave labor from underage Haitians.
Sep 9, 2015
Sep 9, 2015 at 8:32 PM UTC