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Ashwin Kumar Mar 2019
Every day, as the clock strikes ten
You march into the office
Swinging your arms back and forth
In a crude imitation of Herr ******
As the eyes of every employee
Focus on your cold, black ones
As if by magic
A deafening silence fills the office
As Hope turns into Despair
Trust turns into Betrayal
Confidence turns into Insecurities
Love turns into Hate
And Peace turns into Pieces

As your ringing voice fills the air
Resulting in a cacophony
Louder than those infernal firecrackers
Everybody's worst nightmare comes true
As you yell at your team
Mocking all their painstaking efforts
Dehumanizing them with casteist remarks
Your voice cuts into their feelings
Like a knife through butter
Leaving wounds so deep
That the scars shine brightly
For the rest of their lives

You are not an employer
You are a cruel, sadistic tyrant
Hiding behind the facade
Of a concerned maternal figure
However, as with all tyrants
The day will eventually arrive
When you are toppled
From your lofty throne
Your business will sink
Just as the Titanic did
You will be in huge debt
Your ill-gotten gains evaporating into thin air
As your erstwhile employees have their last laugh
It is you, who will be left
With wounds so deep
That the scars shine brightly
For the rest of your miserable life
A poem to my best friend's tyrannical boss. Note: I have taken a bit of inspiration from J.K.Rowling, the author of Harry Potter.
Ashwin Kumar Feb 2019
Two years of toil
Two years of utmost dedication
Two years of perseverance
Where are the fruits?

As every month begins
My eyes light up
In keen anticipation
That my efforts would be rewarded
However, the wait is so long
That it kills me from within
As I wonder whether my time is valued
For you, time is precious
You expect quality and speed
At the same time
Is it wrong
For me, to expect the same
From your side?
However, all I end up doing
Is keeping a straight face
While I listen to your lame excuses
As I wonder whether my time is valued
Whether my efforts are valued
Whether it is worth
Burning the midnight oil
For an employer
To whom I matter
Only when money chases him
The same money
Which I am denied
Again and again
Till I am a fool
To even dream
That my dues would be cleared
Poem I am writing as my workplace frustrations come to a head...for the umpteenth time!!
Shannon Spivey Oct 2018
It was February on a Tuesday
There was pizza in the break room
I kept my distance behind you
Before realizing there was more than food to consume
You turned around and saw me
You nudged me over saying “get in here”
I guess I never saw you like that before
I was stunned as it all became so clear
I think we had a moment
As you looked me in the eyes
While I drowned there in your ocean
I was feeling so surprised
I think you experienced that with me
Because things started to change
You came around more often
I couldn’t stop thinking your name
I was unsure if it was mutual
Then you walked right through the door
And I think we froze in another moment
That left me wanting more
One day I took the elevator
You went to take the stairs
Then you saw where I was going
And you followed me in there
We stood there in silence
I kept looking at you
Then you broke it with conversation
Of things I already knew
You told me you went on a company trip
I saw you leave that day
You briefly talked about it
And I told you I’d be at the one in May
Things were so simple then
At least I wanted them to be
I don’t think that you knew
But I was getting married
Then one day your demeanor changed
I thought that maybe you knew
And days later my telephone rang
And it was a personal call for you
They were following up on paperwork
For you and for your wife
I shook to those words
As it pierced me like a knife
I had to call you
You must have seen the caller ID
Because your voice stuttered when you answered
But I tried to stay as composed as I could be
I transferred you the call
Then I sat there in confusion
I never looked for a ring
Was all of this just an illusion
I questioned my engagement
But you’re already committed
To the girl you promised a future
I just need to stay acquitted
I couldn’t sleep at night
I was tossing and I was turning
While I laid there next to him
But I knew my heart was yearning
I didn’t know how to react
Was this an indication that my feet were cold
Or was I carrying around this guilt
Because my relationship grew old
I didn’t know how to be around you
When we’d pass we’d look away
The flame was turning frigid
Everytime we unintentionally met in the hallway
I tried to let this fade out
I wanted to find an end
But I’d see you around in passing
And this situation was too much to comprehend
Maybe I wanted more
I don’t know what I was thinking
These feelings kept adding up
With thoughts of interlinking
You’d ignore me some days
And act friendly the rest
And the more this went on
The more I suppressed
I wanted to know everything
But I couldn’t find you
You had no presence online
Of things you were tied to
But I did find one thing
A band you were in
So I went through your music
And played “Mission Accomplished” again
That was all I could find
And I left it that way
As we continued in awkward encounters
That moved along the days
As months began to pass
These feelings remained
But no words left our lips
And no feelings explained
Then the inevitable happened
You took a vacation
I thought I could move on
If there was no temptation
But that’s not how it worked
You remained on my mind
With all these things I presumed
That had been left undefined
When you walked back through the doors
I didn’t know what to do
I lost all control
I was not ready to see you
Then came our work party
We were at the end of the year
When you walked in with your wife
I wanted to disappear
I drowned myself in a drink
Or maybe it was more
And when my fiancé left halfway through
I felt nothing but deplore
I couldn’t stop drinking
I’d never seen your wife
But I was facing you
And lost in my own strife
Later I stumbled towards your table
And I saw that you were gone
I was a drunk mess
Who needed to move on
Then it happened again
You went on vacation
And I found something else
To focus my fixation
But it was gone simultaneously
With when you returned
I just couldn’t escape you
Why hadn’t I learned
But this time felt different
You wanted to talk to me
But our conversation had a cost
That we both could foresee
And we both knew the price
Which is perhaps why you changed
Because you went back to ignoring me
I felt so deranged
And here we are now
We’re one year through
I’ve written my story
Now what should I do?
02/01/2018
Bobby Dodds Sep 2018
Isolation within my mind,
Stuck in my kell, gasping at the heat
Working till death to finish my design,
Running late, borderlines to meet.
A hero of management,
An Hr call left at the tone.
Stuck in my cubicle fortress.
The place I'm forced to call home.
I don't wanna be stuck in the loop of the cubicle slaughterhouses.
Ashwin Kumar Jul 2018
The wait has been long
Two weeks and counting
As everyday passes
You tell yourself to be patient
And do your work calmly
As though everything is all right
As the minutes turn to hours
Hours turn to days
And days turn to weeks
But still nothing happens
No message from your bank
No credit added to your account
Same old excuses given
Your resolve can no longer hold
Your steely focus falters
You make mistakes
That you would not have made
Even in your wildest dreams
Every hurdle looks insurmountable
The commute to office
Suddenly seems like a marathon
You lash out at strangers
Over matters as mundane
As your typing speed
At home, you drown yourself
In Agatha Christie's finest ****** mysteries
Forgetting that you have to sleep
Just reading and reading
To escape from the mad world around you
Till your eye muscles scream in protest
You clench your fists
Flex your muscles
And sharpen your teeth
As the devil awakens inside you
Ready to pounce on your master
And seek divine retribution
For making you wait so long
And denying you
What is rightfully yours
Fairly self-explanatory!
Derek David Apr 2018
Salesmen have
That awful
Salesman laugh
Not earned
Not funny
Not buying.
Love, laughter
Life's rules
Self taught
Trust that
One breaks.
Christina Hale Apr 2018
Every day that I'm here I feel like going home and killing myself
But when I'm home I'm fine again
Every day that I'm here I feel like going home and killing myself
But when I'm home I'm fine again

Every day I awake to the endless feeling of emptiness
And then I go to a place where there are walls without windows
People without souls
And money is everything
It's kind of hard to breathe here between the endless clouds of smoke and the kindness and integrity in which the people lack
In an environment where everyone blends as one
I stand out
It's not because I'm neither a smoker nor an unempathetic ****
But it's a little something called individuality
Individuality so transparent that people try to verbally, emotionally attack me, break me down
It seems to be working
Because when I'm in this place I'm like a zombie, I try to drain my emotions to blend in
But I still stand out even with my undeniable anger, presumable sarcasm, and ****** up hair
And I walk in a straight line when I walk, waiting to bump anyone, so tired of people invading my space walking by
Sick of people after greeting them not saying hi
Is it so ******* hard to have manners
What's a matter
Speak, nod, say something
I'm under the assumption
That I'm the only one in here
That is aware
Of what's going on around here
In this place
These people are of ******* waste
No manners, morals, or integrity
I better depart while I still possess mine
Though it's the manners I lack
But who needs that when you're always under attack

Every day that I'm here I feel like going home and killing myself
But when I'm home I'm fine again
neth jones Oct 2017
shaping my fevered brain
and solidifying stubborn my crooked thinking
i conceal myself in the scenery
of the workplace

i present as a model of honesty
i appear, 'above board'
as i manoeuvre amoungst my fellows ;
ailing employees and absurdities

there is weak will here
it makes them worth reforming
worth salvaging

it is a dream to me
there is a knack to this ;
a study of quality
whereby i may refine my own illness
and take up good work
in company
Miriam Marcus Jul 2017
I'm having fun playing dead while I'm keeping my head straight.
Is that hilarious or what? What's funny, is I'd rise for the right hurt.
You've detached yourself, though. Your words sound like grey sleep
within the walls I repaint, day after day when I wake, with the color
you turn away yet still absorb, like there's no short supply. My brain
works for crackers and runs on want that's begun drying.
I'm getting tired of the people I work with. They have it all together. And meanwhile. I just need to **** it up. There are things worse in life than loneliness, way ******* worse.
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