My Career as a Scribe

No longer do they ask I take minutes
In the committee meetings I attend.
I guess they did not like to begin its
Next meeting with the verses which I penned.

Or maybe ‘cause I left some motion out
When for a key word I could find no rhyme.
Reading of minutes preceded a shout
That how I record was a waste of time.

Now I sit and just quietly doodle,
While others take assiduous notes.
With luck I won’t even use my noodle,
And I can pay no attention to votes.

Dilemma of Assistance

To clean up a mess or just walk around
Is often the spot in which I am found.
Nobody can blame me for the snafu,
But I wonder if something I could do.

Too late to prevent what has happened here;
No sense to protest the path is not clear.
If I would go as I had intended,
Then the problem, it seems, must be mended.

But I could choose to divert another way
And use the muss to excuse my delay.
I was not invited to the disaster
And the detour around might be faster.

Why feel such guilt where no part I partook,
Or where perhaps my advice they forsook?
To cast a rope to those caught in chagrin
Is to risk the same fate and get pulled in.

Am I so noble to bear others’ danger
And to swap my comfort with a stranger?
Or so in need of praise to my glory
To rush to play hero in the story?

Must one accept responsibility
To respond because of ability?
Do I mistake Pride for proper Duty,
Or turn cheek for a kick in the booty?

Do you ask for my help free of all blame
When ‘til now you left me out of the game?
Or on the sidelines may I yet remain
And from all your problems simply abstain?

What's So Funny?

I could use a good laugh. Even a simple chuckle might be a start. But at the moment, the world around my workstation is humorless.

It's easy enough to say I am depressed. Or stressed. Or both. Things seem bad with a bunch of worse waiting around the corner.

My imaginary friends have noticed my mood and elected to keep their distance. No romps into fantasy lands with them in the near future seem likely. I am stuck in reality.

There are parts of reality that aren't so bad, but I am not visiting them either right now. No, I am sitting at work, looking at my past pass down the drain and a future view that only annoys me.

And everyone is so cheerful and confident about that future they selected. Or had selected for them. Everyone except me. Why should I be different? Why should I see the road ahead full of potholes while everyone else just sees a road to places they have never explored before? All roads are bumpy, they say.

I could use a good laugh. Or a good cry perhaps.

---

Save the Last Laugh for Me

tune: Save the Last Dance Fro Me

You can work
Every task with the app
That fell in your lap –
That’s where it slid.

You can run
Any reports on its menu
That it promised you
In its contract bid.

But, don’t forget who got you here
And in whose shadow you’re gonna be.
O DOC,
Save the last laugh for me, mmm.

Oh I know
PAS is old
And seemed so cold
You had to let it go.

Spec and shop
But beware off-the-shelf
Written to serve itself –
They’ll tell you “No”.

Oh, you’ll forget who got you here
And in whose shadow you’re gonna be.
O DOC,
Save the last laugh for me, mmm.

You must dance
Every dance they tell you
And do it as they do
In their own design.

When you ask
To do what has been,
It will make them grin –
To wishlist consign.

Maybe you’ll recall who got you here
And in whose shadow you’re gonna be.
O DOC,
Save the last laugh for me, mmm.

Legacy

When you tell the tale of my passing through,
Will only kind words be what is spoken?
Will you forget the times I frustrated you
With nit-picking obstinacy unbroken?

Will my help in building what you tore down
Be swept away with its demolition?
Will lasting memory be of my frown
And not of my skills as Data Magician?

I am tired now and would wish to rest
With the products of my past glories.
Though I sought to have always done my best,
You have gone elsewhere to hear new stories.

I cannot guide you on your chosen path,
But am I willing to tag on behind?
My years of service now but simple math
As to retirement I slowly grind.

For Future Schemes

(Tune: Auld Lang Syne)

Should old databases be forgot
And nevermore be seen?
Should old databases be forgot
For future schemes?

Chorus:
For future schemes, we dream,
For future schemes.
We’ll take those bold steps forward
For future schemes.

And surely you’ll have your app,
All is promised, it seems,
And we’ll complete our daily biz
With future schemes.

     Chorus

We long have run that old beast down
‘Til it busted at the seams.
But we’ve grown now only to fit
With future schemes.

     Chorus

They’ll carry over what they can
If it fits in their themes.
But not all history complies
With future schemes.

     Chorus

So, grab my hand and hold your nose
As we jump in the stream
That’ll take us to that hopeful land
Of future schemes.

The Municipal Office Party

The Policeman’s Carol

(Melody: It Came Upon A Midnight Clear)

If I could have one wish each year
To share with one and all.
It would be for a season clear
Of fights, from guns to brawl;
“Peace everyone, please walk away,
Leave, even in a huff.
But let us have calm on this day --
Non-violence is enough.”

Still I know laws will be broken,
I must yet go to work.
Angry, harsh words will be spoken --
There’ll always be some jerk.
But for one day, if not a week,
Hold your fury within;
We’ll not slap your proffered cheek
When on your heel you spin.

The world will ever have its strife
And chafe as heads collide.
We all want to live our safe life --
To each their faith abide.
You need not wish me Christmas cheer
Or Happy Hanukkah,
Or whatever you have at end of year,
Festivus or Kwanzaa.

Please find your way to allow peace
To visit everyone.
Let me patrol in silent ease
And never draw my gun.
And if my wish could come this once,
We all would feel some hope
That to believe doesn’t make a dunce --
In harmony, we can cope.

---

The Fireman’s Carol

(Melody: Up on the House Top)

Up on the rooftop, firemen climb,
To fight a fire caused by grime.
Down in the chimney are lots of flames --
There is no time for holiday games.

REFRAIN:
Creosote! Oh, no, no!
Creosote! Oh, no, no!
Check up the chimney, quick, quick, quick,
Each year before that lighter you click.

First goes the flue, inferno hot,
Oh, dear, here’s another spot;
It burns through the wall to your surprise
As you watch it spread before your eyes.

REFRAIN.

Next, the bedroom of Ma and Pa;
Burns all like it’s made of straw.
There go the drapes, clothes and the bed --
Hope you get out before you’re all dead.

REFRAIN

---

The Snowplow Driver’s Carol

(Melody: Let it Snow)

O, winter weather is at last coming
And soon my truck will be humming;
I’ll plow you a way to go --
Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow!

I hope it’s not soon stopping
So I can pay for my wife’s shopping;
My checkbook is running low --
Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow!

When we finally get a good dump
How I love to get out in my truck!
Your car is now a snowy lump,
But I will never get stuck.

The piles are steadily climbing
And I weary with overtiming
But as long as my truck will go --
Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow!

---

The School Teacher’s Carol

(Melody: O Little Town of Bethlehem)

In our town school’s gymnasium,
We met to say goodbye.
To home you’re gone on vacation --
I let out a big sigh.
Yet in my nightly dreams lurk
Your ever-grinning face,
The smiling masses of all the classes
Follow me every place.

For peace and rest I yearn,
To rewind my mind’s clock,
While parents weep for you to keep
Running amok in house and block.
O when the holidays end
And rings the school bell clear
And bus by bus on me you’re thrust,
I’ll hold you again dear.

But silently, please silently,
Let my break be my own!
Please leave my brain with no refrain
From life in the school zone.
No ear can hear you drumming,
Inside my poor brain pan,
But I still know that’s where you go,
To haunt my holiday plan.

O little child of our fair town
Go home for now and play.
Forget lessons and my questions --
There’ll be no test today.
We’ll sing our cheerful carols
And play our reindeer games,
But you at home, and me alone,
As the school board proclaims.

---

The Mayor Carol

(Melody: Joy to the World)

Joy to you all! The Mayor’s here;
Get the party in gear;
Let all employees raise up their beer,
And shout a mighty cheer,
And shout a mighty cheer,
And shout, and shout a mighty cheer.

Joy to you all! The Mayor serves;
Let votes decide who wins;
Let’s use some of the town’s reserves
To hire some violins,
To hire some violins,
To hire, to hire some violins.

He will spread the taxes to all,
To each department found;
He’ll fund every budget call
As far as it’ll go ‘round,
As far as it’ll go ‘round,
As far, as far as it’ll go ‘round.

He rules the town with charm and grace,
And shakes anyone’s hand,
With the twinkling smile on his face,
And arm twists from his band,
And arm twists from his band,
Arm twists, and arm twists from his band.

---

The Tax Payer & Tax Collector Duet

(Melody: Baby, It’s Cold Outside)

We really can’t pay --- Lady, it’s your fair share
You don’t hear what I say --- It’s not that I don’t care
This meeting has been --- My calculations you’ve seen
A waste of time --- Maybe I can save you a dime.

My mother turned off the heat --- You’ve two thousand square feet,
Father closed the second floor --- A garage through the kitchen door;
So this bill we just can’t meet --- Such a pretty little street.
Collectors knocking at the door --- I wouldn’t guess you’re so poor.

The neighbors will talk --- Lady, we’ll fix this thing
When at bills we balk --- With some extra tax filing;
I wish I knew how --- We’ll report your income now
To win the lottery --- And adjust for your poverty.

You’ve been so very nice --- I easily would do it twice
Your kindness I hope to repay --- Just goodbye and be on your way.
We are saved by law --- From deep pockets we draw
Others will pay that fair share.

I really could stay --- I was just doing my job
And my gratitude pay --- You’re making my head throb
For service oh so grand --- Please let go of my hand
That gave me peace --- Leave now or I’ll call the police.

What joy I will feel tomorrow --- What trouble did I borrow
With one less bill that’s still due --- In finding the way to help you
Now I won’t pay --- That’s what the laws say,
Others will pay that fair share,
Oh, others pay the fair share,
Yes, others pay our fair share.

Documentation Woes

Is it perhaps worse to say too much
Than to say hardly anything at all?
To spew great verbosity and such
Versus a trail of bread crumbs too small?

What truths will I hide buried so deep
When I ramble far beyond the point?
Who will know what are the facts to keep
When I scatter words all over the joint?

But when I cut the clue to a phrase,
Those few selected hints of meaning,
Whose understanding will I so faze
That its message is beyond gleaning?

There is a reason why it comes last,
If ever the manual is written.
It is not what gives coders a blast
Once with a problem, they are smitten.

Such drudgery not for them intended,
So the programmers will tell you all.
Hire English majors with words splendid
To capture the thoughts and you enthrall.

Counting Down to Contentment

Counting Down to Contentment

Although this moment may not be the best
And has more trouble to cast in your path,
There beckons ahead a break and a rest
Where you will flee soon from this daily wrath.

There's only three brushfires confronting you,
Stirred up by others, but now it's your job,
And a dozen to-dos you must still do
Before you can free yourself from the mob.

Or, maybe, what's worse, your list is all done,
And on idle duty, you just watch the clock.
Empty hours sit between you and your fun,
Passing slowly at the pace of a rock.

Awaiting the future is your pastime
As you slog through the present that is now.
That hope to arrive in a better clime
Adds wind pushing forward behind your prow.

Triskaidekaphobia

Triskaidekaphobia

The power to procrastinate has always been mine;
It is an ability, someday, I may refine.
But my worst fault is preparation far in advance
For answers waiting for somebody to ask to dance.

I wish not to be caught by surprise, at least not twice,
So I rework solutions, though the first did suffice.
I am ready, quicker, when you ask the same again,
Until rapid responses cause you instead to complain.

“How,” you ask, “can I keep up busy, working all day
If you will anticipate the questions ere I say?
You grumble of your idleness, making you so bored,
When it’s your own bag of tricks full stuffed with answers stored.”

If I could just learn to wait, puzzles would take a week.
And you could bustle elsewhere while your answers I seek.
I could lower your expectations, filling my days
With inefficient bumbling instead of my old ways.

Campfire Songs for the Retirement Roundup

Ghost Workers Whom We Hire

(to tune of: "Ghost Riders in the Sky")
An old employee went to work, the same as any day,
And while he settled at his desk, ready to earn his pay,
All at once on his screen arrived an ominous warning;
He was summoned to meet with H.R. later that morning.

Their files were very thick and they archived everything.
They smiled at him as he sat; it was cold and menacing.
Your work, they said, is excellent – we've noticed for some time –
We'd like to keep you with us yet 'though you are past your prime.

Yippie-yi-yay
Yippie-yi-ooh
Some folks ne'er get away.

As he looked 'round the room to see if they might be joking,
He saw the glint in their eyes and that their ears were smoking.
Piles of paper on the table, waiting for blood to sign,
A pledge forever more to vow, “My soul e'er shall be thine.”

We heard you say that you were worried about retirement,
What you could do to fill your days, after your employment.
So if you prefer here to stay to ever play our games,
We will make a place at our side in our eternal flames.

Yippie-yi-yay
Yippie-yi-ooh
Ghost workers whom we hire.
Ghost workers whom we hire.
Ghost workers whom we hire.

---

Don’t Throw Me Out

(to tune of: "Don't Fence Me In")
Oh, I have years, lots of years of experience to share
Don’t throw me out.
Let me work at my job nestled in my old chair
Don’t throw me out.
Let me come in each day and smell my mornin’ coffee
And listen to the news and swap tales with my posse.
Set me out to greet visitors in the lobby,
(but) Don’t throw me out.

Just wait a bit, do not cashier my old career
Underneath pensioning feet.
While here I sit, let me produce those facts obtuse
That I so oft do repeat.

I want to feel that my life still has some meaning,
As I near those retirement pastures greening;
I know to work’s end I am now careening
(but) Don’t throw me out.

Oh, give me time, just a bit more time to linger.
Don’t throw me out.
Let me find in my mind how to leave this wringer.
Don’t throw me out.
Let me be my old self ‘til I plan another
And enjoy what has been before the next other,
Or let me train my own replacement if you’d rather
(but) Don’t throw me out.

Just four more years, in your employ me to deploy
Wherever I can help out.
To ease my fears, let me fulfill with my tried skill
‘Til this job I can do without.

I want to roam someday in that slower pasture
And sleep until noon with no disaster,
But I have many leisure skills yet to master
(so, please) Don’t throw me out.

---

On The Off Ramp

(To tune of: "On the Road Again" (Willie Nelson version))
On the ramp at last -
Time is coming to exit from my jobs past,
That life I live working to do my daily tasks
And I can see approaching its end so fast.
On the ramp at last.

Doing things that I've been asked,
So many things that may be later trashed.

O, I'll need to say goodbye to work amassed.
On the ramp at last -
Like a load of bricks, they built my self image,
They filled my day's glass,
Giving me the reasons to join the scrimmage.

That's the way
To the off ramp at last.
Say farewell to all those whose path I crossed
In the life I worked doing my daily tasks

And leave directions to all the chores I pass
From the ramp at last.
Like a trail of breadcrumbs to lead them to the clue
Through my notes so vast
Hoping they can find what, without me, to do

That's the way
To the off ramp at last.
Just can't stay fore'er in the happy past --
The life I will live is coming near at last

And I need to get ready, so very fast -
Now that I have reached the ramp at last.

---

Get Along Little Dougie

(To tune of: "Get Along, Little Dogie" )
Whoopee-ti-yi-yo, get along, little Dougie;
It's your retirement to face on your own.
Whoopee-ti-yi-yo, get along, little Dougie;
You know that it's time for you to head home.

Your parents did raise you to work for your living,
And you try to do so, if ne'er too hard.
While we appreciate the effort you're giving,
We are still all signing the farewell card.

Whoopee-ti-yi-yo, move along, little Dougie;
It's your retirement to face on your own.
Whoopee-ti-yi-yo, move along, little Dougie;
You know that it's time for you to stay home.

Some folks join the old rat race for security
That's where they get it most awfully wrong.
You can run 'round the track well past maturity,
But there comes a time when you should be gone.

Whoopee-ti-yi-yo, move over, little Dougie;
You made your fortune, if ever you will.
Whoopee-ti-yi-yo, move over, little Dougie;
Leave so we'll have a position to fill.

---

O, My Old Job

(to tune of: "O, Shenandoah")

O, my old job, I'm bound to leave you.
I must leave forever.
O, my old job, I'm goin' to miss you.
Away, I'm bound away
To future mystery.

O, my old job, I'd loved my career.
I must leave forever.
O, my old job, beware what is dear.
Away, I'm bound away
To future mystery.

O, my old job, I planned to retire.
I must leave forever.
O, my old job, ne'er thought it so dire.
Away, I'm bound away
To future mystery.

O, my old job, you're always with me.
I must leave forever.
O, my old job, wherever I'll be.
Away, I'm bound away
To future mystery.

---

Sippy Cocktail Straws

(to tune of: "Tumbling Tumbleweeds")

Look at them rushing around,
Treading water, not to drown,
While at poolside I'll be found,
Sipping mai tais with my sippy cocktail straw.

Cares of the past are behind,
As I peacefully unwind –
Fixes are for others to find.
Sipping mai tais with my sippy cocktail straw.

I knew it was time to leave,
Time for my work's reprieve.

I will just rest right here
Now that I am off that tier,
No troubles to ever hear,
Sipping mai tais with my sippy cocktail straw.

I knew it was time to leave,
Time for my work's reprieve.

I will just rest right here
Now that I am off that tier,
No troubles to ever hear,
Sipping mai tais with my sippy cocktail straw.

Office Haiku

Office Haiku

Breathe in the coffee

Await the computer’s boot

Eight more hours to go

=+=+=

In the cubicle

Many to hear and be heard

Solitude sacred

=+=+=

Breakroom aroma

Peppered with gossip for zest

Thought for food today

=+=+=

Commute across ice

Adrenal flushed at my desk

Rest for return home

=+=+=

The Mission Statement

The Mission Statement

Gentlemen. Ladies. Thank you for coming. If you could all please take your seats, we can get started with today’s business.

In order for an organization to coordinate its actions, the communication of a Mission Statement to everyone, in and out of the organization, has been deemed very important. We need everyone on the same page, sharing expectations and direction. Therefore, at our meeting last week, we set today’s agenda to the creation of the Conundrum’s Mission Statement. We need to state who we are, what we intend to achieve, and the principles which will guide us to our goals.

Mr. Chairman, if I may submit this first draft for discussion:

“Conundrum Rules!”

Yes, thank you, Mr. Latimer. An excellent slogan. Perhaps a bit too terse to convey the full message, but a simple, easily understood summary. Our thanks to you folks in Advertising for getting the ball rolling.

Mr. Chairman, we are a secret organization, n'est pas?  The advertising it is outside our purpose.

Well, perhaps, Mlle Laflame, but much of the power of a secret is in people knowing the secret exists without knowing what the secret is. But you raise a good point in defining who we are and how we prefer to work with undetected but effective subtlety. Can somebody offer some phrasing to capture both Mr. Latimer’s and Mlle Laflame’s ideas?

Perhaps:

“Conundrum controls the economy through subterfuge.”

Thank you, Mr. Tao. More discussion?

Yes. Trickery alone sometimes does not get the job done, Mr. Chairman. We need to include some more strong-armed means in that statement. The Tactics Division suggests “by subterfuge, sabotage, and suppression.”

Ah, if we may also add. While wealth may be largely concerned with the economy, our business has other important dealing in people’s lives. International Affairs Division seeks to exploit the cultural rifts for opportunities to gain power and influence, often long before any actual capitalization of the advantage can be realized.

Ja, and let us not forget the resources in the physical world that we need to possess, develop, and deliver. Logistics and Engineering support the insertion of “environment” amongst the targeted elements.

Yes, thank you all. So we now have:

“Conundrum controls the economy, culture, and environment through subterfuge, sabotage, and suppression.”

Legal here. The word “controls” seems unfocused. Mr. Tkazal in International uses a much stronger word in explaining the process of locating and developing advantages – exploit. The implication of the purpose in whatever manipulations we may undertake is much clearer.

Mr. Chairman, I believe we also have neglected to state what is the underlying purpose and value to be achieved in our action. Who will benefit? What will that benefit be?

Very good point. Anyone?

Well, us, of course. With money and power to do whatever we want. Ba-ha-ha, so to speak.

Lacks specificity, but does provide flexibility for future expansion.

Y’know, youse guys (and gals) at the top of this pile needs to remember us in the ditches too. We ain’t getting all the money and power to do whatever we wants, but we’s part Conundrum’s success too. A little Conundrum applied grease to ease our way through them problem moments makes it worthwhile for us whilst we waits for ours bigger things to come.

Mr. Fingers, thank you for that reminder. An enterprise of our nature does not rest on plans and schemes alone without the staff to execute the necessary actions. Our mission must include the inspiration to recruit, reward, retain, and even advance our deserving minions.

Sir, Human Resources would like to propose the following addition.

“Conundrum strives to maximize its wealth, power, and influence to ensure the comfort and freedom of action of its officers, employees, and friends. All others are either obstacles or resources to be harvested.”

Oh, my, yes, Mrs. Gruber, that will certainly give staff and associates the understanding and incentive to be on the right side of that distinction. Might the Chair suggest we further qualified the “employees” with the term “loyal” to establish a properly elevated expectation of full-hearted participation in order to gain the benefits?

Is there any more discussion? All right then, the Conundrum Mission Statement shall be:

“Conundrum exploits the economy, culture, and environment through subterfuge, sabotage, and suppression. Conundrum strives to maximize its wealth, power, and influence to ensure the comfort and freedom of action of its officers, loyal employees, and friends. All others are either obstacles or resources to be harvested.”

As this statement meets with everyone’s satisfaction, Number Two, will you please see to its publication and distribution? Meeting adjourned. Go find us some more money, power, or whatever, everyone. That is your mission.

Office Ruba'iyat

Office Ruba'iyat

(verses I-XXI)

I

Boot! For the coffee to drive sleep away

Brews in ritual to prepare the day;

‘Tis time to resume the suspended tasks,

Ne’er finished from the piles of yesterday.

II

Before the workday alarm sounded again,

While drowsing in bed where I still was lain,

I thought of why to rise from comfort there

And to commute to earn my daily grain.

III

And, as that electronic Cock did crow,

By worn habit, I made ready to go

In routines honed by the repetition

That mindless muscles and creaking joints know.

IV

Now the New Day begins same as the last,

Indistinctly from all those which have passed;

Years and decades trodden on this known path

To where my career deeds have been amassed.

V

Some indeed have gone, not to return there,

With new ones to fill the desks they left bare.

Their duties remain and reports are due,

Now the jobs for the next promoted heir.

VI

And, old and new, arrives each employee

Piping out their cries of “Coffee! Coffee!

Hot coffee!” – black, sweet, creamy and/or both –

They yearn for the roasted fruit of the tree.

VII

Come, fill the Cup, and let the labor start.

Delve for that data and fill up that chart.

The timeclock is ticking once I punch in

And there are hours to go ere I depart.

VIII

Whether a mocha or a hazelnut treat,

With creamer for white and crystals for sweet,

The elixir soon does its morning trick

And today’s monotony I can meet.

IX

Each Morn a thousand chores brings, they say;

Nine hundred three done by the end of day

With more atop my backlog to ignore

Until the next thousand add to the fray.

X

Well, let them lay there! What more can I do?

This darn computer is as slow as glue

And soon ad hoc requests will be forgot

To pass unanswered from the turmoil’s view.

XI

With me nestled in cubicle alone

Armed with a steaming mugful of my own,

I build the tome to tell each year’s tale

From what data is recorded and known.

XII

A Book of Facts and Figures should suffice

To get the answers and support advice

As we through the Wilderness forge our way;

Authorized truth, if not Paradise!

XIII

Some work for the now in this World; and some

Await promised Retirement to come;

Ah, but to take my paycheck, less the tax,

And worry not of a future too glum.

XIV

Look to cycling Nature upon her wheel,

Pedaling against Time’s persistent peal.

Nothing started but that it pauses and stops,

To restart from leftovers of the last meal.

XV

And those who composed the latest report,

That, if read, has a useful life so short,

Must soon return to the traveled treadmill

To produce the update of the same sort.

XVI

The dreams of careers from our bygone youth

Wither away – or not; that is the truth.

Whatever we do as our lives grow longer

Has power to disappoint or to soothe.

XVII

Think, in these environs repetitious

Whose clockwork ever grinds so pernicious,

How the lowest and the highest both pass

With no regards to how much ambitious.

XVIII

They say the State Library there still keeps

The copies of old reports in their heaps.

And those archives will chronicle forever

Our works long after our eternal sleeps.

XIX

I sometimes think nothing arises so fresh

That beneath it we could not find some flesh

Of another who planted seed long ago

Whose work then with that now did so enmesh.

XX

And for this not-so-novel, there is due

More credit to the past than to the new.

So though you gather acclaim for it all,

Expect the next author will forget you.

XXI

Ah, fill my Cup again and back to work.

No eternity not reason to shirk

That which I can do here and now despite

Wherever it goes in tomorrow’s murk

Sisyphus at Work

Sisyphus at Work

Upon the rocky country slope,

I met with Sisyphus on his descent.

How can he so endlessly cope

With the unfulfillment of his torment?

He is not now a pleasant man

And it is likely he never was one.

There is naught in his present plan

To give value to anything he has done.

“This is a punishment, you fool;

One of the Gods' little allegories.

It is pointless not to be cruel

When squeezing lessons into life's stories.

“You want a triumph in this task

To earn some reverse of its purposed aim.

To cast me in the hero's mask,

Who will not be overcome by the Gods' game.

“Forget your useless optimism

And your attempt to retell my doomed fate.

Eternal hope is mere dogmatism,

Unreality in a perfumed state.

“Do you think I could this refuse?

To sit down here not to resume again?

To allow my body to snooze

And from my destined labors to abstain?

“I do not work for joy nor fear,

Not from any choice that I can command.

My muscles never volunteer,

But dance on strings pulled by an unseen hand.

“In life, I schemed to get my way,

To always be the one at the control.

Twice I met Death with tricks to play,

And I would break any rule to reach my goal.

“And now, helpless, I watch this show

In which I am the only performer.

Without end, up and down I go.

Was ever a hell made any warmer?”

Sisyphus resets in his world

And lays his shoulder to boulder anew.

His task is not in fact absurd,

But the planned worthlessness that is his due.

Do not find yourself in his shoes

When your boring job yields little success.

He repays those he did abuse

With a mighty hubris much in excess.

Week-o!

Week-o!

Out-ho, out-ho,
  Weekend come and me outta here.
Out, me shout out, me shout out, me shout out, me shout out-ho.
  Weekend come and me outta here.

Work all week and Friday come!
  Ho, ho, hum, in office doldrum.
Have no sight of noontime sun!
  Ho, ho, hum, in office doldrum.

Punch me clock so me can go.
  Yo, ho, ho and a bottle of rum.
Me got wild oats to sow.
  Yo, ho, ho and a bottle of rum.

Dream me hammock out there hung.
  Oh, oh, oh, the weekend's fun.
'Laxing me bod out in the sun.
  Oh, oh, oh, the weekend's fun.

Out-ho, out-ho,
  Weekend come and me outta here.
Out, me shout out, me shout out, me shout out, me shout out-ho,
  Weekend come and me outta here.

She do call, c'mere, hon!
  Uh, oh, oh, the fun is done.
Got weekend chores to be run.
  Uh, oh, oh, the fun is done.

Work both days in broiling sun.
  Mow, mow, mow, the grass' so long.
Muscles cooked until well done.
  Mow, mow, mow, the grass' so long.


Out-ho, out-ho,
  Weekend done and me outta here.
Out, me shout out, me shout out, me shout out, me shout out-ho.
  Weekend done, me want outta here.