Personell

There’s a personnel center, somewhere in America, I don’t know where, but it’s there.
Inside, Keys Click, wrappers crunch, lips sip, following the script.
Insipid. Designed to exist in a box and mind this list of tasks
Word for word the work is dispersed, procedure and policy
Polished in simplicity, A to B to C to D, it’s no longer prerequisite
To be a sentient being, much like machines, man-made to stand
Resisting the fall, Pillars and walls, desktops and screens,
Pictures of familiar faces decorate each personal space.
Little variation, exceptions for the carpets and coffee mugs
A clash of shapes and colors, most gaudy. Still the
Pillars and walls stay, supporting the structure, connecting
A grounded foundation As tall as you’ve worked to erect, and if done correctly,
The sky is your setting; sitting ascended, splendid in bidding
No glass ceiling.
The walls enclose on those within. No more horizon or starlight sky,
Not for the time being…
There’s a personnel center, scripted in America, tucked between
Neighboring Small Businesses, in a strip mall of cubicle bearing walls,
Windows no bigger than computer screens. Physically open spaces, caved in.
Train (of thought) Tracks for these sapien to latch to, they follow that
Path, Polished, Pristine. No Alarms. No Surprises. Welcome
To the intelligent design.

Corporate Monotony

White lights, undilated pupils, anxiety and hate.
Submission. Slight spikes in credit every Friday
12:00 A.M. – Plastic keycard, Magnetic strip.
White light, undilated pupils, Anxiety and hate.
Stagnance. Split screens 23 inch monoliths
Information of this century. Shines. Glare.
Eyes in a blank stare. Mind- Where did you go?
Into those
White lights? Undilated pupils reverberate.
A quick rub, my hands shake.
Anxiety and hate.