Short Cubicle Poems

I need to stay
In a love cubicle, and
Excitingly write
Love's innermost recesses
Where passion, joy and love rules!...

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There once was a boss who was bald
yet thought himself stoutly ribald.
The dweebs who worked for him
were hairy and liked gin.
Was not news to hear that boss falled....

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Sitting on our butts day after day is not enjoyable; it is a living hell with pure soreness.
Disappointed because we don’t stand.
Curse to the cubicle islands.
Marx was right....

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that bank teller in her glass cubicle,

             pretty mermaid in a submersible,

        gives you that vague feeling underwater

   that divers with checks would swim about her,

               never minding watery obstacle,

           bank clients' delight, lovely spectacle!...

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Exodus in the dark: golden lioness stands
a tawny, brilliant edifice 
She is Chernobyl raising the doves.

Stone kamikaze follow me: into the fire:
my war. Tariff on my mother
Cubicle squares another suicide.

Do what you must, but reality
A misunderstood turn of phrase;
The inferno within us all....

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Towers of Bees

Over the city forest trees
Are hives of bees buzzing
In cubicle stacked towers with plastic flowers,
They labor for no honey, but money.

At an approximate five they fly
For they must eat and fill cool sheets,
To dream of bowers of sweet scented flowers,
When a cubicle is their own – their home...

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I am no longer in the meditation cubicle
It is raining in the lame field of the heart
The fugitive sunshine of the dry summer is smiling
News of death in the infatuated smells of fruit
Not a sick body, however
This mind has now become terribly frightened
As a slave to the earthly miraculous news!


24.06.2020 Chattogram...

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Gray cube
Gray shoes
Gray faces

A Colorless existence
Full of ugliness
Full of regret

Except for her
With blue eyes
So bright
they hurts to look at
with a eyes so bright
It hurts to hope

A glimpse of something beautiful
A glimpse of something unattainable
In a gray world 
It's only her 
Whose color makes life worth living...

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Every day is bring you daughter to work day
When you don't have daycare 
and its the graveyard shift at BigToys

I go to see his cubicle where he made models 
of playgrounds I might get to play on one day
He rescued me and put me in a warehouse

Atop a pile of rubber covered chains he said
I was important, take these chains 
and try to see if they will bend...

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Add colour to a bunch of expensive waste, Its still rubbish
to rescue a prey from its determined predator create an exit
in one cubicle is a hungry snake and a well nurtured fish
to suggest fairness in this scene, we stubbornly close it
one is feasted upon for another to have a nice dish
yet for political correctness we look away to the opposite.
...

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Psicologia 
Grazie per psicologia, signor Wundt
Tu! Intelligente
The field opens our minds to make us realize so much
Manual boring tasks make no sense
Corps constantly talk about research
Bu they are full of false correlational fico matter 
Psicologia helps us realize that the cubicle is annoiso
Without knowledge one cannot succeed
Grazie signor(dottore) Wundt...

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Square I am a nerd of word
I have nil problem with this,
Talk to my fellow peers and
They will verify which exists,
I live inside this cube of fear
With pen and paper in hand
The cubicle is my sanctuary
Such a remote distant  land,
Open area you can see me,
Without needing to look afar
Am who I am a square nerd
A solid existing shining star

© Stacy Lynn Stiles...

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I wish the world was made of cubes,
Four flat sides and a top ~
For I cant stand the slippy things,
That tend to slide or flop.
From piles of paper falling down 
Upon my dirty floor ~
To odd shaped bottles and fans I have,
Like one gigantic junk drawer.
But if the world was made of cubes
sitting in neat stacks ~
Then things would not fall over things
And this place wouldn‘t look like crap....

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severed passion bleeding
mystic mucus. Brooding
punctured passion pruning
sour sorrow's verses.
Torn tainted translation
met smothered elation

void, castrated cubicle
damped by debacles;
lofty lust's oracle

callous hoisted heat
slew per licking
moistened mystical memories

felony familiar eyes
feign vile vice.
19:11:27:13:50

Note: Inspired by Thomas Hardy's "A Broken Appointment"...

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A quiet day at the office with
too much timr to think.
Electronic distractions are not enough today.

But don't break character in your cubicle...
Put on your game face and look busy.

Big smile
Eyes do not well up. Nothing worse than runny mascara.
No sniffling allowed
Or heavy sighs

Wishing  for a managerial  disaster.

Not for the overtime in the paycheck, 
But for the undertime at home...

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A supervisor led me to a cubicle

among a maze of others.

I was given a computer

displaying columns of numbers.


All I had to do was move the figures

from one column to another.



I soon ran out of things to do.

I watched cat videos.

I asked for guidance.


I wanted to know

what I was doing and why?


When I said that

I will never forget the look of terror

on their faces....

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Ultimately, it's a matter of seasons,
waiting for dawn. 
Through the skylight, 
tiny as it is, 
my hope resides.
It's a glimpse of the hope I eagerly yearn to meet from my room.

I've longed to find belonging, 
pondered and wondered, 
if I was meant to have no solace. 
The doors are shut, 
and I'm enclosed in the cubicle.
Yet, as the skylight on the roof keeps shining, 
so does my hope for tomorrow....

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Tears are knocking at my eyes door
shut tight more and more
The knock is now harder, stronger
I can't deny them access anylonger
I will open and flood
the world with tears of blood

I'm quarantined in dark cubicle
Turning around in mighty circles
Lovely birds singing
Nice bells ringing
Beautiful butterflies swarming
Smiling sun warming
Outside my enclosure
All of these pleasures
sour to my dying senses...

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Gift of the fathers
Stand before others
Hands of the mothers
Hold us together
Ten story oddity
Steel shelled monstrosity
Like organs dwell
Cubicle cell
The nervous system
Organic hell
Paper blood
A computer god
Timeless toil
Ignorant clock
Its not life
It’s your job
War is waged
A profitable crusade
Overtime, time saved
An epic escapade
Dig holes, deep as graves
Line your coffins
With dollars paid...

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What is life for me?
Which is an absurd journey for me,
From cradle to cubicle to casket,
I know that i am in utter slavery,
I am the pied piper of mine,
When my emotions are floating  like a bubble,
And waiting for the drizzle to get it crashed,
Then i would like to fly away from,
My slavery to the unknown temple of pilgrimage,
Like the phoenix bird rose up from the ash,
And flown away to the freedom of ecstasy....

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My bed, my beautiful perfectly cubicle unusual bed, 
the one place I can sleep forever, without being dead, 
iv'e had dreams, seen ultra light beams and red in
this bed, oh this lovely, comfy non bumpy of a bed,
almost touching the wall, my legs, on pillows, my head,
rest where the bearer of bad news isn't fed, hibernation 
for me instead, I can sleep right here, right now in
My bed, my beautiful perfectly cubicle unusual bed....

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My alarm hit me like a ton of bricks.
I had to play life's game of pick-up sticks.
I leapt up to put on my working clothes.
There was no time to doze.

Dashing about, I did, like a bat from Hell
to arrive on time to my cubicle cell,
wondering if I might get very far.
I left my brain inside a jar.

My boss looked at me somewhat askance,
my underwear misplaced outside my pants,
"Today, as my performance you appraise,
I think it's time for a raise'"....

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How
dare you
peek inside
a gamer’s den!
A realm where magic
and weapons fight dragons.
A high-tech cubicle where
virtual reality reigns.
This wonderful dream life will become
a world of perpetual adventure
when the last piece of the puzzle is found. 
Searchers and AI, get down to work!
(Well, I will bet more on robots.)
To achieve pure perfection,
it just misses a thing:
Yes, virtual food!
Indeed, it will 
be the best
of both
worlds.
...

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