Superfluous Group of Morons
We sit in empty offices all day
Wise people ignore everything we say
To shuffle paper really is our goal
We do well when staying off the dole
Nothing we ever do makes much sense
We’ve neither profundity nor recompense
None of us is technically able
Most of us are mentally unstable
We as a group are vain and unwise
We judge our worth by patterns on our ties
Sheeplike we huddle in our groups
Giving banal pointers to our troops
Daily we gorge on daft jargon
Putting self-important graces on
Habitually we speak of hierarchy
Our foolishness is what we cannot see
From nine to five we mark our days
Our dullness shows in myriad ways
We notice not our worth is spent
For worthless lives are management
Patrick Mackeown, May 2006
Picture by Local Guy
Did you like my poem about management?
Why don’t you take a look at this office-related poem:
