Oh. my. heck. Yes -even Oh, my flippin’ heck!

I had SO much difficulty picking a winner. There were only two or three poems that were a tad too pretty, and even those chose to do something terrible at some point.

This means that the following pulled ahead by merely a squeak:

Untitled piece

by M.K.M.

Submit to authority, they say with a twitch
The twitch was insecurity
“She’s a snitch” I yell, drug off in cuffs
But this was a figment of my imagination
Snitch! I mumble as the cops catch my bluff
Once again my imagination
I get back to scrubbing the dishes
I still hate my boss for making me use soap
Dumb
Bum
Sum
Crumb. Cake.
Crap…
More crumb cake to scrub away.

Congratulations to M.K.M! You are the most terrible poet of the week!

I think what ultimately pushed this one ahead was that I really respected the poet’s masterful rhyming and meter patterns -specifically, his or her ability to lead us along like the poem was actually going somewhere and then throw us against a brick wall of Verse Expectation.

I also liked the theme that then wasn’t really a theme but ended up with a semi-related theme that was just nonsense. I do not say this was a winning element, however, as a few of the other ‘poets’ utilized a similar method.

Speaking of the others; here they are, in roughly the order of submission:

My dumb manager (with footnotes to aid scholars)

by The Ever-Patient Bruce Goodman

My manager is really dumb.
Oh bum.
What a wonderfully dumb manager is my manager.
I haven’t turned up for work in three years and she hasn’t noticed yet.
Heck. (Footnote: “Heck” almost rhymes with “yet”).
I love my dumb manager.
When I married her I knew she would overlook my attendance
in order to get independence.
Isn’t that funny? (Footnote: “funny” rhymes with “money” but I was unable to fit the word “money” in).
I am now going with my dumb manager to Honolulu
so don’t poopoo (Footnote: “poopoo” rhymes with “Honolulu”) my dumb manager.
I said to my dumb manager, “I just know ya
can’t wait to say aloha.”
Hurrah for my dumb waitress manager!

—–

The (almost a) Sonnet to Dumb Managers Everywhere

by Greygirlieandme

Managers come in all shapes and sizes,
And all sorts of capabilities.
Their office walls show their college prizes,
Proving they’ve fast tracked above the minions.

They’ll grind you down with blue sky thinking,
Process improvements and horizon scans.
Kaizen this and ‘Is it agile? that.
Well my paradigm’s not shifting yet.

They stalk offices all over the place,
Brain storming us all to bored ennui.
Bragging about their third rate MBAs
And that it’s not about I but us.

Pie charts, gantt charts, synergized flow charts.
Oh stuff it all, you’re the elephants in the room.

—–

Untitled piece

by Furious Pockets

There once was a boss from the city,
Whose management style was woke.
If you were a man, you’d be out of luck,
For ‘twas only the women he wanted to promote.

—–

The Mutually Exclusive Manager

by D. Wallace Peach, Esquire

Work ‘til five, no overtime
But get that project done

He hopes that you enjoy your work
But growls if you’re having fun

Work, work, working for a crumb
I got a headache, working for a bum
Wish I could quit, my manager’s dumb

He hires on the cheap
Then gripes about training

Moans that my attitude stinks
But does nothing but complaining

Work, work, working for a crumb
I got a headache, working for a bum
Wish I could quit, my manager’s dumb

—–

Untitled piece

by RhScribbles

Dumb managers are
Dumb du dumb dumb

Your boss is dumber
Dumber du dumber dumb

Than a box of rocks
Rocks ro rocks rocks

Take a bathroom break
And never return
That boss will
Really burn 
burn bu burn burn

His popcorn

—–

Untitled piece

by Anne Copeland

Oh manager, oh manager . . .
It’s time for your review.
Your service sucks in every way,
And your personality is peeyew!
I am not your personal errand girl
And my butt’s not yours to pinch.
If you think you can bully me
You need to see the Grinch!
I’m glad I’m not a boss like you
With your tail between your legs
A chicken has more brains than you
And it can lay good eggs.
I used to think you were half a man
But now as I look to see what’s left,
There must have been a terrible theft
For all I see is a garbage can . . .

—–

Untitled piece

by Lisa Bradshaw

There was a manager once
who stood before my desk
do this do that he said.
who me, should I really
but yesterday was something else
and now it’s something new
Make up your mind I clearly thought
you change things all the time
I’ll keep as is the page you see,
as tomorrow for sure
there will be ideas anew.
It’s the pedestal that you require
reserved for people like you

—–

The Misguided Manger

by Peregrine Arc

He has this book, he said.

It’ll revolutionize our corner on the market.

He said.

I sighed. Someone next to me cried. I do not lie. We did not want to try his newfangled ideas, I surmised.

“We’ll make frappucinos better, our Eggs Benedict delicious-ier. We shall be be known as the restaurant that stole brunch!”

Fry. Sizzle. Pop. Smear. Toast. Serve.

Clink, clink, clink. Receipt, receipt, receipt.

“Still we forgot one thing. We never advertised, did we?”

Munch, munch, munch. The same old bunch.

Lovely they were, but the same old bunch.

Lunch, lunch, lunch.

Come get the brunch!

Sizzle.

You are all doing very well, class. I am most impressed at the awfulness of your writings. Be sure to tune in tomorrow for the next week’s contest prompt and rules.