Monday, July 28, 2008

WHOAAAAA RICH!!!! Yep, I'm REALLY on a roll here folks! I just can't help it!!!!! Here is yet another great and groovy poem from yours truly Rich the Cool Guy.

Here's something that we can all relate too. Cold dark bleak morning. Flopping haphazardly out of bed. Dragging yourself to the shower. Trudging off to work. No spring in your step..... Yep! You guessed's MONDAY!!!!!!

This poem captures the essence of what Monday is all about and it is dedicated to everyone out there who endures this odyssey week after week after week.....

" Up at 6
Can't believe I'm awake
No strong black coffee
I'm a goner by 8

From 8 until 9, I try to be inspired
Despite the fact, that I'm incredibly tired
But from 9 through to 10
Need rest. Oh when? Oh when?

10 to 11, I'm at my work station
Wish I were a bear, having 6 months hibernation
And 11 to 12, the midday fiesta
Can't we please close shop and have a siesta?

So at 12 to 1, a break! How terrific!
Doesn't help me at all, I'm sooooo soporific
I have my lunch, into the chair I sink
Is there any relief? Can I catch 40 winks?
To stay awake I try to read
But my eyelids are coming down at very high speed

From 1 until 2, am I awake? have I dozed?
I am seriously, seriously comatozed
Between 2 and 3, I'm starting to go under
The situation's desperate, I really need to slumber

The infinite stretch between between 3 and 4
Means a titanic effort not to snore
The long minutes till 5, tell me I'm barely alive
Only 30 minutes left....can I possibly survive?

By 5:30 my eyes are as heavy as lead
So its off home for me now, to my slippers and bed
I try not to think of a new day dawning
Look! Already that's got me yawning...."

REPEAT BACK TO VERSE ONE....and start all over again......

Here comes another one..........

Anne and Sarah reminded me sometime ago of an ongoing problem that many of us experience day after day. The Bus. What's all the fuss about the bus you may well ask? This poem spells it out. The short sharp stanza's convey the crippling and debilitating effects these machines have on us, and raise the question of why it's called a bus-stop and not a bus-go.

"Don't know about you, but I'm depressed when I wait
Twiddling my thumbs because the bus is late
Would get home more quickly wearing roller skates.

I sit at the stop in rain and sunlight
The empty road tells me things are not looking so bright
Looking and looking my bus is nowhere in sight

There is a timetable, but oh to what purpose?
My bus is no sleek and ultra fast porpoise
But rather a lumbering and very slow tortoise

Some buses they pass, but mine's not here
I'm starting to grow a beard I fear
Time marches on, seems I'm not going anywhere

To help pass the time, I try not to frown
But rather to sing, let the words resound
The wheels on the bus go round and round.....

Will I get home? My hopes realised?
Will I get moving? I may be surprised
Or stuck at the stop become fossilised?

I'm sure you have noticed a distinct lack of flow
Like the proverbial snail, my bus is on a go-slow
And Rich, at the stop at an all time low.

With growing finality, I'm resigned to my doom
"Where is the bus?" just deepens my gloom
Never mind drowning in a sea of exhaust and fumes.

And when finally in the distance there comes my ride
I reach for the joy that is deep inside
Home to my slippers, a toot and my pipe."
Hey tickety boo everyone!

My photo speaks to us all about time, history, productivity, innovation, thoughtfulness and the world in which we live. This has been a meaningful exercise and journey for me. My conclusion.....Flickr is my friend.

Monday, July 21, 2008

Hi Ho Folks!

Don't know about you but I'm really revved up over my new blog site. Seriously!!!!! All this wonderful technology just blows my hair back, even though I'm aware that I'm not the brightest bulb in the chandelier when it comes to things technological. So I thought (just to whet your appetite even more) that I would include another brilliant poem that I wrote a couple of years ago when I was going through the slough of despond. This poem is entitled P.R.O.M. (see if you can relate to this!).

"It's snoresville deluxe
It's dullsville supreme
It's an insomniacs delight
It is what it seems

It's eyelids come down
It's attention span short
You look at the folder
and that's your last thought

It's major league boredom
It's dreary, incomprehensible
It's the ultimate sleeping pill
It's........Principles of Record Management."

"Can I make it?"

Here's a poem that I think we all can identify with.......

"Can I make it I wonder to myself
My slippers are beckoning
and by my reckoning
I have about 8 hours to go..........."