Work Work Work

Not cynical, just experienced.

Industry parades on, repetition
ad nauseum, flashes of brilliance
in a dull gray ocean of inanity
it’s a tough job but somebody’s
got to do it,
and why was that again?

whether you’re climbing the ladder
or flying under the radar
you’ll get shot down, blown up,
stabbed in the back, it’s the
nature of the enterprise
when surrounded by faces
smiling or grim convinced
of the vital importance of this
goal or that or themselves,
stealing credit, shifting blame,
covering asses until the too many balls
being juggled start crashing down:
we’ll cross that bridge
when we come to it.

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