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Monday, May 1, 2017
Hamlet for Today
Hamlet
for Today
2010
Like
most modern day workers, Hamlet enters the break room and immediately
starts to complain...
Ah, to be, anywhere else indeed, that is the question
whether it is nobler in the mind to suffer
the slings and arrows of the office and its misfortune
or by running away to a place of reverie
avoid them? To quit; to work no more;
and by work to say we slave;
the heart-ache and a thousand bills,
the debt of life accumulates, and must be paid,
perchance to pay, ay, there's the rub
for in our solitude what income may we gather,
When we have shuffled off this workman's toil?
Must give us pause, there's the respect
That makes calamity of so long a respite.
For who would bear the whips and chains of work,
the owner's wrong, the supervisor's derision,
the pangs of bonuses lost, of pay grade frozen,
the arrogance of management and the spurns
that advancement not to unworthy gives,
When we ourselves might our fortunes make,
with hands bare? who would burdens bear,
to toil and strive under heavy load,
but the dread of something after employment,
the undiscover'd freedom from wealth springs,
sojourn not, confounding the mind,
and makes us rather bear the jobs we have,
than strike out on quests we know not of?
Thus circumstance does make cowards of us all;
and thus the common site of current workplace
is cast in hues of thoughts depressed,
and ventures of great risk and merit
with this in mind are cast aside,
and lose the force of momentum. Resist now!
the multitude of coworkers, in their mockery
be all my folly remember'd.
Ah, to be, anywhere else indeed, that is the question
whether it is nobler in the mind to suffer
the slings and arrows of the office and its misfortune
or by running away to a place of reverie
avoid them? To quit; to work no more;
and by work to say we slave;
the heart-ache and a thousand bills,
the debt of life accumulates, and must be paid,
perchance to pay, ay, there's the rub
for in our solitude what income may we gather,
When we have shuffled off this workman's toil?
Must give us pause, there's the respect
That makes calamity of so long a respite.
For who would bear the whips and chains of work,
the owner's wrong, the supervisor's derision,
the pangs of bonuses lost, of pay grade frozen,
the arrogance of management and the spurns
that advancement not to unworthy gives,
When we ourselves might our fortunes make,
with hands bare? who would burdens bear,
to toil and strive under heavy load,
but the dread of something after employment,
the undiscover'd freedom from wealth springs,
sojourn not, confounding the mind,
and makes us rather bear the jobs we have,
than strike out on quests we know not of?
Thus circumstance does make cowards of us all;
and thus the common site of current workplace
is cast in hues of thoughts depressed,
and ventures of great risk and merit
with this in mind are cast aside,
and lose the force of momentum. Resist now!
the multitude of coworkers, in their mockery
be all my folly remember'd.
For reference, you can read the original here:
I Am Not Finished
I
Am Not Finished
2010
2010
I
am not finished,
just a work in progress.
It is all I will ever be.
Ever changing, ever growing.
Developing, evolving,
for better maybe for worse.
I am not done.
This is not what I want to be.
I am what I am,
but for a moment.
Then I am something else.
I can hardly tell, myself,
what I might become.
But becoming is what I am.
Ever changing, ever growing.
With my dying breath,
I will say,
but I am not finished.
just a work in progress.
It is all I will ever be.
Ever changing, ever growing.
Developing, evolving,
for better maybe for worse.
I am not done.
This is not what I want to be.
I am what I am,
but for a moment.
Then I am something else.
I can hardly tell, myself,
what I might become.
But becoming is what I am.
Ever changing, ever growing.
With my dying breath,
I will say,
but I am not finished.
Fini
Hold the Door
Hold
the Door
Lunch
with the girls is fine with me
We chat and laugh and dine
We talk of this and talk of that
And have a good old time
Sometimes there's one, or maybe two
Sometimes it's three or more
And every time we go to lunch
I try to hold the door
But chivalry is dead you see
And sometimes others whine
They fight to hold the door for me
And claim "the turn is mine"
I thought it was OK to hold
The door for other's too
But if the door for you I hold
You want to hold it too
Equal rights is what you say
Sometimes I would agree
But not when holding doors for you
A gift I give for free
If chauvinist is how you see
The person that I am
I guess I better place this rose
In someone else's hand
I was raised in times gone by
When men were gentle-men
And women were so many things
But mainly ladies then
You'd hold the door and you'd be told
That everything was fine
You'd hold the door for young and old
And never hear them whine
You never had to hire defense
And prove your motives pure
You knew there'd be no consequence
Because you held the door.
We chat and laugh and dine
We talk of this and talk of that
And have a good old time
Sometimes there's one, or maybe two
Sometimes it's three or more
And every time we go to lunch
I try to hold the door
But chivalry is dead you see
And sometimes others whine
They fight to hold the door for me
And claim "the turn is mine"
I thought it was OK to hold
The door for other's too
But if the door for you I hold
You want to hold it too
Equal rights is what you say
Sometimes I would agree
But not when holding doors for you
A gift I give for free
If chauvinist is how you see
The person that I am
I guess I better place this rose
In someone else's hand
I was raised in times gone by
When men were gentle-men
And women were so many things
But mainly ladies then
You'd hold the door and you'd be told
That everything was fine
You'd hold the door for young and old
And never hear them whine
You never had to hire defense
And prove your motives pure
You knew there'd be no consequence
Because you held the door.
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