After reading about the death of Nelson Mandela, I sat around reading the poem Invictus, in memory of this great man. A great leader, and then for some reason I had to arbitrarily change that poem to my current state of affairs, so here goes.....
Here, in the middle of the dim neon's blaze
Bright as the sun from door to door,
I thank whatever god’s grace
For my unmatched patience and more .
In the fell clutch of client ridicule
I have not grimaced or screamed out aloud.
Under the observations so microscopic and critical
My ears are bloody, but not closed.
Beyond this conference call of client wrath and management tears
Looms but the Horror of my appraisals grade,
And yet after knocking back a few cold beers
The review sheets and appraiser shall find me unafraid.
It matters not how far I’ve fallen from grace,
How miserably small my yearly hike is as a whole.
I am the master of my tiny cubicle space:
I am the captain of my code weary soul.
Here, in the middle of the dim neon's blaze
Bright as the sun from door to door,
I thank whatever god’s grace
For my unmatched patience and more .
In the fell clutch of client ridicule
I have not grimaced or screamed out aloud.
Under the observations so microscopic and critical
My ears are bloody, but not closed.
Beyond this conference call of client wrath and management tears
Looms but the Horror of my appraisals grade,
And yet after knocking back a few cold beers
The review sheets and appraiser shall find me unafraid.
It matters not how far I’ve fallen from grace,
How miserably small my yearly hike is as a whole.
I am the master of my tiny cubicle space:
I am the captain of my code weary soul.
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