Indolence and the Idolatry of the Dolt

Indolence and the Idolatry of the Dolt

Indolence smeared on the season of autumn

Lathered in the lack there in

Of scheduled structures and planning projects

Other than the apparent drips that come from the faucet

Of low expectations and good enough for governmental head lines

Floating above this precious lap top and in crunch time

What occurs: frustration as a manifestation of the inability to grow

Beyond these borders to have my thoughts and knowledge

Of this industry truncated like the biting vines of a constrictor’s grip

Compressed in this tiny fish pond where no one knows the difference anyway

Competition is a dribble and flaccid and the compulsion to succeed

Is measured in folks is folks and understanding the notes

Of colloquial marching orders rather than professional standard bearing

Across generally accepted auditing standards

Where is the review of my work product?

The focus on what the fuck I am supposed to be doing here?

Does any of it matter at all?

Could I start snorting Jello packets during my work day off my desktop

Take prolonged outings to do price comparisons on replacement tropical fish?

At least then I would be accomplishing something worth while

Do I have to complain about everything? 

Can’t I just be happy to have work and some sort of purpose?

I ask myself on a pitching rotation.

I will never be above where I am; where I am is only a staging to have to move later

I am clueless on what other possibilities are out there?

Could I actually move, could I discuss such flights of fancy with other moving parts to this equation that make sense in the mean time, what must I do?

First I must collect this data, these contacts, a CD for these files inserted in an extracted movement so that the words are not lost in the pathways of forever? 

I need to retain my sovereignty over the idolatry of the dolt.

He says what he knows and not what is on average pertinent to append to the revolution of the situation and it wavers in to the alienation of “Are you even listening to what I have to say?”

Like a broken record of every single fucking day.

I need to stand on my own, Be powerful in my movement knowing there is an option and that option has some sort of sounding board other than just my own psyche.