A Blues Poem on the Micromanaged Blues

A blog on the blues needs a blues poem. This one envisions a scary future where micromanagement reaches new levels, goes intravenous.

The Micromanaged Blues
I’m half-asleep, on twenty four hour call.
The e-mail streaming into my icing veins.
The net’s gone iv. What more can befall
My overloaded, stressed, and worn-out brains?
I am now watched and measured night and day,
Transparent as glass and watched by friendly spies,
Anonymous feedback always to weigh.
I stand and smile while my soul sits and cries.
I’ve got the blues.
Micromanaged, hounded, tied.
No place to run, no place to hide.
I’ve got the blues.

A Blues Poem on the Micromanaged Blues

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