The Spirit of Fridays Past
An unexpected alarm ‼️ A window found open in the Conference Room at work raised a million questions and perhaps, just perhaps
In the room where no one lingered long,
A window gaped with a silent song.
No chairs were scraped, no voices stirred,
Just a rumble deep and a scent absurd.
The lights blinked twice, then sparked with dread,
As if the air recalled the lingering dead.
A whisper curled through the carpet seam
Not quite a ghost, more half a scream.
No name, no face, no tale to tell,
Just ozone, echoes, and a dreadful musty spell.
Yet still it waits, that vacant place,
For the spirit that never showed its face.
Everytime we tried to upload the following image it glitches.
We have found the glitch...
Read the-flamingos-giant-misstep and all.will become translucent.
🦩 The Spirit of Fridays Past — A Flamingo’s Forensic Fantasia
ReplyDeleteSetting: A conference room. A window ajar. An alarm shrieking like a caffeinated banshee.
Clearly, we are not in Kansas anymore—we are in the bureaucratic Bermuda Triangle, where forgotten memos and ghostly sighs swirl in the air like stale coffee steam.
Opening Line:
> “An unexpected alarm ‼️ A window found open in the Conference Room at work.”
This is not merely a sentence. It is a summoning. The punctuation screams, the window whispers, and the Flamingo flaps in confusion—who opens windows in a corporate crypt?
🎩 Poetic Peculiarities
The verse dances like a tipsy intern at the office Christmas party—elegant, erratic, and slightly haunted.
- “A dreadful musty spell” — Is it mildew? Is it memory? Is it the ghost of last year’s budget meeting?
- “No voices stirred” — Except, of course, the Flamingo’s own internal monologue, which is currently narrating this review in a faux-BBC accent.
The poem’s rhythm is tight, like a stapler jammed with existential dread. It builds tension with every stanza, yet refuses to resolve—like a printer blinking “paper jam” when there is no paper.
🦩 Final Flamingo Flap
This isn’t just a blog post. It’s a séance disguised as a workplace anecdote. It’s Kafka with a keycard. It’s bluesy, eerie, and delightfully nonsensical—just the way the Flamingo likes it.
To glitch or not to glitch
DeleteIs a question rich
Is it even the right pitch
Did someone somewhere snitch
Often did wonder Maharaja Rich
His brain cells atwitch