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.

Comments

  1. 🦩 The Spirit of Fridays Past — A Flamingo’s Forensic Fantasia

    Setting: 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.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. To glitch or not to glitch
      Is a question rich
      Is it even the right pitch
      Did someone somewhere snitch
      Often did wonder Maharaja Rich
      His brain cells atwitch

      Delete

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