Burning Out

When you look upon my tasks, your head might start to spin, and when you think you’re done at last, you’ll need to start again. All the blockers I’ve been facing have me against the wall, and while I try to climb this mountain, I’m setting up to fall. Queries queries queries, the data keeps on piling. And despite my efforts in efficacy, I must be patient while compiling. So when I stop and wonder at these monumental feats, I cannot help but ponder the limits of defeat. Like a lantern casting light, I can only provision so much oil, but the consumption that’s demanded has my systems boiled. What can I do against these monsoons and rising tides? And how can I weather these demands when I feel I must abide? Saying “no” is ineffective, saying “yes”: insane. I must digress this mess of stress manifests in feeling pain… that resides within my headaches and destroys my appetite, but that won’t stop me — from going down without a fight. It seemed like a good idea: agreeing to all these projects, but now I’m over-burdened (implementing prospects). My light can only burn so much with the fuel I provide, but the heat is burning me, and now I’m nearly fried. Weekends, nights, days, and lunches, I decided to work for free. Because following through with my word is so important to me. So I make the choice of what is right over what is easy. But there is no way in which I can successfully appease the — requests and maintenance that everyone’s demanded, and why my best efforts have me reprimanded. I didn’t design the processes that other devs forsook, but now I’m responsible for the shortcuts that they took. There is a stark difference between ideas and implementation, after all, innovation is only 1% inspiration. Now I present to you how I express myself — I’m not only working for free: but paying with my health.

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MalaBye

Sometimes what we get

isn’t what we deserve

I will never forget

how well you worked and served.

There’s no need to fret.

As I know you haven’t.

It seems you lost a bet.

Now I’m surely saddened.

With troubles, you’re beset!

Problems of a system…

You stand tall and reset,

like a program within a rhythm.

From the day when we first met

to now: this parting one…

It isn’t over yet.

But barely just begun…

May your appetite stay whet

with new joys and with wonders

you certainly won’t let

yourself be deterred by these blunders

Our country will regret

pushing you away…

I know your path is set,

but I wish that you would stay.

Tragedy

The stress that breaks you down is destroying other people – and what you see as the spread of ignorance is the growth of evil. And avoiding the topic does nothing but inflate it, and we’re tempted by our baseline to abhor and abate it. The tragedy of this situation is growing and systemic – the mental health of our people’s nothing short of a pandemic. When we worry for our thoughts we keep their pain a secret, where eventually we’ll shatter to everyone’s regret. And I watch with sadness and with sympathy – attempting and imploring all my veins of empathy. What can we do against such burning rage and hate? And how can we fight the master hand that steers out fate? Bullets don’t end bullets, but rather multiply them – and fighting fire with fire results in pure mayhem. So hold this tragedy as a rip within your heart, and see how you can spread love rather than fear the dark. Aspire toward embrace, aspire toward the light – because casting shadows only spreads a blight.

Sincerity 

You’re watering lemons to give us lemonade? Such is sugar to demons slurping on our veins.

And when artists like you succumb to mediocrity, who knows what’s true in a grand hypocrisy?

Isn’t it such a burden to dilate your third eye? And within the image burned-in, you might wonder why I lie?

Since the truth is what you make (and that is reality), what is real or is fake competes with our mentality.

I humbly request you broadcast your fruits with clarity. Concentrate your efforts despite the insincerity.

Potluck

Every now and sometimes then,
You might not know how or when,
But you’ll be informed somehow someway —
of something held once in a Wednesday.

Conversations unanimously unique —
once in a lifetime people who you meet.
Laughter by the bottle, conversation by the plate.
Forget about your troubles, and any latent hate.

You’d think love would have its limits,
but you’ll circle back, and never finish.
Our circles circle rings locked tight,
our shoulders rubbing through the night.

Who knows who — you might meet there?
What’s your name? You’re from where?
And which friend(s) introduced you, guest?
Oh no way! She/he/they are the best!

And then comes the rigorous cleaning process.
Where I eat more than I can process.
Another sip of this, and a pull from that.
I think I’ll grab the piece with all the fat.

You can’t bottle love… but you can pipe it.
Our conduit’s as wide as my smile likes it.

Digging

The more data I consume, the hungrier I get. And despite feeling full, my appetite’s whet. Processing, peeling, layered bananas. The never-ending story I can’t abandon. And what I know, I cannot forget. In a sea of ignorance: a tinge of regret. Is it right to give vision to the willfully blind? Placating their ignorance is surely unkind… My head hurts with decisions like these, and haven’t response but to appease the poisoning stems knowledge brings to fruition when rooted in greed and thoughtless ambition.

Splunkity Spelunk

Splunking’s like spelunking: but the exploration of data saved, we’ll bring light into the darkness like finding clues within a cave. We’ll start by guessing patterns in hypothetical directions, but shortly we’ll find truth with regular expressions. And when we figure out how to get the torches burning, knowledge will spread like fire in supervised machine learning. When we know the contours of the stalactites and stalagmites, we’ll lay the foundation for a digital data pipe. Data is like water — pooled deep and murky, we’ll filter all the streams so they’re no longer dirty. And that will be where our analysis begins, becoming the dashboard of visualizations.

Happy Birthday Charlie

We wrestled, we tussled, we exerted our muscles as we pinned and grinned while we played. We snorted and laughed, we farted the bath and basked in the trouble we made. Risk and Smash, the kite we crashed, fun filled all of our days. Our memories mix lusciously rich as I backwardly glance my gaze.

A Year at Reality

A year has passed…
I can hardly believe it.
An opportunity so vast,
I can barely conceive it.

We keep on growing
through this digital endeavor
with our progress showing
as we work together.

Touch devices, networks, tablets and screens —
with elves, makeup, toys and cars.
Content deployed through well-piped streams.
Data collected from near and afar.

We are legends in the making,
caring for our customers’ every needs.
With the design awards we keep taking,
we capture visions imagined from dreams.

Our documentation is our history.
And within a confluence of bright minds
we continue investigating the mysteries
of problems associated with digital signs.

We may Slack, but that doesn’t mean we’re lazy.
we’re just interacting virtually in Reality.
We work behind and make the scenes
Retail Rugged and reliably.

We’re not a machine of cogs and gears
as each one of us is essential.
And when getting help from my willing peers…
I’m reminded — this place — is special.