Where are the geeks?

I hate my job
I hate my desk
I hate my office
I need a rest

I hate my boss
I hate the place
I hate the smile
Across her face

I hate her words
I hate her tasks
I hate the people
Behind their masks

I hate the gossip
I hate the smarm
I hate the rules
I might self harm

I hate this pencil
I hate this pad
I hate that mouse
I might be mad

I hate my pc
I hate my phone
I hate my laptop
Don't leave me alone

I hate this morning
I hate the wait
I hate the supportdesk
The geeks are late

I hate my keyboard
I hate my water cup
I hate them mixing
My. Computers. Fucked. Up!

mademoiselle stalker

Im writing a poem for my stalker
I know she's reading this
Its probably gone past midnight
And shes probably a little bit pissed

Shes checked my dating profile
And gone to my staff page online
She been following me on twitter
As she sips sweet white wine

She got onto my facebook
Via a family friend
She notes down from my diary
Events i'm going to attend

My post its always being tampered
My parcels expertly unwrapped
Sometimes in my kitchen Im feeling
That Im just a little bit trapped

Changing my mobile number
Is not a solution for this bitch
Within the hour of changing numbers
Texts tell me its pointless to switch

My blog is not infallible
She knows Im live online
and if MSN is working
She can messenger me real time

No more a friendly 'Hi There'
No more a winking eye
Just jagged threating wordscapes
Telling me how I might die

Im in an electronic prison
Captured in a virtual hell
And my stalker, she knows, I know it
shes one twisted mademoiselle