I think that I shall never see
A blog posting as lovely as a poem.
Okay, that doesn’t rhyme. But some days a poem says it all for me. And today is one of those days.
This is an old poem/story that I wrote when I was an MBA student, ah the good old days of exams, job interviews, and beer kegs. I was trying to capture how the war & battle metaphor pervades the practice of marketing, for good and for ill. Thank goodness there are no battles in academia (yeah, right!).
We tarried long in darkness, bundling ourselves in obsessions, packaging delightedly the compulsion to package in brightly colored boxes, with ribbons and bows, papers and cards to feed to the dying off of the Light. Lest we die, go off without honor and remembrance.
Naked out we went, bereft of indulgences of niceness or acrimony. We were Warriors Supreme. Our Mission was simple. Market Share, and Dominance, and nothing less.
Ragged and hungry, we stooped by flickering fires to tell stories of Vision and Values, Conquerings and Challenges on the night before doing battle. We caught our falling souls in time to justify clinging to one another as something inspired and honest and reminiscent of truths of whose wholeness we’d always rightfully been contemptuous.
And then the battle creek raged with the fire of our uplifted swords, and the Consumers, though they fought, were caught unaware and died in droves, in gutwrenching pain, and we sang our butchering battlecries up to the stars and hightowers that flickered like honey moons skyscraping starlight in our eyes. And no one heard us but the Bankers.
And there was terrible trembling in the air as, in yearling blood, the ghastly debts for our campaign were finally paid.