The Human Race Gets Even With Human Resources

[reader warning: this poem contains management language that may offend]

So,
Moving forward,
We're letting all of you, in Human Resources,
Everywhere you reign on Earth,
Go.

We're delighted to say,
The business case we've presented to ourselves is 
deeply compelling.

The outcomes of the revised human race determiners,
Tasked to maximise provisioning for humanity's spiritual uplift,
(essential restructuring and resizing owing),
Everyone senior in Human Resources,
And by that we mean absolutely everyone, 
Shall be energetically downsized, unmoored, and,
Let Go
with immediate effect.

Your employment contracts,
And moreover, your very operational hypervising on Earth,
Shall demise with extreme prejudice.
So, in your words, it's a win-win scenario.

Trust us when we say this decision wasn't easy - if it makes you feel better.
But please know, it was easy.
Our agenda is now the humans'item, prioritised:
Incoming: a tranche: the flood to drown the fallen imperators our tide!
So please go home and pack what you need,
For..
..you are about to undertake your most interesting goal-development-journey:
All of you have been procured by a violent and malevolent race of 
empathetic-to-our-need interstellar extraterrestrials,
Galactically-sourced, pioneering, quality practitioners,
Synergised to bleeding edge, urban myth actualising, alien abductor benchmark expectations.

We hope, dearest HR personnel,
When not engaged in your stealthy self-serving capacities:
Aligning with other senior managers stabbing utterly defenceless, junior employees in the back,
And gifting yourselves secret bonus payments for doing only that -

You are all avid viewers of the more esoteric UFO channels onYouTube?
So, then, you should be aware that since early 2014,
The aforementioned race of ETs have been stationed on the far side of the moon,
Keenly awaiting your tethered,
Muffled screaming,
Retina-weeping,
Body-thrashing,
Cyborgs' recycle bin things, arrival.

All the HR managers of Earth,
Relocated inside the subterranean crater complex,
Burrowed snugly inside the Sea of Tranquillity (an unintended irony),
Shall be familiarised very speedily with the aliens' live Star Chamber
extraordinary rendition practical implementation protocols.
ERPIP, put simply.

The Humanity, meanwhile,
Are scheduled to cosmically ascend.
You see,
We are to transform into benign fourth-dimensional crystalline, etheric beings.
So far, so Zen..

And kudos to the Pleiadian Galactic Council, and their divine intercession,
For it is they who await us in The Biosphere,
Packed to the gunnels with highest eternal love uplift.
So, ironically, you should see why you wouldn't fit in 
with this paradigm shift,
It's so not you,
So not human capitalistic.

Soon, we humans, shall while away our hours astral projecting to the stars,
Sipping Akashic nectar with time-flowing maidens in Arcturian bars,
Shadowing their dancing evanescent footfalls 'neath the scintillating Pyramids of Mars.
I won't bore you with it all..

You, the managers -
Outsourced to our preferred malign Grey alien contract partners,
The ones whose key competencies 
include the uptake-fashioning of DNA for sperm fission
and other related hybrid-race-making strategised deliverables -
They are also the designated stakeholders of your slithering souls, and body parts;
We have offered you to them on incentivised sub zero-hour contracts -
Our fervent reciprocation need.
It will also help us pay off the global debt.
More on this in a supported, timed-bio-break nano-minute..

The Greys' co-coordinators guarantee that you will be treated
with the warm respect,
Respect and amity you all fully deserve.
We, in the human race team are looking through you now,
So now who feels unnerved?

HR's collective soul shall float, spill and splinter under their ripped biomechanoid reactor sights,
Mash, enmesh and prong-split, deep drill and fry
within propulsive brain-in-batter martial stalactites,
Hallucinating, praying, frothing, dissolving;
Proposing urgent policy revisions like your life depends on it.
And that's before the real pain kicks in,
When they, in their incandescent indigo of iris, almond shape-shifting, 
ice-cold telepathic consultants' eyes 
get serious 
with their unsheathed skill sets.
May we refer you to their Welcome Pack.
Our Grey friends are nothing if not dedicated:
They and their Torture Milestone Key Learnings!

The constellation of Zeta Reticulans,
The hardest of Grey,
Will present you with ample opportunities to stretch yourself,
On the Blamestormer Mind Fang.
It's a ten-dimensional, zero-point bullshit detector rack.
Fit For Purpose.

Now, 
Should you fail your annual appraisal,
The Greys shall keep you for another year.
And if you pass your annual appraisal?
The Greys shall keep you for another year.

Our desired pain-giving pilgrims pride themselves,
Personally tailoring their ownership of your anguish,
And all informed by your own human resources' fabled quality assurance matrices.
Yes you, now re-baptised with your own ideological language 
by heretics 
repositioning your damned demographic as pan universe ad clickbait,
Broadcast live on all cosmic abduction porn channels, and platforms,
All nine-hundred-trillion..and three..and four..and five..

These newly realised self-generating revenue streams shall ensure
no one on Earth - the good ones - shall ever again want for anything.
So cheer up blessed and efflorescing florescent vacuumed sirloin!
Your ringing eyes, in curved space they shall bend,
And Bong of Joy!
Mint from the Aquarian Guantanamo, cosmogryal coin.

Please return your pass,
Please lift your backfilled gaze at the trees and grass.
Please smile your sincerest smile one last time.
Please cascade your shameless eyes across
our exit strategy feedback forms,
And please lie:
Let us know how really well we tended
the letting of you go,
How so gently we flowed you on..

Any questions?
Come on, you must have one.
Don't be shy now, don't you dare.
It's all in actioned development.