Tag Archives: Boredom

Dearest Saturday

I worked all week,

I sweated and toiled,

I broke my back,

My plans were foiled,

My heart was shattered,

My brain turned to goo

So that, Dearest Saturday,

I could make it to you.

I slaved and I slobbered.

My displeasures grew

As I sat through lectures

I already knew,

I held off angry clients,

Protected my pen

So that we, Dearest Saturday,

Could be one once again.

Metaphorical dragons

Have fallen before me,

Slain so I could assure

That you would not deplore me,

And although I am thankful

To not be deplored

Why is it, Dearest Saturday,

That I’m this freakin’ bored?


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Dracula’s Social Life

Why does the slain dragon

No longer roar?

Why must we hear nothing

From the trophy boar?

Why does Mr. Presley

Play music no more?

Why must other dead things

Be such a snore?


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No Accounting For Taste (97% Fiction)

Four days ago I wrote a post

That said my throat was sore.

It still is and I’m tired

And I’m snowed-in and I’m bored.

I’m wearing just a bathrobe

That’s drenched in day-old phlegm.

Still no luck with the gals on Tinder…

Well, I don’t know what’s wrong with them.

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The Good Life

You haven’t bought an ostrich

For several months at least,

Nor have you cooked a lemon

In chestnuts, corks, or yeast.

You’ve never thrown a hand grenade

At some Windex in L.A.

So quit telling me you’re bored

And please just go away.

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Perception of Eternity

Time is not eternal:

It will someday go away,

And we’ll be left in timelessness

For eternity to stay.
Time is not eternal:

We’ve only got today,

But luckily we have meetings

To make it feel that way.

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Strategy Meeting

I watch my life go by

In factors of sixty.

That little rotating stick,

The flashing colon,

The unending count

Of passing seconds.

No matter how angry the birds,

How many temples I fail to escape,

Or how many aces lay buried

Beneath twos of their own suit,

The hand will not speed up.

My hopes, and my battery, are dead.

When will this meeting end?

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I’m Just That Uninspired

I thought about it.

Then I thought and thought some more,

Yet I still wrote this.

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