Tag Archives: Boredom

Or The Guy Who Watches Him, Or…

If you ever feel bored,

Like you know nothing new,

Just imagine the spy

Who’s whole job’s to watch you.

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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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Bee Minus

Living as a bumblebee

Is really very lame.

Your life is run by mind control

And every day’s the same.

Our homes are much too sticky

And attract too many bears.

Yellow and black are so last Spring

But no one ever cares.

It’s hard to have an argument

When your sole source of defense

Creates discomfort in your enemy

And kills you in recompense.

And so we drone and buzz and fly

And polenate a bagonia,

Humming “Fields of Gold” by Sting,

Hoping the queen does not disown ya.

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He Looks Just Like You

I’ve got a crippling fear of insects,

But that’s not much of an issue

Since I work inside a hospital

In the birthing ward.

From time to time, an ugly baby

Will burst forth into my view.

I’ll say “oh look, he’s cute as a bug,”

‘Cause it’s honest and I’m bored.


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