Within the longest hours of the day
Trying to make the keyboard obey
The mind goes on a different path
Placing me in an inexpressive wrath
I try to collect these thoughts unseen
And find myself taking in more nicotine
The laziness overt
My brain now inert
And spilling out dirt
Where’s my lucky shirt
Perhaps if I could find an idea machine
It could keep these lines out of the latrine
Instead here is my humdrum warpath
Leaving ennui like a ring in the bath
I think poetry may not be my forte
Fine this time for I must dump my ashtray
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
-
boy, it sure has been a while. i'm updating all my internet properties because i have to work on my "online presence" for a ux...
-
Author, and Marine veteran, Phil Klay took to Twitter to vent his frustrations at U.S. refusal toward people in need: 1. Tremendously ...
No comments:
Post a Comment