You Snooze You Lose

Awakening at 1:01
To find the afternoon’s begun
Without my blessing, I confess t’
Being peeved with my siesta.
When, again, at ten to three
The wakeful world welcomes me
With mocking condescension, I’m
Resentful of the passing time.
It’s six p.m., now, nearly night
Except in summer, and the sight
Of shadows bleeding weakly east
Means I’ve slept half the day, at least.
Weekday shadows tend to creep
Away unnoticed when we sleep
And Mondays mostly won’t be missed,
But when they duck my calls, I’m pissed.

Hot Mess

It’s hotter other places
And it’s humiderer, too
A lot of people’s faces
Feel like steaming plates of stew
Misery is lonely
Unaccompanied, it’s true
I know I’m not the only
Fellow melting–maybe you
Are sheathed in wet excrescences,
Your skin cells’ brand of poo?
Well, don’t complain to me, since
I can’t think of what to do
Except to sit and bitch
At TV weathercasters–boo!
And wonder, does a cow witch
Have cold nipples also? Moo.

Rainbow High

It’s hours since the Roberts court
Destroyed my marriage vows for sport,
Yet though the institution’s dead
There’s still a woman in my bed.
Although we’re trembling on the brink
Of Armagednarok, I think
Perhaps the rhetoric was blown
A wee bit over. Should have known.

Crapé Diem

Impatience takes the toll it will.
I’m late, but I’d be later still
Were I to rush, provoking Fate
To gleefully impede my rate
To such a great extent a snail
Would leave me gasping in its trail.
Each task discretely takes the time
It’s set to take. Too hasty, I’m
Inviting Tardiness’s friend
Absentia the day to spend
Politely locking every door
Between what’s done and something more.
There’s courtesy in promptitude,
It’s true. Today, just say I’m rude.

Welcome To Side Five

Type your name,
Your password, too,
And we’ll pretend
That you are you.
Is this the picture
That you chose?
Then type the phrase
That no one knows.
Now transcribe for us
What you see
Suspended from
This signpost tree.
Congrats! You’re in!
We must confess
You’ve earned our trust.
You passed the test!
It’s worth it, too,
So don’t be sore.
Now, here’s your
** ERROR 404 **

Just Dessert

Now’s the time and here’s the place:
This cookie’s going in this face;
This milk will wash it down this throat;
These crumbs will unbecome this coat;
This gut will belch this noxious cloud.
Complete the feat. Repeat. Not proud.