Let me say something now,
and I’ll say it straight:
You are the master, true,
of your private fate.
Addiction’s not a sickness,
it’s a crutch.
It’s a personal weakness,
and as such
it’s your only goal,
the oath of your soul
to break free!
Be the best you
you can be.
-to find truth,
and an escape,
from animosity.
Oh shit! Napowrimo,
I nearly forgot.
Poet I may be
structured I’m not.
Here follows four short poems
in rapid succession
That I hope, just maybe
excuse my digression.
April 1 – Sunday Musings
Yesterday, I had to work…
A six day week in all.
While overtime is no stranger
a Saturday’s pretty tall.
So saddle the sofa, and call me a loafer
relaxing is my calling.
Upon my rear, for near a year
or at least, until morning.
April 2 – Monday Blues
Gah! The weekend was too short
and my Monday start too early.
A stack of work besets my desk,
exhaustion makes me surly.
And there they come, the terrorists
to further spoil my mood.
Do they know, that teachers too
dread coming in to school.
April 3 – Breaking Point
Tomorrow is the long weekend,
a five day break.
Which should make this lasr day
a piece of cake.
But, syllabi are designed by beauraucratic sadists,
and my outpile now resembles climbs up Mount Everest.
So, say a prayer unwitting students,
your teacher’s on the warpath.
And, just for once, be disciplined
or today might be your last.
April 4 – Sneaky Weekend
The sun sets on another day
as I lay my head to rest.
The seats in the sixteenth aisle
putting my legs to the test.
The prospect of a Holiday
has set my heart a beating.
Beyond the clouds lies Hanoi
and more comfortable seating.
So, speed me off to dreamland
where time passes quickly,
away from my Asian neighbor
whose food smells quite sickly.
Carry me to Vietnam
where the sun rises on cuisine,
to noodle soups, and French baguettes,
where the street corner is the scene.
White noise
has filled my ears
for nearly four years.
But with each passing day
I seem to be more in tune
with the words being spoken
and the calendar of the moon.
Snapshots 