Chad had a PhD in loafing arts.
Who knew that one could rest
so many parts?
The man would plan his off time
out in charts.
To move him, one would need
the use of carts.
There was no task that he
could not avoid.
Just sitting still was what
he most enjoyed.
Who knows how he will
ever be employed?
One could get much more work
out of a droid.
Dot and Dot
had colon trouble,
period.
They would have been comma
if life weren’t such a dash.
"We’re not apostrophe,"
they’d exclamation point.
But the question marked them.
And to quote Mark,
they needed a good slash,
right in the hyphen,
period.
You’re the king of the wide open spaces.
You’re a tie and black shoes with no laces.
You’re an endless dirty fight.
You’re a tail whose dog won’t bite.
You’re on permanently temporary basis.
You’re the king of the wide open spaces.
You’re the duke of imaginary hollow.
Where the senses may senselessly just wallow.
You’re a staple of the range
Where the antelopes are strange.
And the deer is impossible to swallow.
You’re the duke of imaginary hollow.
You’re a slave to the king and duke machine.
And you seem to work so hard it makes you mean.
You’re a quite unpleasant peasant
With an eye trained on the present.
You’re a pauper always dreaming of the queen.
You’re a slave to the king and duke machine.
Face to face with fate,
I turned, but much too late.
My beneficial bruising
Seemed at the time like losing.
But much good would come of it.
I learned, in fact, to love it.
On everyone life leaves its marks.
Some suffer gnats and others sharks.
And my unique disfiguration
Stemmed from distrust in my nation.
Branded by a fear of power,
I grew weaker by the hour.
Death presented options often.
Ride it out inside a coffin.
Then one day I felt much stronger.
Seemed the scars were there no longer.
Peace was made with all mankind.
Bruising’s healed within the mind.
When outrageous gets contagious,
things get topsy-turvy.
Square goes round and air turns ground
while straight becomes all curvy.
Glitter’s thrown in with the litter.
Crones become vivacious.
Monks who’ve taken silence vows
now laugh and get loquacious.
Spinsters take their cars for spins,
looking for hitchhikers.
Lifelong priests embrace their sins,
hanging out with bikers.
But nothing lasts, this crazy blast
will run its course in time.
You meek and staid, don’t be afraid,
this life turns on a dime.