It's 10:48
I'm late (I'm late)
10:48
What will I do?
Where will I go?
How...will I know?
It's 10:49
I'm sick of the whine...
but sicker still, of that cocky shrill
from the that pusher of cheese, ol' weisenheim
It's 10:51
ho hum.
Ho, hum.
10:51
At ten-fifty-three
I think I will see
what might become
of this dreadful drum.
Oh, it's 10:53
Oh me (oh me!)
10:53
At 10:55 (if I'm still alive)
I think I'll sneeze
or perhaps start a breeze
who knows (if I'm still alive)
Dog gone at the time,
it's 10:59
No more breeze
No more sneeze
for me it's "dream and wheeze"
At 10:59
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2 comments:
Interesting! Almost Seussian but with a hard edge. Kind of like Mike's Hard Lemonade. What inspired this one?
Kind Sir. I find myself of late more and more like my dear, dear friend Jasper Thelonious Speidmeister, da Thoid. He is always (and I might add, aptly so) to remember just what is important in life (I suppose I can take a few things to seriously from time to time).
You see, Summer is upon us, and I, in the Fall of my life, yet again think about just how I am "living" said life.
These thoughts seem to take me more and more from keyboard and to my handlbars (just like this eve...out at noon and not back until OH DARK THOITY).
My inspiration was, simply put, expediency...to write something worthy of putting the eye to in a matter of minutes (a sort of "minuet" of the written word).
So you see, my good man, I must come to grips with the fact that I am living, and living well, whether my hands are affixed to a keyboard, a shutter, or a throttle (even though the throttle sure seems more like living than when pounding the keybard).
And yes, I was thinking of Seusse at the time, for what better way to "fritter away a stolen moment at the keyboard" than to emulate a master of rot (and I think, probably, rot is the only thing one can crank out when the limit of his devotion to the pencraft is to try and write something within 10 minutes - a worthwhile excercise, by the way. Recommend it highly. I think I'll try and emulate Michael du Moor next time.
I'll write something about the deplorable state of capitalism in decay - call it something like "Dick-OH", or "Why I began to hate spend-thrift capitalists and learned to love Foible Swarming".
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