Absent Minded
Speaking of parabolas
The boring sun rises to shine
Mundanely on the uninspired flowers
Lacking the motivation
To bloom
The yawning clouds
Stretch above
Sleeping fields of
Intense less boredoms
And the cute birds chirp
The same way they do
Every other boring day
The pretty butterflies
Lazily flutter along
With nothing better to do
Beautiful boredom
Mechanically carrying itself out
Outside of my plain bedroom window
That contains my sleepless dreams
I methodically think about
The radio plays
The same boring songs
That they play everyday
To entertain the boring population
Who would be overwhelmed by any simplistic change.
The same boring themes of lost love
And rebellion
Suppress any desire I have
To read this page further
Like the desire I have to stop
And smell
The flowers
That still smell the way they did before
Eventually I know
The sun is going to set
Surprise surprise
And the cable box comes to life
Entertaining people mindlessly watching
Subliminal patterns
Flashing before their eyes
Same old
Same old
Same old boring people
Watching the same old stuff
Explosions, murder, and mystery
Whoopty do! No one gives a @#$
Same actors, acting the same
Entertaining comic characters
Drinking and smoking their lives away
Without ever getting sick.
Yup, the same boring routine
Eventually the season molds into the next
Just like watching grass grow
Everyone doing the same thing
Every beautiful day
Living this systematic existence
We dare to compare to the word adventure.
And predictably tomorrow becomes today
Maybe the yawning clouds
Will shrink away
From the burning fields of intense excitement
Because the excited sun can't wait
To shine upon the drops of dew
That just might
Just maybe
Roll off
The vibrant petals
That the beautiful butterflies
Might perchance
Just land upon before
Happily taking off
To flutter along somewhere else.
Mundanely on the uninspired flowers
Lacking the motivation
To bloom
The yawning clouds
Stretch above
Sleeping fields of
Intense less boredoms
And the cute birds chirp
The same way they do
Every other boring day
The pretty butterflies
Lazily flutter along
With nothing better to do
Beautiful boredom
Mechanically carrying itself out
Outside of my plain bedroom window
That contains my sleepless dreams
I methodically think about
The radio plays
The same boring songs
That they play everyday
To entertain the boring population
Who would be overwhelmed by any simplistic change.
The same boring themes of lost love
And rebellion
Suppress any desire I have
To read this page further
Like the desire I have to stop
And smell
The flowers
That still smell the way they did before
Eventually I know
The sun is going to set
Surprise surprise
And the cable box comes to life
Entertaining people mindlessly watching
Subliminal patterns
Flashing before their eyes
Same old
Same old
Same old boring people
Watching the same old stuff
Explosions, murder, and mystery
Whoopty do! No one gives a @#$
Same actors, acting the same
Entertaining comic characters
Drinking and smoking their lives away
Without ever getting sick.
Yup, the same boring routine
Eventually the season molds into the next
Just like watching grass grow
Everyone doing the same thing
Every beautiful day
Living this systematic existence
We dare to compare to the word adventure.
And predictably tomorrow becomes today
Maybe the yawning clouds
Will shrink away
From the burning fields of intense excitement
Because the excited sun can't wait
To shine upon the drops of dew
That just might
Just maybe
Roll off
The vibrant petals
That the beautiful butterflies
Might perchance
Just land upon before
Happily taking off
To flutter along somewhere else.
Comment On This Poem --- Vote for this poem
Speaking of parabolas
Speaking of parabolas
