Best Philosophyhate Poems
I hate the month of January
Every single day from New Years day
To the 31st day
I hate the month of January
With every fibre of my being
You may say it’s just the January blues
That colours my views
But it’s much deeper than that.
It’s always such a long depressing month
With dreary weather and miserable people
It’s the inevitable aftermath
That follows a joyful Christmas
Its going back to work to the same depressing job
You so happily left behind you on Christmas Eve
It’s the empty bank account
And the look ahead at the five long weeks till payday
Its New Years resolutions and not keeping them
I hate the month of January
From day one, new years day
With it’s reminder of things to come
Another bloody awful year ahead
January fills me with dread
I hate the calendar.
It hangs in the assumption
That something will happen.
Not that it should happen,
Or that it needs to happen,
But it will happen anyway,
No matter what I say.
I hate the calendar,
Not because I fear commitments,
But I despise the thought of obliging myself
To something that doesn’t pertain
To my present state.
Tomorrow can worry about itself;
I have enough on my mind today.
I hate the calendar.
Every day is another tilted red cross.
A vibrant intersection
Of lifelines and deadlines;
Everything I can do
And how long I have to do it.
I most hate the calendar
Because it answers
The question of my mortality.
It screams from every corner
That old adage that now has a new meaning to me:
“Your days are numbered!”
I know I’ll die;
I don’t need a calendar to remind me.
Hate
Is but a bully picking in a little kid
The horrid odor of garbage and death
Noise of a drill in the street or a drunken man cussing
You may say you hate something but to hate makes you Despicable