Best Tedium Poems

The curse of verse, at worst subversive,
Cursive, ad lib, tragic,
The means defines scenes, supreme beings let off steam,
Beauty queens daydream of magic.

Sense of place, being part of the tribe,
Strangers for whom, in that moment, we'd die,
Hypnotised by the lies, 
Buy the lies, Buy Buy BUY.

They...

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A Father Clock chimes from a wall in the dining room, refreshing the idle couple that waited.
It was not as if they were reminded of some pressing appointment or some devoted chores that was delegated.
The furniture in the room where they sat idle was ancient...

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So did your cloak and dagger swaggering self-flatter quite sufficiently?
Did you believe your baseless propaganda mantra would diminish me? 
Or that the instagrammed aggression of your engineered passivity would finish me?
There are no lies remain can yet disguise the truth of your proclivities.
That you've corrupted...

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Terminal toxicity
A terrifying takeover on everything tangible, using tactical techniques to trigger temporal turbulence
Taking its toll, its trueness be told through the turmoil trampling and transmuting in silence
Tainted and tantalized by televised thought-crimes as the tumors thrive 
Tarnished by treasonous transmissions
Tongue tied and troubled by...

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The Tedium

The bay of Cascais looks like a mass produced painting,
azure sea, flying seagulls and anchored ships just as 
it was when last time I was here…a sunny day in May.
Ah, this ennui, if clouds would alter a little and don´t be 
so static I...

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Languor, an idle mind’s self-induced rot
When meanings and motivations vanish,
Wants no more, nor wishes, whys nor yet what,
Not so kindles mind whose fires extinguish.

The doom of not-what-so-happens descends
To idle mind, no sin seems so evil
As to be forbidden. A rare soul stands
Up to turn creative...

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A fetid fruit of tedious listless life 
Ye seldom troubled at the dawn of time,  
But under today’s skies ye prevail rife
And plague many poor souls in pink of prime.

If thy hoary hist’ry offers fair hint,
Ye look no old— a few young centuries,
But brisk...

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I’m going to each of my suitemates' rooms. One at a time, methodically. I pause, for dramatic purpose, until I have their full attention. Once I have it, I rushingly, excitedly, breathlessly say, “I’M getting pizza later, for the GAME!” Like a seven year old...

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My palette is empty
after over-busy school
and tense homework.

By the time dark night
staggers onstage, sleep is my 
longed-for, sexy muse.

I’m greedy for sweet, 
numb sleep or perhaps to dream
love-flushed fantasies....

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Sometimes I’ll rouse, in darkest night, to a twilit form, bending over me, so closely we’re sharing the same still air. I never startle, I somehow know, even before I’m completely awake, that it’s not mortal.

This malevolent force stalks time worn halls like disease. It...

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