Being bored could save your life
Whether big or small
Every man needs to be bored
Many times through all
Through all the distractions
And paths of dismay
A man will get led onto the wrong path
By the thoughts in his way
These thoughts are no ordinary thoughts
They are evil
They are there to distract you
From what is civil
But being bored sets you free
You gain freedom of imagination
No thought to distract you
And no “bad path” to be made
So for just a small moment,
Let yourself be bored
Don't find anything to disturb you
Just sit there and let your mind explore.
wrote last poem months ago
will not write another so
guess i'll stick with good ol' prose
prosaic from head to toes
if i write anything now
post only me anyhow
no one need read this my trash
algorithms turned to ash
say no more of politics
theology only tricks
you into false contentment
lulls the brain like compliment
dulls the pain of resentment
makes our love hate's complement
wish not to over complain
but ennui's bored me insane
in world prefabricated
all new remains outdated
and what's real is really rare
but fake has millions spare
routine is the only route
for time space life to run out
replace me with a monkey
and you'll save beaucoup money
sorry if self pity's wrong
self regard's just not so strong
seems i've carried on too long
so i'll end this silly song
"I'm bored!" I told my mother
as she stood there washing dishes.
She told me, "Go clean your room,"
but that's not what I wanted to do.
"Momma, that sounds boring—
not much fun at all."
She promptly answered,
"Then vacuum down the hall."
I stomped my foot and shouted,
"No way! Not today!
I want a new adventure!"
How can it be, with all her years,
she has no great ideas?
So I asked her one more time
for something fun to do.
Craving something more,
I said once again,
"I want a new adventure!"
My mother sighed, our conversation over.
Exasperated, she exclaimed,
"I'm not your cruise director!"
Scrolling for hours...
"What to do next?"
"I'm bored."
"Life's a mess."
How can that be true?
They call life no fun.
They experience boredom
when the journey has just begun.
Just ask the dreamer,
the thirst to fly.
He sees a lot in bed,
wants to see all of it
before his soul's dead.
It's hard for many
to lock their legs,
'cause the magnetic world
tries hard to attract.
Some eyes broaden
when they hear "boredom."
In this magical world,
it still exists—
they find that dumb.
How are you relaxed?
Don't you see yourselves enjoying everything
ten years ahead?
Why don't you try hard?
Live the world with fun—
the ultimate MasterCard.
You know a man is Bored of Peace
When he chooses to unleash the beast
Of weapons and military might
And celebrates it all with a UFC fight.
You know a man is Bored of Peace
When his hands look like he’s got a disease
When he falls asleep during the day
And says “obeying me is the only way.”
You know a man is Bored of Peace
When the cost of fuels increase
And he really couldn’t care less
That you and your family have so much stress.
When a man uses his position in office
So he and his family can increase their profits
It’s corruption at its highest to say the least
Then you know that man is Bored of Peace.
*President Trump established the Board of Peace to promote world peace shortly before he and Prime Minister Netanyahu launched attacks on Iran and Lebanon respectively.
Do bees feel upset like us,
Or feel anxious when their brain perceives a threat?
Do they feel bored when making honey,
Or feel tired for being too active?
Does silence press upon their wings,
Like fear of not arriving alive?
Do they notice absence gently,
A missing rhythm in the air?
Do they search the dusk for someone,
And find nobody there?
"Do they?"
Is all I ask.
What is on the other side? “He asks
Well I say, “There might be a loch, or a waterfall, or nothing at all.”
We won’t know until we get to the other side.
“I don’t want to go to the other side!” He says
“I want to go home”
“No we’re halfway there. We’re going to the other side”
“I’m thirsty” he screams
“I’m hungry” He wails
“I’m tired” He cries
“There’s a cafe at the other side”
“Cool” he states as he runs off to the other side.
Bake a cake or shake a snake
AP: Honorable Mention 2026
This town is getting old
It lays to rest at dusk and rises after dawn
It gets quiet
The trees may speak but have nothing to say
They just breathe a sigh of exhaustion
The grass yawns
There’s not much to do in this old town
It’s hardly ever awake
It might as well stay in bed.
when I need an escapade, an adventure, a caper, a lark
I remember that I have friends who can see in the dark
I call them up and meet them for breakfast, lunch or tea
remembering there used to be a whimsical, funny, lovely me.
Everyman might be the regular man on the street.
I have met him too, and his stories are extremely neat.
We can sit in an alley and converse by the hour.
Getting rid of boredom for myself is my superpower.
I tried being bored once,
I fell asleep
and dreamt that I was bored.
I lounge about, walk about, crocking
a hymn of praise or two.
Heaven, is heavenly,
or is it a fake and fanciful heaven
created
for fanciful and fake poets?
I sit by a sweetly flowing stream'
a host of gay vividly colorful flowers
speak to me
in the high-falutin language
of antique songs.
It is wonderfully wonderful,
yet I am bored,
bored with the supranormal
and the ethereal nature of nature,
bored with the endless beauty
of all that I encounter.
The loveliest woman I have ever seen
visits my moody meditations,
she tells me to write and to stop ing,
but I just cannot,
for I cannot pen the transcendental
or sublime, without mentioning the ugly,
and the dark history of suffering
and there is no dark suffering here,
not even a sniffle or a tear.
I am bored, not unhappy only bored,
and I want to go back
to my shatty life and write
about my misery and yours.
I figure heaven is not a location
but a state of mind,
and that my heaven in reality
is a place
where demons and angel's battle
for the right to fight on -
forever.
Care and love my tomcats from me desire,
As my neglect leaps from pan into fire.
They wait in silence till their patience tires.
There once was a pirate who was bored
so she went for a walk and explored.
A patch on both eyes
and no warning cries
she walked herself straight off of board.
I haven't got a university degree,
My poems, are what I think, just me!
There are no meanings hidden in the words, what I write I hope makes the meaning clear,
They show my thoughts, my dreams and the things that I fear.
I listened to a poetry show, where people read out rambling poems, with hidden meanings and long lines of so called prose,
I was bored, they meant nothing to me I guess, I suppose I'm just simple, it makes my ignorance clearly show,
The host of the show got very excited and went on about what the poem meant,
But as I am a simple man, I write for enjoyment and for me, so I am going to carry on, if you like my poems or not I am very content.
So you read your stanza's and poems with a set amount of lines,
And if you read mine and like them, that's great, but it doesn't matter if you don't because they are just mine!!
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