With blurred vision in my one eye,
on this cold winter afternoon
I trace the course of a blue-black fly
in my small kitchen. Pretty soon
my boredom gets the best of me.
Once I eat a macaroon
I rise to make some jasmine tea
and wonder why I allow this bug
(who does not share my philosophy)
to sit there resting on my mug.
I do not know what's in his head,
but think he must be awfully smug,
so I get up and leave. Instead
of drinking tea I go to bed.
"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!"
The clock dissolves
into a thin gray hum,
a thought forgetting
what it meant to become.
Shadows rearrange themselves
along the wall~
slow creatures
crawling toward a purpose
they never reach.
A single particle of dust
drifts past my face,
glowing like a tiny planet
that has lost its orbit
and doesn’t mind.
The room tilts slightly,
as if time has grown tired
of holding itself upright~
the hours sliding loose.
Boredom kills you slowly, piece by piece, and bite by bite. Boredom waits circling slowly, round and round, like a vulture waiting for its next meal.
It’s Saturday night and I’m at home
I’ve been sitting for a while, alone
my hair is a mess, I’m barely dressed, it’s been a long week of nothing but stress.
I hear the doorbell; I walk downstairs (this poor delivery driver is going to catch me, unawares).
Just my luck, he’s a curtained Zeus, he chews his gum and looks bemused at this mess before him.
Crippled with shame, I have myself to blame, climbing the stairs in my Era’s t shirt (my stomach starts to hurt).
It’s Saturday night and they’re all so excited
to go to that party, to which I wasn’t invited for whatever reason. Guess it’s just not my season. I tried all I could, I texted them all but they just can’t fit me in, doesn’t mean it doesn’t sting.
It’s Saturday night and they’re just too tired, to have to see me, they must be inspired. Guess I’ll try again next week; to myself I’ll speak.
It’s Saturday night, but nearly the morning
I’ve spent the last few hours, just yawning.
What a fun weekend!
Can’t wait to do it all again.
bright
colorful, dramatic
dazzling, beaming, gleaming
artwork, sunlight, uniform, lecture
boring, jading, tiring
stale, stodgy
dull
I have a jack daniel's
And a pack of cigarettes labeled boredom
On my table.
Waiting is.
The most random pile of dishrags.
Follicles of hair splitting.
Nothing moving,
Just deep, impatient sensations.
Waiting is someone similar to me.
Dragging around a laundry basket all the time,
And it’s a horrible thing,
All the clothes you tried to donate or toss.
Follicles splitting.
Spit spraying at the blank wall.
The dishrags come to life in a weird way.
Wagging their tails excitedly.
Waiting is…
Dripping, drooping cheeks that were fine an hour ago.
Then they called out my name.
And all those weird associations were weird and made me lonely, yet dreamy.
Waiting always bubbles up to the surface sometime.
For all the others too.
Childlike innocence free of filters
expressing raw emotions of joy anger boredom
society's norms soon to censure
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Boredom hits me
Fatigue won’t quit me
I’m stuck at work
I’m going berserk
My boss ain’t here
The coast is clear
But I gotta sit tight
I think of rhymes to write
My mind takes flight
As I sit by the light
Processing information
Looking for inspiration
Should I write about clouds?
Or getting lost in the crowd
Or growing up in the slums
Now I’m twiddling my thumbs
I wait for time to pass
I write some more pizzazz
But I’m still really bored
I’m about to hit the floor
A question I wanna forget
Is it 5 o clock yet?
I sigh in one breath
Boredom feels like death
Once upon a time long gone …
The reigning queen let out a yawn,
And stood up from her regal throne
To trample down the hall alone
She ripped the crown from out her hair
And flung it out the window there,
It tumbled down the castle wall …
No knight or king did hear it fall
And off the ground it did bounce
The crown rolled out into a flounce,
Tumbling down into the moat
And thankfully it did not float
A queen no more and yet she smiled
Chuckling, whooping and skipping wild,
Saying goodbye to the castle rafter …
She'd found her happily ever after.
civilrights/votingrights/democracyreform
update on communication of opinion with senator warren
constitutional means and measure as provided in description of property
antitrust boredom
petrol
the contemporary lobbying for additional police
in policy writing equates
to the value of ignition of petrol
rather than the clerical error correction
of a homeless person becoming american
that prepaid property of the citizen is in trial
as evidence at the moment
exiting a sealed indictment for all
of those who accepted the transaction
ill gotten gains
from the ill in the streets
knowingly watching americans die
while issuance of wealth was described
in due process
allowance of interpretation of placement
of individual case by case of medical need
present day has concluded process of intelligent quotient ability
of laws to enforce death certificates as an economic
recovery interest in the mortality of exposure sector
of mathematical finite means for speech.
civil rights as commodity?
#civilrights #commodity #zen #buddhism
Looking for something to brighten my day
Want to run off and play
Preferably free but willing to pay
Something to take me away
Want to feel happy and gay
Maybe have some tea at the local café
Attend an event that is underway
Some candy and a flower bouquet
Eat my full at a delicious buffet
Somewhere quiet I can lay
Go for a ride on a sleigh
Dance with the cabaret
Maybe enjoy a souffle
With a juicy filet
Play some croquet
Shout out hooray
Laugh like a clown
Enjoy every sound
Joy to be found
Playing in the crowd
Shouting out loud
Happy and proud
Standing my ground
Doing things unallowed
Back to work I will go
My day moving slow
Feeling a need to grow
Thinking of good times from long ago
Wisdom was bored, so she left heaven’s serenity
Yaldabaoth was bored, so he formed the world we see
Saklas was bored, so he moulded man like you and me
Samael was bored, so he taught man silver and money
Man was bored, so he worshiped this blind deity
Through this boredom, we forgot heaven’s serenity
Through boredom, we crucified heaven’s lamb on the tree
Through boredom, we beheaded the Prophet Mani
Through boredom, we burned the Cathars despite every plea
Through boredom, we seized and colonised land and sea
Through boredom, we filled all with blinding anxiety
Until Adam will rest his head on the lamb’s tree
I am tired, but wisdom’s touch moved me to write this for you to see
Inspired by Soren Kierkegaard’s argument that boredom is the root of all evil, from his work “Either/Or” Part 1, Chapter 6.
Boredom. B O R E D O M!
It encompasses the brain and swallows it up.
Your vision becomes altered,
you imagination takes control
and the world becomes an unmanageable mountain
of wet clay.
Unable to be delt with, the boredom lies heavy over
your body restricting you of any logical function.
T.V. commercials have newly discovered depth,
and Pop music lyrics swim uncontrollably
through your head: "do you want to ride in my Mercedes boys?"
Gravity becomes magnified,
the weight of your own body is pushing you
through the floor, and the thought
that Elvis may still be alive breaths hope
into your lifeless world.
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