Who wakes up in the middle of the night.
The one who goes downstairs
Because they cannot sleep.
The one who has the midnight snack.
The one who doesn’t want to disturb the others sleep.
Yet, this morning I find myself down here
Head throbbing.
Stomach growling
And totally
Indecisive!
I used to think it was funny
when someone tripped and fell on their ass.
Then I saw an old lady
fall smashing her face in the sidewalk.
Society deems it acceptable to laugh at others pain and anguish,
but truly, do you like it when people laugh at you?
Who’s up for some
Poor impulse control?!
Good old fashioned mayhem
Coming up!
What, you thought this was rest and relaxation?
Nope,
We’re in for some rash and reckless behaviour!
Not even food
can be given this claim.
Clothing for certain
even the stretchy things can not compare.
As for the people?
I may like you,
but you definitely do not like me!
My poems come later and later.
The day wears on.
I used to do them
first thing in the morning.
Now, I want to do painting
before I go on my computer.
By that time,
I sometimes forget about my poem.
Posting a list besides the computer
has never worked for me.
I wonder if a phone notification would work better?
It resides in the recesses
avoiding the light
until the right moment
to unfold
and blast across your head
sending you prone
from the unexpected migraine!
Venture of the pickle.
Battered, deep fried, hot.
Maybe slightly spicy.
Definitely burn the roof of your mouth adventure.
The deliciousness may not be worth the pain.
Odd.
Weird.
Strange.
But…
Flavourful.
Appealing.
Fun.
That’s me.
There is something about the smell!
The taste!
The flavour packed in the aroma alone!
Now I want to look up recipes for it.
Too bad I am going out this evening.
I don’t think my friends would appreciate the smell wafting from me.
Visceral voyeruism.
Watching other peoples lives,
living through them
and their experiences.
If only I could do what they did!
By the way,
I finished off the wine.
Saturn's Premier Poet 