Procrastinatus Maximus
Here I am in front of the com,
In the wee hours of ten past four;
Doing nonsense, things redundant,
When my progress is zero for my assignment.
Sighed I have, ten times ten times,
If that sounded confusing, that makes a hundred times;
While the world sleeps, I try to concentrate,
But alas! There’s a bug that irritates.
It sleeps in the day, just like me,
It wakes up at night, all hungry and grumpy;
Longing for food, he finds in me aplenty,
It lands on me, and sucks heartily.
Now I don’t mind for all that matters,
That drop of blood to be food on its platter;
What pisses me off is its ungratefulness,
It leaves with me unbearable itchiness.
So while it rests, bloated with pleasure,
Here I am, with high blood pressure;
Fuming and cursing, finally I surrender,
Looking for a bug which is so much smaller.
Mosquitoes everywhere, you guys beware,
Fly faster, spin more and tread with care;
For none of you I shall spare,
With this little investment in a handyware.
A bug-shocker, I will call the former,
Or ‘Vengeance Bat’, does that sound better?
Whatever the name, its goal remains,
To zap you into charred remains.
Two AA Duracells is sufficient,
To pave your way to oblivion;
Beware! Your day of reckoning is near,
You will perish! Be filled with fear!
Now I realized something on my part,
That I wrote too much about you little farts;
Why do we battle and kill each other,
Can’t you change your diet to something tastier?
I take this initiative to offer a truce,
Accept it and I forget the past bruise;
I truly hope that we are no longer foes,
This is the deal; here it goes:
Wash your damned mouths before you feast,
If you didn’t know, it has bacteria and yeast;
(Maybe not yeast, I just wanted it to rhyme);
But the bacteria, they get me scratching in no time.
I won’t die even if ten of you feasted on me,
But YOU will die when the itch irritates me;
Why make it so hard? We can live in peace,
There’s water in the bathroom, so go ahead please.
While you wash up, try sipping the water,
You’ll find that it actually tastes better;
If you’d like I can add some seasoning,
But help yourself, the detergent’s under the sink.
I guess I should end this string of thoughts,
Before someone finds me a retard of some sort;
See, that’s the problem with everybody,
They judge you before they know you fully.
You see, don’t take the mosquito literally,
It’s a mere metaphor by yours truly;
I speak of people… parasitic people,
On which their foreheads, I hope, will grow a nipple.
So be anything but a parasite,
You might just get a poem on someone’s site;
Dedicated to you and your selfishness,
Which makes others, with you, have no business.
