(20 minute poetry)

This day,
what day?
Monday
that day!

On my way,
the pilgrimage to
work,
It is a sacrifice
which I make
five days a week

and two days shall I rest
one more than God,
quite odd
considering we think
that he knew best
or am I mistaken?

If the proof is in the pudding
'let them eat cake'

we need no validation
for this is
occupation
an occupation,
the formulation of a man.

I wear my armour like
a decongestant,
am I not a contestant
sitting out the race?
spitting in the face of
evolution.

and who cares who wins
anyway?


(Wrote this on the way to work and promptly forgot I had) Doh.