i live in a constant state
of ignoring deadlines
and instead taking my due dates
with poetry

every excursion leaves me thinking
what a day, what a night
what a thought, what a line
what a moment.

what if i use this or that rhyme?
i find it sublime, i have lost track
of time, but found me in spaces
carved out between lines
the moments between thought
of whats next in my mind
what word would be one of a sort?
i assort them -

they advance. i am weak,
they assemble. these words a worthy match for me
win me over - i rage no war
just wave my flag, surrender once more
we have done this before, a repeat, i am familiar
i know better, but i am a word *****.
self control is out the door
and i let him walk. i hope he runs far away
so my words and i can stew a bit longer.
i don't want it to end. i am tired of talking in numbers.
i am tired of making sense. i just want to play.
lets have a word day. or two, or three, or five.
i can multiply words if you give me the chance
professor, accept my submittance. my poems provide
no wrong answers. no prompt, sit and listen.
maybe its your turn.

I Should be busy
Plans were made
But I'm just not
Feeling capable.
Today.

So today it's;
Muted ringtone
Notifications too!
I'm hiding away.
Feeling miserable.
Coloured blue.

Screen illuminates,
my guilt resonates.
Messages accumulate
I can guarantee their
voices are irate.

In good faith, in honesty,
yesterday I committed.
It was a good day
I was fooled into
believing, misconceiving.


I thought the dark clouds
Had gone away!
I ought to know better!
The nature of this
Smothering beast,
Cannot be tethered.
He loosens his grip
But will never
Fully release.

Time is always something
the procrastinator seeks to borrow.

His most favorite word is naturally,
"Tomorrow."

Still in time.
Or so I thought.
          
           Fooled.
Overwhelmed by an emotion of unwanted desire,
Knowing there’s an island on the other side.

But

Fooled by fear
I drown slowly
In a calm despair.

Today is yesterday's "tomorrow"

Where did it all go?

The real battle, actually has no views
Everyone startle; battlegrounds are no revues
It's hard to separate, when unseen or hidden
Battle of my thoughts, a fight within

I built a mansion, but I'm yet to move in
I built a jet for auction, but it's yet to move me
I'm a volcano, with no eruption
All end in the war within; ending in an option

To do it now, or some other time
Verb is no noun, i never made my action prime
The Battle is disastrous, it leaves my goals in shipwreck
Strolling now or later, I lose the ambitions in a cheap trek

Later is always the war victor, but it's grave
Never again will I take the tour; just doing it - is save
Tomorrow is another day, but it's a bait that annihilate
I will do it later; But I'm late now or I'm now late

- Pastorlee

O timeless sloth, I must with thee abide,
Let it be not to my own destruction.
Another life from me thou must divide,
Say to me t’was of mine own instruction!

I cling desperately to thine branches
I must weather the slings and arrows of
Most untimely sharp commands, and blanches
At my staunch resoluteness thereof.

Cease! Cease! See not the moss amongst my hairs,
Nor my talon-like nails, still, motionless.
Judge not, entwined as thou art in bland affairs
In your gray monuments to boastfulness

For nothing is equal to nothing.
To mime futile work is all but bluffing.