Ballad of a Procrastinator



Wandering to and fro trying to find

some legitimate reason to avert my eyes

from the holy grail, the essential key

that will lead to a future of eternal ecstasy.


I grovel. I squirm. I ceaselessly burn with a covert

hunger enshrouded with germs.

Germs that sicken,

Germs that roast,

Germs that show symptoms that

hit right at home

Yet time is short and no one has complied

with my screams for relief

and just a little more time.


I have always  been a good student.

Quite studious.

So astute.

In the realms of mathematics,


and theoretical things.

Yet no book or problem has prepared me,

for this incredible brandishing of emotional needs.

The presence of doubt.

The crushing fear.

Or quite simply the teeter-tottering

emotions of being revered.


This puzzlingly daunting need to waste

such succulent knowledge I have yet to taste

while droves of student mentally climb

I unconsciously, cowardly waste my time.


this poem is testament to my wasteful ways

each night my mind wanders through a hazy daze

in times quite pressing and short of time

I continuously, intelligently




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