And I Really Should be Working

Something I’ve noticed

I always start saying I really should be working

I’m saying that yet again

The essay really needs to get done

But that’s a digression

Why is it that I only feel the urge to think

To indulge in what then seems like useless poetry

A luxury with the then limited constraint of time

Why is it that, when I really have nothing to do

This overwhelming need to produce gibberish

Never seems to strike me

 

So is it then just

Yet another way of whiling time

Another way of escaping work

Just when the deadline seems on the horizon

Is that all my muses are?

An easy distraction from the work at hand?

I know I will never agree to that

Am not so frank to ever accept that

But you know what the funny thing is

I have another submission yet again next week

When all I can think of doing

Is putting this up on my blog

When all of last week

In the lazy haze of December

The thought never so much as even crossed my mind!

 

At any rate

I have to admit

It does seem to be an effective distraction

The one time, when life seems disturbingly clear

And the falsity of it all pretentiously laid bare

When priorities suddenly clamour for attention

Demanding to time to be sorted out

Providing yet another brilliant excuse

To procrastinate and keep in abeyance

Life, waiting for the next deadline to be finally lived