Boredom is a flat, endless road

with a flat sky

flat grass

and most annoying of all

a flat future

your eyes grope all over the flat land

to be reassured that this is a dream

that Time isn’t just standing still

that the planets are still twirling about

that love making and sheets crumpling are still happening

that bullets are still slowed down by anonymous bodies

that God’s cups of Anger are still filling up

that Angels are still flapping their wings above the forgotten

Boredom has a sleazy, lazy tone that grates and screetches

booooring, boooooring

every syllable stretched to ring endlessly in your ears

and yet you search the flat land, the flat road and the flat sky

hoping that this stillness isn’t you

that there’s still a trace of motion in your stillness

but every movement dips you even quicker to see

that what was is and will always be.


3 thoughts on “Boredom

  1. This is a very compelling poem. I find it especially interesting reading right at this moment (you read my post on surreality, so you probably can appreciate how this would attract me).

    I especially like how you present boredom as a state of mind and a state of being that blocks out the world -and thus makes existence dull and the future without promise. I think that is a very insightful way to think about boredom; it seems like the cure is to know you are bored. In other words, mindfulness and awareness.

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