Genius

Genius

I think I have an undiscovered genius.

I always knew I must be brilliant
At something, anything,
It really doesn't matter what,
But light years better than anyone else.

And now I know.

I am tops
At putting things off;
Not any old things,
But all the things
I hate the most,
For example filling forms,
And darning socks,
Deciphering my mother's letters,
Getting in and out of bed,
Christmas shopping,
Painting ceilings,
Building sheds,
Hugging trees to heal the planet,
Peeling onions,
Punctuating
Spellin',
Swotting up
on Freud and Jung,
Water skiing,
Drowning,
Stripping doors,
Sanding floors
are all things I abhor,
so why waste time,
when I can stuff them
underneath the sofa,
Or better still,
Behind the clock
Beneath the fridge
Or through the window
Beyond the stars
Across the galaxy
Somewhere
No-one in their right mind
Will ever choose to go.

It isn't much to boast of
But that's my special genius.

I could have my own daytime TV show
On Channel Four,
But very big in Mexico,
With teenage floor assistants
Wearing dark glasses
In tiny frames,
All holding stopwatches
And joshing one another,
And I could call it
Something snappy, like,
The Putting Things Off
Until The Time Is Right
And Your Brain Is
Fully Up To Speed
And Hell Freezes Over
And They Offer You
A Load More Money
For a Lot Less Crap
To Get Out Of Bed
Show!

What a blast!
Tune in, if you dare,
And get sucked,
Slowly and painfully
Through the screen
Into the mother and father
Of all black holes
Where you get rolled up
Scrunched
And squeezed
through a cosmic
Toothpaste tube
Into a billion zillion
bits of vaporised
Know-nothingness,
And never have to confront
Failure
Or your washing up
ever again.

Then again,
I might not bother.
Some days life is sl-o-o-o-w.