Typing, Hacking, Thinking – Smokin’ Hot

Typing, hacking, thinking – Smokin’ hot
Typing your best to empty all thought

Pouring your soul into force upon the keys
Your woman walks past with a dress above the knees

Now you can’t think or type or stammer straight
The hell with with deadlines – this one’s gonna be late

You pray to the spirits of procastrination or whatever you think of
Burn this project right now, sacrifice it in the name of love

It’s Not Supposed To Be This Cold

Photo by Travis Rupert on Pexels.com

It’s not supposed to be this cold
Down along the beach
This is Florida after all
We’re out of Jack Frost’s reach
There should be some laws
Made by Washington’s hack’s & fools
To keep the sunshine burning
Or at the minimum, a union rule
Until I get my way
I guess I’ll just have to deal
Donning a parka instead of flip flops
Just know that the struggle is real