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

The Beat Making My Diesels Sweat

Photo by YURI MANEI on Pexels.com

The beat making my Diesels sweat
This is beyond my usual scene
Usually I can’t dance without regret
Needing a lot more alcohol & caffeine
Glow sticks & the whole lot to lampoon
I can’t live life with digitized crap
Moving my body like an analog buffoon
I need to find a pretty lady to sit upon my lap
I spy one in my dizzied & frazzled state
I could definitely make her my new habit
She’s smiling at my attempt to communicate
My God, I see curves like Jessica Rabbit
I shake my head allowing reality to seep
Good fortune has shined down in this nightlife culture
I straighten my clothes; thinking ‘don’t be a creep’
& I flash the Cheshire grin of a hungry vulture