... all this before getting out of bed.
From there we have ...
Cars with loud engines
Trash truck with incessant bells going off
Kids running through the house
Coffee machine perking
Wife asking questions
Kids asking for money
The boss calls saying I need to stay late
It starts to rain
I want to go back to bed
...and how did your Minday morning work out for you?
Ever heard of a thing called a “Monday Morning?”
It is not the start of something new.
It is filled the the groans of students.
The moans of the house that was abandoned at eight.
The cheers of the six year old.
And the slamming of broken laptops.
When everything goes wrong.
The highway is full of crash sights.
The schools full of shuffling feet.
Everyone on edge.
For all they know
This horrid Monday Morning,
Might get worse.
The voice of Monday
Put on Sidney Bachet, 'Blues in thirds ' , 'Blue horizons' ...the sound of Monday is a dragging moan.
if a Monday makes a sound, and no one's there to hear it, does it make a sound at all?
because no one is there to hear!
everyone is still in Sunday, or looking forward to the immesurable improvement of Tuesday.
A radiator fan belt, freshly installed screeches incipidely, struggling to cling to the drive wheel. a messy symbol of friction. who isn't a screeching a fan belt on Mondays?
a door hinge the has never been oiled, so worn, that a drop will probably dissolve the metal.
an ambulance rushing to save someone,
who's day is ruined.
oh, to be hospitalized on a Monday...
Neighbors fighting, even before the sun came up, their chairs dragging incesently above like a herd of elephants in must.
An asphalt grader, grinding the pavement, kicking up dust, and failing to conceal the cancerous mess under the rubber skirt.
Sidney, oh Sidney, why must the blues be in thirds? tell the clarinet I'm going to cry.
the earphone plug breaks, just as well, it's too noisy to hear a thing with all that Monday going
Sound Fur Elise
Alarm clock rings, sound fur Elise
6 days left of work let me sleep
Snooze snooze open eyes I peek
It's passed my time I see
Snooze Snooze once again sound fur Elise
Slow moves of dreams ugh I drag my feet
85 hours last week body still is weak
Shift in gear positive thoughts success 4 keeps
13 hours left then I'll be back home to sleep
It's Monday Monday curse words bleep
Must do it no choice what I sow I reep
Until tomorrow again wake me sound fur Elise
Wretched squealing and gnarling of last week's nails on a plated glass. Thinking the weekend would end your weakness you hear the unbound squalling of a bell hammered; the ringing of what's unknown to come. As if Harold Ramis fulfilled a role as your own personal Ba'aliel. Two more days to the hump and four more to the fall. Then you can have a mimosa with those guys or gals chained to the same insufferable fate. Not far behind the aired screams of the clock chimes. Louder it grows, closer and closer.
the sound of an alarm that fills the air like the screeching sound of nails on a choke board. the sound of honking that travels down the roads and reminds you that the weekend is gone along with your peace of mind.
it sounds like the constant nagging of a 3 year old, repeatedly.
Monday sounds like the endless sound of life never stopping.
Monday morning sounds like a whip ready to scar my back. I wake up to my alarm and scream, only to realize I’m still asleep; the nightmare continues on like the TV show Friends, never ending and quickly running out of jokes that make only the Gods laugh.
Monday morning sounds like the creeper walking down the same side of the street as you, and you have to move quickly across to the other side of the street, lest you get killed, and show up on the nightly news.
It’s a dangerous world, where Mondays get you in a chokehold, not letting go for fifty years until you retire, too old to feel freedom.