- Non-Erotic Poetry
- The Postman
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Everyday it gets worse
It never gets better
Running house to house
Getting wet and wetter.
Sometimes in the cold
Or in a snow storm
Can't see too good
Can't get too warm.
What about the heat
As the sun cooks the skin
You'd rather be nude
And wear only a grin.
Every step I take
A dog will hide and wait
Ready to take a chunk
Or make my leg it's mate.
The people just don't know
Only there to complain
I smile like a fool
But disgruntled in the brain.
In the lobby they gather
Like an angry mob
They think life is perfect
but I hate my job.
I hate my job
I hate my life
I hate my boss
I hate my wife.
I hate my job
I hate my jeep
I hate my house
I hate my keep.
I hate my job
I hate my race
I hate my religion
I hate my face.
I hate my job
I hate my clothes
I hate my highs
I hate my lows.
Hey it is not all bad
I am happy to say
I like that I am off
Each President's Day.
- COMMENTS
Anonymousalmost 20 years agoMuch better to express the woes of postal life in a poem over going postal!!!
annaswirlsabout 20 years agoyeah presidents day is great except the kids are home from school--- not that I dont love them or anything......but....
