When Will We Learn?

Frustration wells
Like a rampant tide
In the eye of a storm
Pounding the open shore
Tearing at the cliffs
Beating the sea restraints
Unable to move in
Yet not ready to recede and turn
Overwhelming the precipice of self
Unable to spill out
More so constrained
Impinged
Silenced
By the red tape and rigidity of bureaucracy
Where lessons are never learnt
Progress is hindered
And mistakes are made time and time again
And thus my heart is restless
My mind vexed
For tomorrow will just bring the same
As another tear drops to the floor
When will we learn?

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The landtrain set in motion
That some may call traffic
A chain of cars that go nowhere
And make me feel quite sick!

For it’s impossible to move
To get just anywhere
Whilst waiting in the static queue
I’m pulling out my hair

And blasted traffic lights don’t help
Turning from green to red

Ironing Bored Blues

There’s something quite frustrating about ironing
That drives me so terribly mad
The first is that it’s never ending
Verging on what could be described as a fad
But the thing that is really frustrating
Isn’t found in the infinite pile
But in the fact that as soon as the clothes hit our backs
The creases appear with an intent that’s hostile
And give rise to a state that’s depressing
Known well amongst those with an ironing short fuse
Who find such pressing matters incredibly pointless
Otherwise called the ironing bored blues.