The Slacker's Tale

So, because I'm late again... I'm writing about being a slacker again. Sorry, I'll try to be better.



A Slacker there once was that was a crash
He came into the classroom full of trash
Coming in, he gave no care of the world
Ragged clothes he wore, he looked half twirl'd
The teacher spoke, repeatedly like sheep
When class starts, it is time for him to sleep
Dozing off was the best method in life;
It was the only way to get through rife
Snoring loudly, he disturbed the whole class
The teacher just left him alone in a mass
When class was over, he still was a king
"What's going on?", he'd missed the whole thing
"Just give me the paper," the teacher chased,
So he left the class with a dreadful face (in disgrace)
He spent the next week playing all day long,
Not knowing that he was extremely wrong.
When the night before the project is due,
He still has that paper to do.
He scrambles to gather his stuff for work
At the start, he was not going to shirk
But then he got distracted once again
Fun is the only thing, so he put down his pen
Yet again, back to his real features
Next day, he had nothing for his teachers
And his grade tumbled down in the abyss
He spent the rest of his life just like this,
Giving no care of the world or his time
A slacker, he was, who died in his prime
He will end up being the next waiter,
Serving people who tried hard to get greater
Do not be a lazy, sluggish cracker!
So this was the tale of the slacker


And because I'm two days late... I'll do two poems.
This one I wrote awhile ago... like 10 years or so and updated today.

Dear Grizzly Bear,

Great grey and grizzly brown bear of the wild,
Why do you seem so deadly you could eat a child?
You may be the second larger bear species in the world
But you seem to eat vegetables and haven't hurled.
But it seems that you are only defending your food and territory
Yet there is no need to worry
You sound so alone in your solitary life of wandering
Would you perhaps like to be flandering?
Yet you love to fight and ruble with others if you get the chance.
A loud roar fills the air s you strike with claws and teeth in a dance.
You stand on your feet as a human with all of your 700 pounds
No wonder you make so many sounds.
Even though you were born as bald as a rock in the sun
I like how on your tail you've always got your won little son
He, like you was as helpless as a turtle on its back,
When at first you came out to meet the pack
Your short tail does nothing for you except to make you adorable,
Yet so cute as to attract predators who think your coat is enjoyable
You must stay away from their guns and other dangers if you are to stay in existence
But don't worry, you were made to go the distance.
I hope you survive in your little world
Even if you are a little furled.

Sincerely, Bob Hope
But this ain't no joke