Procrastination

at a whim, well seemingly so
i decided to maybe tidy up
my abandoned ramshackle abode
ive inherited a rug, hence this ode
(i'm making it up as i type!)
I placed it over the dull carpet
A sullen hue of magnolia
Of various shades of greeny ectoplasm
And anything that rhymes with magnolia?
(quickly googles magnolia!)
And ended up in Mongolia
At this point
I have obviously lot the plot
Inspired perhaps
By a little mead
Just a few goblets, not a lot!
(I would say that!)
As i quietly lose the plot (repetition!
but only because i's typoed the word lost
it had no S
So much for poetic finesse!
'lot the plot' indeed
Shame it didn't make any sense
But that's just my feed
Greetings earthlings!
Notice how
Like now
That i changed direction
And how!
Avoiding the 'tidy' situation
As i went on my journey
Of procrastination
I think my landlord
Has now come to terms, or of that ilk
That i'll pay for the rent, but not the silk
And it works just fine
Although i'm not on a salary
that my boudior can define
But paper tigers, come knocking,
Upon my oaken door
As poetic pirouettes
Lay dancing upon the floor
Why do repetitions
repeat themselves so?
Never sure when to come
Never sure where to go
Do you know
Neither do i
And time to finish this makeshift poem
For all logic to defu
by Jemia
not sure what ive written, but unedited. unless of course i edit it!