Rubbish bit

"The Rubbish Bit of Rolled Kayak"

"Asleep! For evening in the bowl of flowers"
Has thrown a fit in leafy bowers —
And hi! We're back with (yes) part nine
Of Comic Relief for bloody hours and hours!

When I awoke I must have been completely pissed
As though I had fallen on the floor and missed
And in my eyes like pestilential pies
My pupils were converging — do you get the gist?

I listened for a bit but felt like Death itself
The night was soundless, just a groaning shelf.
I shouted loud to ease the boredom
The shelf collapsed — so far this year it is the twelfth.

Imperatively "Learn to DIY better!"
I had followed the instructions to the letter,
But I did not intend to have three screws remaining,
So I fed them to my pink red setter.

"The chair of time has but a little way to roll"
Quoth Stephen Hawking, who had achieved his goal
And thus discreetly died, quite unlike Icarus,
Sudden falling off the canoe into a whirlpool.

This verse is just like those which went before
In no way at all — I floundered on the floor
Inebriatedly, devoid of sober sanity
And rolled around in horrid sick and gore.

"So what had happened?" An answer, please!
I contemplated, remembering swarms of bees
That caused my Arctic kayak to capsize;
I thought "I die, and then I'm going to sneeze."