Last of the Shenanigans!

There’s a hole in my head

Where thoughts come in

And a machine that whirls them around.

There’s a route from my brain to my pen

On page

And on the paper they’re found.

 

I wonder where the thoughts came from

And how

From ether’s cosmic flotsam,

They find a way to penetrate

My mind

And then I have to jot some

 

Notes to take, a word or few,

Flowing ink, that’s how they grew

So fast and so erratic.

Sort them out,

Place just so.

Bloody hell, ecstatic

 

It feels to me

When out they pour,

Knocking, pushing at my door.

Let me out, they seem to say,

We’re stuck. Your brain’s no place to play.

Put us, black upon the white,

We’ll dance around

And so, take flight

Until we’re tired

And rest, just right.