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Conjolted Poetry

Conjolted Poetry

Friday, 21 February 2014

Loud sirens.

Thoughts swirl round in my head,
loud as rainbow coloured sirens,
They lark all over my mind like cops-
around the block, working off the clock.

Sometimes they're toe to toe as if namaz,
I often fail to sleep, it's like jihad.
ayeh without them playing their part,
I would have no use for my Natraj.

And late night before I sleep,
my thoughts clink like machines,
I call it processing; my mind's a factory,
piecing things together so it can guide me.

When it's time for me to sleep,
they bleat like furry sheep,
to help countdown till I shutdown,
then I levitate far away into unknown.

During the day, I have more control
I manipulate them and make music,
I sail far away from rugged coast
on speed boats listening to waves.

when I'm Idle, they bring me turmoil.
and I can't wrap them up into silk foil.
When beautiful, I display them like fossil.
all in all, I'm glad they spoil me.

They can rule me all they want,
as long as they get me where I want.

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