This is strange
As I want is to write something
But I'm tired
Yawning away
Schitzo brain
The mind is willing
Pen itching
Fingers twitching
But all the same
I've no desire
To tax my mind.
Which I think you will find
Is actually what I am doing
By trying to sort out
The jumble in my head
Into what you are reading now.
I want to pen something meaningful
Clever, witty
But poetry is just like real life
You cannot be
What you are not
So what I am actually doing
Is killing time.
No more, no less
As my jumble of dirty clothing
Goes round and round
Through the round window
In soapy circles
At my local laundrette,
While penning my worst yet
To while away the boredom.
Still reading? Join me.
Have you given up yet?
Dulwich Poet 15th May 2013
(Sitting in the laundrette, not having a book to read, finished the paper, I got out the notebook...)
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