The Tumble Drier
I’m not sure if the humour comes across enough in this. I’m a bit too close.
I liked the idea of my mind being like a tumble drier with scintillating thoughts as bright sparks being swept around and joining in new ways. I liked the idea of them chuckling and being naughty. I liked the idea that when you get them to slow down enough to make into words you can never fully capture their brilliance. The black and white symbols are so much less than the brilliant flashes.
If only I could encapsulate the firework display inside my skull and translate them into symbols that glittered and spat their sparkly fire.
I’d change the world.
The Tumble Drier
There’s a tumble drier churning in my head.
It’s tumbling the sparks that are my ideas.
If there was a window in my skull you’d see
Blue and yellow electric flashes of electricity
Spinning,
Falling,
Endlessly,
Like the swirling of the sea.
They swirl and flash
As on my skull they bash
Knocking sense
Into my brain
So dense
That it feels
No pain.
It’s a washing machine
Geared to cleaning up the sparks
So that they can see
To join themselves
For further larks.
As they tumble through the space inside my head
They chuckle as they fall
And join together in endless new ways
Like children giggling in a school.
I have to capture them
And make them stand still
So I can record in symbols
And get my fill.
Sometimes they spin like a hurricane
And light up my eyes with an inner firework display,
Generating emotions and dreams, anger and fury,
And conjure up dragons to slay.
These are those bright sparks
Reduced to black and white
No longer shiny bright
But still lighting up the dark
And sometimes giving me a fright.
There’s a tumble drier churning in my head.
It’s tumbling the sparks that are my ideas.
If there was a window in my skull you’d see
Blue and yellow electric flashes of electricity
Spinning,
Falling,
Endlessly,
Like the swirling of the sea.
Opher 5.9.2015