I blame all this on Brian.
He’s got control you see.
A simple little word mistake
and suddenly he’s me.
A small dyslexic moment,
a tiny misplaced letter,
and suddenly this chap appears
who thinks he can do better.
My brAIn is now beyond control,
I’m really at a loss.
The A and I are juxtaposed,
now BrIAn is the boss.
Yet sometimes when he’s tired,
I’m let out here to read.
Or sketch a little poem /
write a story at top speed
‘Cos all too soon young Brian’s back
a bangin’ on the doors.
My schizophrenic neighbour
is now ripping up the floors.
But I am safe here in my head
so he can have my life.
He can have the bills as well,
and all the other strife.
So now I sit inside my mind,
the décor isn’t bad.
The music’s good, the views they change,
p’raps Brian’s a good lad.
But soon the break is over
and Brian has returned.
He’s realised life is Groundhog Day,
another lesson learned.
So back we swap and Brian, well,
he helps me out a lot.
He keeps me sane, well possibly,
or p’raps I’ve lost the plot…
YOU ARE READING
The Tree of Dreams
PoesíaRandom poetry and the occasional drabble or dribble of other short random thought from the depths my somewhat bemused brain, or possibly Brian if the schizophrenic misspelt pseudo entity that lives up there is up to his old tricks... poems from the...
