The flow of words never arrives smoothly
the ideas in ones head never always shape themselves into lucid sentences -
yet still they come!
Lines from Betjeman's poems fighting with original lines,
colliding; crashing into rambled verse!
Maybe if I just write a few of them down
get them onto a piece of paper; then they'd go away!
I'd be able to make more space in there, some order, some structure -
'though; probably not!
If I clear my head out of all the junk I have in there I'd only be making more room,
for more junk!
Not having a pen and a piece of paper to hand is like a kind of madness to me.
Nothing on which to write all those lines onto -
tends to make me restless,
feeling a little insane,
like having voices in your head
only these voices are poems trying to write themselves,
lines, thoughts, ideas, all going round my head like clothes in a washing machine!
Is it any wonder I can't sleep?
Is it any wonder I can't settle,
with all those ideas going 'round and 'round my head!