Headache Verse

I cannot write a verse today,

      And so I will not try;

The wheels within’ my cranium

      Are simply on the fly.

I wasn’t out late with the boys,

      A sober life I’ve led;

I haven’t smoked too much today –

      Gee whizz but what a head!

My head is full of aeroplanes,

      All buzzing fit to kill;

They’re rushing through the biting air,

      I cannot keep them still.

And yet there is a pressure, too,

      That feels like solid lead;

How can one write and feel like this?

      Gee whizz, but what a head!

And so I’ll have to skip today,

      Will have to drop my verse

Until I feel in shape again –

      I never could feel worse.     

For, should I write, ‘twould be some stuff

      That would be better dead;.

And so I will not write at all –

      Gee whizz but what a head!

And when you’ve seen in days gone by,

      Poor verse from off my pen,

Or when you see in days to come,

      Rank poetry again,

You’ll know I’ve had an aching brow,

      A coco filled with lead;

Which is the only trouble now –

      Gee whizz but what a head!

Sept. 9. ‘10