Words of the Brain

I hate being on the bus. There are multiple reasons for this, and they may become the subject of a future post, but the reasons aren't important right now. What's important is that my hatred of being on the bus forces me to ignore my surroundings and delve deep into my own psyche. It turns out that my psyche is full of epic poetry, among other things, and I have taken to jotting these words of the brain down - these 'brain words', if you will.

I'll reveal my most recent outpouring of 'brain words' in just a moment, but first, here's what Teddy Whittaker of the New Times had to say about it:

'For My Friend, Geoffrey is a work of multiple lines that isn't afraid to tell it like it is. Its powerful sense of restless invention belies a charming simplicity that cannot fail to dazzle and provoke. I give it four Teddies out of five.'

And now, finally, the poem...


For My Friend, Geoffrey

You are long-legged, with knees of knobbliest knoo,
You are long-necked, with hair of yellowy hyoo,
You are long-faced, with eyes of batty blacky bloo,
You are a giraffe, and I have just written a poem about yoo.

I am genuinely thinking of quitting my day job.