Cranial Strainial
I am paging through the vellum of my silly cerebellum,
In pursuit of some astute and cutesy cue –
I am patterning some patter from the matted-old grey matter,
But my gloomy ruminations will not glue.
I am brooding on a doodle from my stewed and moody noodle,
But although my lights are on, my wits are dim.
I am knocking on my noggin for a logarithmic login,
But my lingo isn’t bingo-ing with vim.
When I try to work the quarry of my murky upper-storey,
All the nuggets are a slug of IOUs –
Still I hope my troubleshooter will reboot my meat-computer,
But my scrutinising loosens only screws.
And for all I poke and probe at my affront to frontal lobes,
I am summoning no summit for my sums –
All my neurons are neurotic, and my id is idiotic,
And my humble-head humdinger barely hums.
