3 February 2013
The Opuss Effect is setting on in;
Once again I find within
My internal narrative is nattering in verse,
I thought 'It ain't that bad, it could be worse.'
Yet the rhyming and timing grew frantic and hard,
I'm just wee old me, I'm in no way the Bard !
There's only so many words that I know
And the monster gets angry if I get nothing to go
With purple and orange and things such as that,
My cranium's like the playground of Cat in the Hat!
I even tried to make a mental to-do list
But a trail of uncertainties which babbled and hissed
Such things as 'Epithalamium! Now try and rhyme
That long winding noun with a synonym for time!'
Held sway over consciousness, as ruthless as Stalin,
Not shooting or maiming but bashing my all in
As challenge after challenge rears its ugly head,
'Til the din is so much I've to retire to bed.
A pill would be great if there's such a thing
As a cure for the onset of Opussing.
The Opuss Effect • Opuss № I