It was something that I’d come to dread
That every thought within my head
would burst from my mouth, as it spoke,
the day the tin foil hats broke.
My Uncle said “What is it son?”
For I had turned quite pale and wan,
my face was screwed up really tight
while my thoughts were picked up by satellite.
“My tin foil hat has broken!” I cried
My Uncle just looked smug and sighed
“Well, Nephew I wouldn’t worry a jot,
with your brain, it’s not going to reveal a lot”.
I had a longing for something that
would keep my thoughts under my hat
My tangled mind, tortured and petty
had spilled its contents like boiling spaghetti.
A tangled jungle of vine and fern,
revealed that I had failed to learn,
my head was empty of meaningful things
but I knew by heart the Lord of the Rings.
Like a boiled egg, my mind was bare
without any useful facts in there,
My Uncle said “Now you have a mission
“you should become a politician”
But still I worried, how could that fly?
When I couldn’t ever tell a lie.
but thankfully, and rather shocking,
a new foil hat was in my Christmas Stocking.
This poem was written for A Guy Called Blokes Challenge, see here:
I have also included the following word prompts:
Today’s prompt: nephew, fern, spaghetti