Insomniata

Why DO I write so frickin’ much?

Why DO I write so frickin’ much?
I CANnot say, I cannot say
Why WON’T the words leave me alone?
There HAS to be a better way

To TURN this madness into fire,
TURN the fire into verse;
TURN my mind off for a while,
LET sleep to my spirit nurse

WHY am I so sleep-bedraggled
WHEN I do not sleep at all?
WILL this writing soon demise me,
ROBbing Peter
TO pay Paul?

Night Musing

I probably should be sleeping.

Cannot Sleep

It’s the middle of night

Funny how the night doesn’t seem to have sides
Only a middle

There used to be some soap opera…
“The Edge of Night”
So, there is that

Why am I awake?
I’m frequently asleep at work
I have this all backwards

I wonder if I could claim jet lag
From driving a 1982 Dodge Omni?
That car can’t even do the speed limit

If you dropped it out of a plane

What was that plane my dad used to fly?
Yeah, that’s right, a “Goony-Bird”
It was a transport plane, I think

The airshow here last week was sure loud
Like when I went to see that
Awful Journey concert

We classical music types should know our limits

Speaking of limits, I wonder
Would reviewing my advance Calculus textbook
Help me get to sleep?

I remember that
For every Delta there is an Epsilon
Except
There’s no Epsilon Airlines

That’s okay, their flight schedule
Would probably be Greek to me
And I’d be standing there
Alone in the airport, thinking

It’s the middle of the night

How Does It Happen

At least I got a good sunrise.

This Fitbit’s an impressive thing
Unless I’ve it misread:
It says I only slept an hour
For all my time in bed

How does it happen to a man
That sleep should him escape?
How can it be that such as me
Should be in such bad shape?

So like this band upon my wrist
I’ll hang around all day;
And uselessly, just point things out
Because I’m built that way

3:22 AM

She can’t get to sleep.

It is 3:22 AM
And she can’t get to sleep:
So she goes to her kitchen
Where, all boxed up in a heap

The Christmas decorations are
That she has long accrued.
She hasn’t even opened them,
She’s not been in the mood.

Deciding, she then opens one
There’s a toy village there:
She puts together all its parts
With noticeable care.

Or, it would be noticed, if
She wasn’t there alone.
This village has been hers since, oh
Before her kids were grown

Or even out of high school;
But, that was some years ago.
She looks at all the tiny lights,
The people, and fake snow —

Remembering the magic of
A world transformed by light:
The music of a heart
That didn’t lie awake at night.

And when the morning came
The house was festive, stem to stern;
Her husband looked at her in wonder
Then with slight concern

“When did you… why do all this?
I would have helped you know.”
“I know,” she told him simply
And then took his hand to show

The people in the village there
Amidst the Christmas lights:
Who still believe and understand
It’s not
Like other
Nights

Classical Conundrum

When I am lost.

Tale of Two Cities

At night I’ll read
When I am lost
And cannot get
A moment’s rest

My mind I’ll feed
While trouble-tossed
And find there, yet
The minutes blessed

And, funny how
I read along
Enthralled clean through
My beating heart

That only now
When I’m not strong
Do I turn to
Great works of art