Ideas Alive

That light has gone on again,

What use to furiously blink flashing red

Off cold it's been, now steady glowing upon my head,

An idea burning so hot it must be handled quickly

No room or cage to contain in brain

One must carry out simply before drowning

In a sea of forgetful shame.

Wind the gears Igor, my helping hands

Lightning striking pen prints words to life

Then it's alive, it stands a monster of a write,

Creature by creativity, I played writer from what I know

Some say it was wrong but intentions were right

Losing control wicked thing must go,

Smells of failure on the wind by the fire at night.

I think once more desperate and strange

In such sweet success I could let gripping failure hold,

The light again flickers and naturally I change the bulb.