All Up in My Spacious
As I lay here quietly in bed, all up in my spacious head, I start to really see,
How the worn wood in this house, can really reach out, its quite flexible you see,
There are alabaster masks of rabbit, and pictures of kittens, none bother me at all,
There are glowing bright bulbs, from back in the day, not quite as old as those books,
Those yellowed paged relics, that share another’s word with me,
There are paintings of goblins, and other various creatures of the night,
As I sit here pondering a faux burglar gives me no fright,
So I sit in this condensed room we should call a cave,
Looking once more around me,
And what do I find but more treasure,
There’s light tight contraptions, and original captions,
There’s bangles of brilliant jadeite, and smooth stone,
Leonard Nimoy stares back at me from his side of the wall,
Seeming only to smile, he looks back with guile, a genius in his own logic I’m sure,
If only If only, I had it down like him, everything wouldn’t make me feel so small,
There’s those cuban cigar coffins chock full of pens and and pencils,
They help me write when I am alone,
And alone here I sit, in this room full of it, whatever that may be,
All I’m doing is describing at what I’m arriving, with my own two eyes,
Sir Austin Powers nods in agreement, to him this treatise is unspoken, yet known,
He is made of cheap plastic, but knows how to be sarcastic, with class
Equestrian helmets gallop forth from the back of the class,
Only to be trodden down, trampled over, an ass,
So I turn to the one thing that has never been blemished, a tiny world made of glass,
I gaze around cautiously through a wooden kaleidoscope, and I get up close and personal with my little loupe,
Twisting and refracting these halls, has given me a new approach,
In seeing all this, and taking it all in,
Will be quite the process, but you know me and those,
We get along fine,
Theres nothing I can’t learn overnight.
