Ceiling Fan
By: Babawilly
- A three tongued monster
swivelling at the mouth
spits out noise and dust
And a sweet ill wind
- Like a capsized helicopter
crashed through our zinc roof
with engines still running
This fan in our ceiling
- On the first of october
Each blade was a big river
Switch on and behold
The blurred circle of unity
- People, fear this great fan
That over hangs your life
For what if it drops
While you sleep on your mat
- Those blades could disentangle
and like a spear strike your head
You might celebrate a goal scored
And loose all your fingers
- On the twelfth day of June
each blade was a big tribe
Switch on and behold
The blurred circle of confusion
- It's better on a table
with all blades safe in prison
with that strange neck rotating
Spreading goodness to all
- Oh for a walk in the fields
Where fans from heaven do blow
The rain and sun, works wonders on the soul
And heralds a bright new day
© April 2001 - Babawilly
Guides