Fried Larynx

As my voice hangs halfway between my heart and my head
There's some hefty haggling over how things are said
Heaps of hard fought dealings between my thoughts and feelings
Completely losing the thread, grunt, grown or growl instead

As my heart/head parliament votes a phrase into play
My libido leaps up and lurches into the fray
Like a lower house lobbyist on a hip height hobby horse 
Who insists what I say must let it have its way

Like I'd love to sleep with you but I'm not very tired
Get into your pants but they're not my size, as required
Coffee beans and etchings have never seemed that fetching
To me and my wayward words, off with the bees and birds

 As my poor fried larynx appeases heart, head and hips
There's a brawl 'twixt uvula, glottis, teeth, tongue and lips
Pumping lungs, guts grumbling and my hand's flap fumbling
For a way to display just what I meant to say

Vocal chords imprisoned within a mind/soul schism
Don't be surprised if I may say nothing much today

©Mal Webb 2001