Drive Train of a Poem

Drivetrain of a Poem During lapsed conscious hours, I have often wondered and received mutable counsel in varied tongues– at times uninvited. This time it was virtual dream. I sensed caress of a presence while my pen was stringing strewn patches of similes, metaphors, rhythm and rhyme. “I am watching you from a vantage point and your skull is no barrier.” He went on: “I see the marauding lines on the ridges of your mind, It seems you are a struggling versifier. Creation is neither forethought nor a whim. It hails from the sky and gains access through the pores of skull. Mind gets hacked and moves to a different zone. Chatter picks up in the synapses seeking untapped cerebral sectors. Trivial transmitters are kept at bay. Brain hoes banal growth: new thinking sprouts. Frontal inhibitions are banished. All gates fling open. No more sentries! No checkpoints! No fly zone for the critic's megaphone! Unleashed limbic flow of emotions is nourished by a Gamma spike in the brain. There! You pirouette with the lines and feel the Aha moment.