Zingers

Like musical notes on a staff
Sit birds in an orderly manner
While below their tiny feet
Whiz voltage of uncounted measure

Calmly I type out my prose
While power is soaring nearby
Plastic protecting small hands
From shocking me to a quick fry

Inside my brain spin strange thoughts
Dangerous if not packaged well
Keep my mouth shut, all to myself
Don't tell them all go to hell

Once all the power is loosed
Once the words pour from me sharp
Sparks fly so high and burn hot
Hurt zings straight to their soft heart