A moment of clarity
Stifled creativity plaguing my sanity.
Negativity’s rhyme scheme
Always alters the atmosphere.
Writer’s block obscures a slighted right hemisphere.
The brain’s left side is logical, factual
The right side intuitive and creative,
My brain marches - left, right, left, right
All over ink stains and blank spaces.
Navigating these ruts requires emotional dexterity
and my creative muscles have been stiff
So, it’s difficult to write with sincerity.
I can’t just churn it out while I’m burning out
Maybe I should try, I can be quite cynical
Not all creative blocks are easy to lift
Mine weighs one hundred and seventy odd syllables.
Ah, to overcome writer's block by writing about writer's block. A copout if I ever saw one. Enjoy :)
Where anger and grief learn to handle their frustrations
Where your mind sits down and tends to complications…
Where truth and lies stand on equal footing
Where ambitions and doubts do their pulling and pushing
Chaos and calm
The abyss where you can find both,
Today, I said no words
Immaterial and immature
Navigating each other’s boundaries,
coasts and shores.
Redefining what’s commonly referred to as
Requiring understanding and flexibility
Requiring both strength and vulnerability.
Weakness is courage,
when teetering the tightrope
of romantic and platonic.
Insecurity and traumas,
also balance on it.
If and when you fall off,
it is into the chasm.
where balance is no longer required
and perfection is no longer desired.
The fear of letting go.
to tie up loose ends.
The irony of falling,
In a bid to ascend…
A chance to live it again.
To remember it differently.
At a place once overlooked
A reappreciation of life.
Nostalgia, is what we yearn for
moving forward, but looking back.
Striving to recreate a feeling
our present selves may lack.
An inception of missed moments and
Nostalgia is that bridged gap.
Nostalgia is all versions of ourselves
Indulging in those split second, missed seconds.
Sitting in the audience calling for an encore
a sign that we have found
that bliss we search for.
it was found it a long time ago.
Nostalgia told me so.
Is it God or my narcissism
constantly chipping away at my psyche?
Is it God or my narcissism
forever dictating my wrongs and rights?
Am I religious or just conceited?
The question pesters me.
Quite frankly my mind is just depleted.
Let's meet under all of this.
Under all the skin and politics,
under all the hate and animosity
that society is burdened with.
Mother nature got it right
she waterproofed our skin.
She didn't waterproof our minds,
hence the state we're in.
So it's hard to meet below the surface.
Just easier to swim
and thrash about in the waves of our ideological whims.
Front crawling, backstroking
"Go with the flow" kind of doomed.
The odd ones butterfly stroke,
the rest of us are stuck in our cocoons.
Am I meant to just hold my breath?
If I don't then I might just get knees on my neck
or bullets in chest
from a pig with a bulletproof vest
who sees this melanin
as the greatest of threats.
"He was this, he was that"
I don't care, HE WAS BLACK.
unarmed citizen with a cop on his back.
I don't wanna hear the "the all cops aren't bad" raving.
That's like saying "three percent of white people controlled slaving"
but if the other ninety-seven cared we wouldn't need saving,
so George Floyd was dead
way before the cops came in.