******* on dark chocolate,
letting, the lack of sweetness,
liquify across my tastebuds,
I get inspired.

Sipping on red wine,
letting, the lack of sweetness,
pour flavour into a tasteless,
existence,
I get inspired.

There is no such thing as writer's block.

Dog walking, watching her stalking,
with her nose, the fragrant scent of her own kind,
brings it to my attention, the sensitive and mind-
ful, habits of a writer.

Observe it all and let life, go across your tastebuds,
like dark chocolate or red wine, neither of which you
may have a taste for...then write, and live, and live and write.

I didn't call you an author, why would I raise the bar and and unfair
expectations, and frustrations, I named you Writer, so write from
your heart, your vessels your guts, no one can write the way you do,
there may be formulas, but it does not take, magic white or voodoo.

My inspiration.
All that I touch or recoil from,
All that I taste or avoid touching my tongue.
All that I scent or plug my nose. Even all in the Between.
All that I see, that gets in my head see?
All that I hear, other poetry read aloud,
music that makes my heart beat slower or faster,
admiring one who is a lyrical master or even bears
a brand in burnt flesh BARD.

Get inspired it isn't hard, and I am in your face.

There is a God, He loves me and puts me in my place,
He has finesse and as for me and my house...