The poet in me
Can disappear
I’m a combo short
Without his ear
A pretender’s left
And here comes panic
Without my Muse
I get quite frantic
And chaos crowds
The remaining source
Where I’m a knight
Without a horse
A wordsmith here
Unqualified
To pick my brain
Just pushed aside
Robotic words
Will cross my page
The day grows dark
On life’s old stage
Longfellow looks down
Laughter booming
At the tripe I write
So non consuming
My ego falls
My pride goes limp
And one hung low
Is no Chinese ****
So I send prayers
From my antenna
To reach my Muse
My lost breadwinner
How could one think
Him but a myth
I lost my flow
I lost my pith
Oh here he comes
With lines exact
I'm me again
My Muse is back
Jan 5, 2011
Jan 5, 2011 at 2:49 PM UTC
The poet in me
Can disappear
I’m a combo short
Without his ear
A pretender’s left
And here comes panic
Without my Muse
I get quite frantic
And chaos crowds
The remaining source
Where I’m a knight
Without a horse
A wordsmith here
Unqualified
To pick my brain
Just pushed aside
Robotic words
Will cross my page
The day grows dark
On life’s old stage
Longfellow looks down
Laughter booming
At the tripe I write
So non consuming
My ego falls
My pride goes limp
And one hung low
Is no Chinese ****
So I send prayers
From my antenna
To reach my Muse
My lost breadwinner
How could one think
Him but a myth
I lost my flow
I lost my pith
Oh here he comes
With lines exact
I'm me again
My Muse is back
Copyright Louis Brown
