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I'm having a creativity drought
there's nothing here but empty doubt
If I happen to pen a line or two
It probably won't make sense to you
The poetic thoughts that I have had
have all been really freaking bad!
...but I thought I'd drop by and let you know
that I haven't stopped;
I'm just going very very slow...
Hey!  I wish everyone peace and strength, and I hope I'll wake up soon.  Just want you to know I love what you do.
I'm sorry everyone.  My dog was killed and I'm having a real hard time with it.  I didn't plan to just come drop a bunch of poems and leave.  I'm just a bit messed up for the time being.  Just about every ounce of love inside me went to my Molly every day.  Now I'm temporarily lost.
My feelings are true
They are my life's blood spring
but irrelevant.

Couplets and quatrains
or free form self indulgence
It's my time to waste

Five- seven- five lines
stacked to challenge my ego
poor pedestrian.

Here I go again
my ink is not innocent
my soul is tainted

Why do we do it?
What is there to gain from this?
What is the **** point?

I undress my self,
and Adonis, I am not!
better look away

This is what it's like
to expose myself and dare
to pretend it's art.
I feel the urge to apologize for this piece.  I'm not quite sure why. Perhaps I feel like it's classic self indulgence on my part.  Here it is though.  I have to post them all as they come.  It was inspired by a stranger who said, "Your feelings are irrelevant."  It was a random declaration on a forum..It made me write this.
The universe loves you
or it wouldn't have used your eyes
to see itself,
We know it's light
shining through the natural prism
of raindrops;
revealing the spectrum
of primary colors,
but why do you feel the need
to remind us
and spoil the moment?

We know it is
the sound of air filling
a complete vacuum created by intense heat
ten times hotter than the sun.
when negative charged electrons
are carried down by rain
and ice pellets
Why steal the glory?

In your mind prison
of cold gray logic
there is no magic
no color
no joy or inspiration.
Why won't you free yourself,
and enlarge your world?
Don't **** the wide eyed child
inside you.
It started with a passing thought,
and soon became a word,
and then a series of words
that led to action,
and then a series of actions,
that let to an event,
and then a series of events,
that led to a situation,
and then a series or situations,
that led to life,
and then a series of lives,
that led to history
and now it's too late.
That's just the way
it is.
Sometimes it feels like poetry, and some days it feels like an awkward ****** function.  I post them anyway!
Clio, you are part of me.
Euterpe, you are too.
Thalia, you lift me up
when I am feeling blue.
Melpomene, you are close to me
Terpsichore, you were my youth
Erato, touch me secretly
Polymnia, you are truth.
Ourania, comes to me at night
and my soul she does enthrall .
Calliope, I love you most,
but see you least of all.
This poem was inspired by Rosa Aimee Irazarry's, "The Muses".  Thank you Rosa.  I hope you don't mind.
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