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I sent my senses
out across the galaxy...
From the farthest corners
to highest peaks
to deepest caverns
I sent my defences
in the other direction
knocking walls
between thoughts, feelings, reveries
rummaging through memories

The squads returned empty
having wreaked havoc
inside and out

In the meantime
inspiration called, and left
appalled  
to find me absent.

A.
7.12.18
#truestory
#missedcalls
Writers life, inspiration
Nothing. Idea...Nothing.
No words. Too many words. Not enough words.
Never enough words.
Lacking. Empty. Blank.
Lacking. Empty. Dull?
Bland. Uninteresting.
Blocked.
No Creativity.
No Talent.
No Motivation.
It's the desert
It's where it burns
My excellence in this fire
It mopes in harsh sunlight
A ray of creativity
Or a farce
A streak of diminutive immediacy
This writing is a travesty
My talent lay inside somewhere
Everything I write feels cold and bare
The message explicit and the word of mine known
The stories I tell as illuminating as the metronome
Forcing rhymes for it to make sense
My creative intellect the only expense
My sense of pride with every poem
"This is the one, this'll show 'em!"
But it won't.

A poem dipped in shadow
A poem marked in sunlight
My stories told in sorrow
Accommodations from the tallest heights
Every word is a sour scourge
Of a potent thought I meant to purge
Instead let it rest on this keyboard
And add it to my growing hoard
Poems that are lost in thought
Aimless yammering of a poet in denial
"I don't feel very inspired"
This could take awhile
And it will.
Aghubbs Dec 1
To describe, It’s a block in my head
Making all my thoughts blank.
I don’t know how to deal with it
And I have myself to thank.

I would try to write a song, but
My head is a desert plain.
This isn’t a very good way
To have a claim to fame.

Rumble, rumble, I hear them say,
“You shall not escape”
And these stones keep their way,
And bend me out of shape.

The shifty sands of my brain
Grinds these stones to grains,
But the tall scape, my desert plains
Are set to keep, contain

Clear in my head, like a cloudless sky
I see these stones create
A wall to keep these questions why
Locked behind the gate.

Slowly, slowly we march along,
The future is unknown
To this tune we sing a song,
For I am not alone.

I hear the buzzing in my ears,
The blocks have been demolished.
For when you lose your hopes and fears, you could be astonished.

That’s the end, I wish you well,
I hope this means a lot
For writing about your problems
Can bring you into thought

Hip, hop, as we walk along
Skip, trot, as we move strong.
Writing this has cleared my block,
I thank you guys for that,
I shall write along on this writing walk,
(Curiosity killed the cat)
Sebastian Nov 16
He dreams, he dreams
Of creating
Every night,
Yet he wakes up
In the desert
Every morning.

He dreams of putting
Soft impressions,
Wild emotions,
Beautiful concoctions
Into paper;
Yet he wakes up
Hands tied,
Pitch-black,
Every morning.

He dreams of his heart
Sifting through his chest
Into blank pieces of paper
That get flooded in deep red;
And a heartfelt tune
Comes gushing out his soul,
Making his own guts grow giddy
While he paints trees on the road;
Yet he wakes up
Lips heavy,
Sight blurry,
Heart wary,
Every morning.

He dreams of walking down
The river bank,
Shapes and colours flying past,
While a haunted boat
Projects its mast;
Blue and yellow sensations
Make him tread through his vibrations
While he scribbles something down,
Eyes and ears fixed on the ground;
Yet he wakes up
Full of doubt,
Full of circular
Pointless thoughts,
Full of resistance
And nobody's assistance
Every
*******
Morning.
JJ Inda Nov 15
Old New York stared back -resolute,
as I tried to write.
Every line seemed trite.
A scribble here,
A doodle there,
The paper was pale with frustration
And my hands were distraught with tension;
couldn't write a decent line.
Not even after a few glasses of wine.
I love the city and how nothing stops moving,
but perhaps
It moved too fast.
First time visiting, found it impossible to write.
Is hard to sleep when the mind keeps screaming
Instead of dreaming it's choosing to blur the reality a little more
Brimming with shoulds and should nots
Couldn't and could've been
But we would not succumb
Replaying the same memory of the second defeat so we don't morph into an headless hero
Ones and zeroes bounce restless in relentless persuite of the truth
You're a hero even if your greatest feat is not flinging yourself off the cliff
Everyone wants to fly but once in sky
You'll be dying to land and you land too hard you die
You're trying too hard you're not trying hard enough
Which one is it, do we take the next step of giveup
The next step is breathing
So vote maybe?
But it isn't so bad if you look closely
We're not alone but a bit lonely
In a crowd going about discredited the happening
Cutting off the threads, we can't move we're just dangling
The one thing, out if pills of sanity
Spring from attachment
We now have chose between two addictions
We'd rather be free and starve than be behind bars
So we let go
We exist at extremes
They exist in middle
We meet twice everytime
Graze by each other
A bit of refill of regret
A living reminder
We can't sleep
Can't shake the fright
The voices are back in the house
They're looking for a fight
We might let them win this time
InsertPenName Oct 27
How do we explain a near death experience
Especially when it was the first fresh breath we took
How to explain light
When dark is all that’s ever know
How do you turn to blasphemy
When ***’s light directly shines
And enlighten the most important movement of one’s life
How do we even begin to explain
When we died for the last time
Still we can try borrowing quotes
And metaphors, rhymes and tinker of words
Though they will be as useful as trying to eat fire and sip rocks
But how do you stitch a soul into something
When you’ve only known hollow inside
This was how it was
When we saw them for the first time
You don’t realize drowning
Till you touch the surface for the first time
It was a dance slow and steady
Our beings so close even air changed it path
Yet so far way, we couldn’t have been further apart
It was was that time when time didn’t exist
when blood came easy
And breath came harsh
How do we explain them
Without tassing every sorry excuse for a phrase
Into the river in despair
Full of more soul than soulful
And holding more sorrow
Than a broken something in middle of the most beautiful
...One thing
The sole living evidence that *** existed
And a sweet sting that The devil is not too far behind
For something so divine cannot exist without
Existence exiting itself
A faithful service, a conspiracy between coincidence and fate
Masters of talking to much and saying nothing
While being too much and existing nowhere
Who bear more meaning than meaning of meaning itself
And holds less meaning that the word iqwbefbl
This is the most accurate description of the time
We saw, when the heart of stone spared a beat
For the first time
And the last time
Erase from memory
sky Oct 30
The pen from my hand, now on the ground.
It rolls, it runs, it leaves.
The words from my mind, the ones meant for my paper, are gone.
They've fallen as well, they ran away.
Blank is my mind
gone are my words.
Fallen is the pen
the depths of which it has ventured through in the past
are now a thing
of the past.
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