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When someone asks me to write on a topic of his choice I go blank I get writers cramps.
The words the verse for what it's worth should flow on it's own triggered by a thought or sight or sound.
I can't write for another however hard I try.
I write not for fame or fortune like a sneeze or cough got to get done with it to get relief.
My stock of words are limited my verse even worse but when I am done writing a smile flickers on my lips relief in my heart.
Specs Jun 2018
I'm clammy, I'm cold,
I'm weak at the knees
My eyelids are drooping,
Spine tingles and freezes.
My head is pounding,
My heart is, too,
But I know that I am
Not down with the flu.

The curse of the woman,
Monthly revamps
Dehydration, emotions,
Bloating, and cramps.
I want to go home,
I'm not feeling too well.
I watch the clock,
Waiting for the bell.

Living with this
Is like living in hell.
Take aways  shouldn't  be allowed  to operate.
If they can't provide a safe service
Nadja Sep 2017
Heavy heartbeats
                         Exhausted body. Everything hurts...
          Muscles cramping, tightening, dying
                 Headache pounding. Empty thoughts
Haven’t slept much hurts
G Rog Rogers Sep 2017
Write until your
hand cramps
so you can no longer
hold the pen

Write until the ink runs dry
and you have no more refills

Write if you have to beg paper
maybe then to beg
a little bit more

Write until you get it all down
Then revise re-write re-edit
to get it all done again

Write until you hear
the words you wrote
spoken by someone
who maybe might care

Write by day by night
By shadows and
by candlelight

Never give up
on the will
and the way

Never give up
Your right...

to Write


Martin Narrod Aug 2017
I want to see your blue hole
That little spot of misery that you process alone. I jump out of my bed and come after you, you turn your head, this isn't something new, when I shuck off your clothes, just to get at your little blue hole. Some times we can't escape our peace, we can't find relief, I reopen my eyes just to see your face, my mouth works so hard, my hands beating against your legs, while we clamber back into your bed, and like the graves kept my monsters and thieves, there's not an acronym of you I'm not chasing after hedonistically. I'm that heathen for you that you've been grieving for me. And I'll take you down, to a little place outside of town. Where no one we know has been. Don't forget me. Don't forget please.

Tuesday at sundown we awoke by the beach, on a colorful blanket I'd stole from Walgreens. "I might throw up! I've got bubble gut, and period pains. These mosquito bites are driving me insane! Won't somebody shoot me?! Shoot me in the head?! Make the itching stop?! Take this nausea away?! Just don't forget me....don't forget me!" If it's been twelve hours I'll take my sublingual please. Can we look for rocks? Agates, Jaspers, and things? Maybe some green sea glass we can use to make ourselves some rings? "You're taking off?" No. I'm flying steep. It's the reason my eyes grow wide, the reason I'm sweating. If my imagination is a game, our true romance is my campaign. I'm winning right? I'm getting points, I'm swimming right? These furry limbs are all over me, just when you shout and remind me, to stop moving-

We climb back to the bed, and cuddle instead. I wrap my hands tightly around your head, and whisper soft. I whisper to you, "Please don't leave to go into the little blue hole too." "I'll never leave you." "I'll never leave you, you say." "If we're real lucky we'll die on the same day." I hope it happens that way, just don't die on me first. Otherwise I'll totally go berserk. Don't leave me. Don't leave me. Don't leave me, or forget about me. Don't forget about meee-e-e please.
Janielle Mainly Feb 2015
I'm bleeding,
and it's only natural, only factual,
And I love my body,
even if there're aches and pains,
cramps and stains,
'cause I know my body loves me too,
and my body,  sure loves you.
KT Feb 2015
You have dreams, don’t you?
Every night before you sleep,
I’m sure there is something you long for to have, do or keep.
I know, everyone has plans;
but not everybody is ready to dance.
You see, there are these little things I call cramps.
I don’t know if you got me or not;
I’m talking about those little things behind every evil plot.
You know that time,
when disappointed of the day you go to bed,
and the only thing that can put you to sleep,
are the lies to your soul you have fed?
Them are those cramps,
Them are those damps.
In the morning you get up, I guess all sore;
but nothing looks like the thoughts you had the night before.
All those things you said you’d do,
now seem foolish, pointless, untrue…
The past and future seem within reach,
and the present looks like one hell of a glitch.
That is just the thing we tell ourselves,
looking for excuses, shuffling between shelves.
But we all deeply know,
that firstly before us, that is low.
Motivation is bad, it won’t get you what you seek.
The mind changes all the time, it is terribly weak.
Persistence is what you need;
Your own discipline is what you need to feed.
Push it to the edge,
until it’s hanging from the ledge.
Do it, even if it hurts,
if that is what your soul lurks.
Then you’ll know what you want, what you need.
Opinions and perspective change all the time;
Your own hill, only you can climb.
It’s not important what you think is stupid or smart.
Get your aim at the stuff that fill your heart.
Aim and shoot,
shoot and in your target the bullet beroot.
Rub and scratch those little cramps,
those nasty damps;
Give it all, yell and shout,
until the cramps get burned out.

— The End —