The desert,
A sea of sand, drought and dry air under a scorching, blazing Sun,
The wind may feel alike a cut, which burns through your senses,
Relentless, the heat takes over by day, yet by night it is cold enough to freeze you if you come unprepared. Such would be a foolish idea,
A dessert of thoughts, driving into my brain, leaving ideas uncovered
Leaving productivity hidden, under the sand of hatred and self doubt
Such places, landscapes, covered by firy silicate or ice are truly lethal,
Such state of mind, covered by uncertainty is truly lethal, for ones wonderful creativity, for art of all kind, conveyed or material, if you might wander through such a land without any guide to help out,
Worry not, for after every drought comes rain, blissful rain to fertilise the soil of thoughts which will blossom in wonderous ways, to shine,
After all, motion without movement cannot be possible so try to move
A wise friend once tought me, that if you give it enough time, even a nigh impossibility becomes a certainty, even a desert could be a forest
But until then, be patient my dear, even the most deserted place, carries some beauty in it, no ?

~ Umi

Poem ideas, Like fire burning your brain. It burns all day and does not rest for days. It will burn until may. Until an idea comes to my bunrt barin.

But all the ideas have turned stagnant
In the little idea lake in my mind

And the little idea fishermen are all sitting there, waiting and waiting
and waiting, for a little idea fish to come along

But the idea lake is stagnant,
and stinky, and rotten.

And there's a little legend going around
About a monster that lurks near the idea lake

Who eats the little idea fishermen if they stay
For too long, so..

They don't stay for long.
So they never catch any idea fish.

So, that's why I couldn't write a little something.
But I thought I'd write a little nothing instead.

Recently I was told that I need to sell my best aspects
My personal growth, what I can do and that I'm really worth it
Put it on a plate, feed them your brilliance that you’re the right cog for their kit
But I am not that way inclined, I’d rather watch the world go by, as sitting on the wall is where I fit

I don’t mean to be quiet, I have a lot to say but sometimes can be a little shy
Do my words make sense, I’ll just sit on the fence and dream of my bigger fish to fry
But I am told I can make it, don’t just try and fake it, step into this world and be seen
Don’t bottle it up, you have words to be said, all tied down since you was a teen

So where do I start, with these words of mine, in talk or best left written
Do I turn to poetry, or comedy on stage, is this more to chew than I have bitten
What if I’m a failure, looked down upon as a man without a cause
I think this is what has stopped me for years, my life always stuck on pause

There is a word for us that has crept into modern speech, that word being procrastination
I’ll do it tomorrow, never boarding that train, always left wondering at the station
Okay, so maybe that’s too strong a word, I’m a bolder man than an introvert
Just do as you say, step into that pit and stop scratching around in the dirt

For you have ideas, some larger than life
And that one that you always ponder
Roll it out on show, it’s a dead cert
And the world will gasp in wonder

The Introvert

JJB

the shadows the sun cast when it rises,
way beyond down
there I am

stuck as a soul can be on a plane not meant for the unsure,
I grab onto other souls who know what to do with their existence,
and ask, is this for me too?

no, no
it doesn't feel right
breathing here doesn't feel right
every breath feels forced, just to survive, because i need to.
but they breathe because they've found it

the purpose of their souls,


I think mine was lost.