Now the voices have gone silent
And my mind's an empty hall
Every thought's an echo bent
Every word an unanswered call

There is music in my heart
But it's nothing pure or free
My soul has lost it's spark
There are no songs left in me

So I'm lost in the chorus
I'm caught in the verse
The world is before us
And it's getting worse
And we're hollowing up
For the day prophesied
Cause in my heart, the music's died.

So I'll stick to listening
And drop the pen
Post a ghost posting
On whisper again

And maybe it's fine
That the song's dead inside
Maybe it's gone rotten
And my creativity's died

So I'm lost in the chorus
I'm caught in the verse
The world is before us
And it's getting worse
And we're hollowing up
For the day prophesied
Cause in my heart, the music's died.

If only, if only I could think of one line.
I would write anything. Carroll-ing,
in Wonderland, ring, bing, ting, ting,
but in actuality, that is the sands of time
“Passing Me By” – like the Pharcyde, far side.

Anything, I would write. Insects, parasites,
diseases. God forbid if I wrote about Jesus.
I need something to quill that I cannot resist,
I will, believe this. I take the keyboard swiftly...
but the key is, I’m bored; mind keeps shifting.

Write anything – I would. True Yoda –isms,
Star wars, chores, ignorance galore; I’m bored
Of uncovering the ills of NSA’s PRISM.
******, I want to travel! A world to explore
And unravel; out there are words to score.

Would I Write Anything? I’ll just sit here
Like the man on the marble slab. Blank screens,
White walls, smoke green and sip all the beer.
It’s weird, I’ll sit here and it hits me sometime.
If only, if only I could think of one line.

That sudden momet
         When you find the key
          To your writers block
         And poem after poem
          Floods in like a wave
          To your mind
          Begging you to write
          To share every
          Thought with the
          Strangers of the Internet
          As your fingers itch
          Trying to write
           Faster and faster
No matter how tired
Or how late
           You keps writing
           Because you need
           To get every idea
            On that plain white page
           Before the cursed writers block
            Seeps back into your brain.
I'm having one of those
Moments now.

I feel like I have lost my ability to create images;
Those truly magical ones that can be read in a year or two when I feel this way again.
A sentence or a word that will usher up in me some spark to light fire in my pen
and take to the pages like some ravish creature.
Some days, the not so bad but oh so normal ones,
I stare at this notebook and pray divine intervention again, as if I know He bores of me too.
“Good morning, help me find my escape from my own head or else I may truly lose my mind”
Most days, like today, I sit in solitude and wait;
Sipping through my teeth the brisk morning air and hot sour coffee,
perfectly made by my perfectly placed Keurig
and doodle line for line-
Life has become some mediocre muse at best.

I still remember you
Oh so well
On such a haze of a cold winter's night
Where you and I did lie side by side
in such Solemn sweet tranquility      
Perhaps two brains elsewhere would do
And I stared forward at the dull moonlight
that snuck in through cracks In the dusty shutters
And soon I myself fell into a slumber
Soft eyelids melting with fireball and the midnight chime

Things had slowly changed
As mind to spirit slipped to song
you did rise from where you lay
Taking leave in low light
I peered through half shut eyes
As clicking chimes and doors you swung
Pierced the empty but perfect silence

You left me quite terribly alone
And with your absence as my fear
I rose myself and slowly hummed
To tail your ghostly shadow

An hour gone in your twisted maze
Walking barefoot through the night
I found you on your knees
Beneath the Idlewood tree
crying scarlet tears
sunken down in prayer
Nightgown soaked in mud
I watched you breath
So heavily
So desperately and true
Your face clear of any other colour
But dark red and warmest blue

As we lay there
Side by side
Your arm around my head  
You must have heard the screams
That came out of my own lips instead

I split open my psyche
scouring for ideas
A novel way of saying how I feel

All I find and see is gray
with nought but uniform figures
That tower over me and block the light

Sinking deeper and deeper
like a capsule swallowed
into the gut of my mind

A wretched thought clears the path
Into a new enlightenment
Bleak as it may be, I am empty