#uninspired
What is the point of pen to paper
If there is nothing to paper the pen?
I gnaw at the thought
It splinters to dust
The sentence won't surface again
The edge of the page
Keeps a ledger of ghosts
I owe it a line
Not a fight
The margin waits open
An outstretched palm
I let the silence write
I circle the thought but it will not set
It scatters each time that I press
I draft then erase
Like I'm lifting a blade
Afraid of how deep it might dress
The current stays frozen
Refusing to thaw
A stalemate of ink and of will
Until I accept that
The blank is a pulse
The page and I hold still
Mar 3
Mar 3, 2026 at 3:34 PM UTC
no words.
I have no words
though I suppose by saying I don't I do.
No clever alliteration. No poetic narrative.
Just hollowness
and a heavy head
And a want to cry, but the tears wont come.
Noah Kahan is right.
I filled the hole in my head
Forgot how to cry
but the pain still exists
and nothing is different
i thought if i reached the end, everything would be better
but its all the same.
May 2, 2024
May 2, 2024 at 12:05 AM UTC
keep going back to cool stuff I once made &
rereading it applying some changes
to certain ones at times; it's frustrating
that, after the latest rhyme piece written
I have created nothing decent
and am kind of wasting time on thI̲s one
where are those several lines
after penning which I, eventually, wi[aɪ]nd
up having devised a barful sheet?
how & what the hell to indite?
go, like an overnight lodge, hO̲[ɑ]stile? ge[ɪ]t
["hostel"]
a mo[ɑ]p & fire lead
at poor lyricists or strike auto[ɑ]cracy
and agents of this kind of po[ɑ]litics
with spite like prior sh#t
of mine? something like the stuff in which
much of bo[ɑ]dy harm's received
by the unrighteous targets picked?
going that way reminds me of the knight of Go[ɑ]tham with
that armored co[ɑ]stume pU̲t on
[the Batman in an armored suit from the "Dawn Of Justice" film]
like that warmonge[—]ring nuisance (it's all the West!)
'cause that kind of stuff's the stro[ɑ]ngest suit &
it's somewhat dark as well
but it's O̲[ʌ]f no help to the psycholo[ɑ]gic health
change the cu[ʌ]rrent bell
[style; the "change one's tune" expression]
on something which has no[ɑ]t a knell-
-like vibe to it? how in the ****** hell?
have to be afflicted by a spell
or something to have the lyric-writing shelf
o[ʌ]f mine supplied with stuff like
that; in fact, there's one which is kind of well
in terms of the least of violence dealt
and having the least of toxic vibe as well
it's that night fun tale
["a night out rhyme tale"]
write something personal?
not like some ****** flick
but that's horrible
'cause I am pro[ɑ]bably go[ʌ]nna wI̲[aɪ]nd up with
something writ as if by a whining b#tch (again)
with all that versified, it seems
it may be better, like a nau[ɑ]ghty chick
with a zoomorphic co[ɑ]stume kink
to opt for a tale of some kind (tail)
something with the littlest o[ʌ]f spite
and sans an in-the-dumps vibe
still, it's easier to just go a[ɑ]dverse
whether I target authO̲r—
—itarianism or chU̲mps who've go[ɑ]t poor
bars, instead of tryna cO̲me up with
sO̲mething else, which is whY̲ it feels
like a comfO̲rt... zone
(a writer's comfort zone)
Feb 27, 2024
Feb 27, 2024 at 8:47 AM UTC
Wave after wave we rode the highs,
Steadying our footing before the next rise,
It all crashes into laughter and the salty foam,
Time flew by as the clouds framed the setting sun,
Lighting our path as the time came to head back home.
I lived in the fleeting moments loving the rush of being alive,
Forgetting about the dark night that lay over the horizon,
As we crossed the threshold back into our abode,
The interlude ended as the last light receded from the windows,
Leaving me in unattended in the murk of my thoughts.
Unequipped for the blackness that glared at me,
I searched for a glimmer of a forgotten dream,
There was once a fire that shone bright my hopes & ambitions,
Not even embers remain that I may stoke a new flame,
Aimlessly I move through the motions of the daily mundane.
Slowly collapsing under the unbearable weight,
Wishing that I could find meaning in life,
Or give up altogether and end it tonight,
"Why am I even here?" Echoes back at me from the dark,
I fear there is nothing else left for me here.
Nov 13, 2022
Nov 13, 2022 at 3:33 PM UTC
Sometimes the Moon is just
the Moon
Stars simply stars
They're just reliable objects
They just are
And birds are just birds
They're pretty
They fly
Often words are just words
They're witty
They lie
And colors are just granted
Sort of like you and I
Until each pretty petal
just withers and dies
Feb 24, 2022
Feb 24, 2022 at 6:41 PM UTC
These days the well of ideas runs dry
I can no longer lower my bucket
And bring it up full
With enough to satisfy your thirst for creativity
And to satisfy my thirst to create
Yet I am chained to my commitment
To bring you this daily offering
So I turn to the dry stones of my well
And try to squeeze water from them
I hope this mere drop is enough
Feb 25, 2021
Feb 25, 2021 at 9:19 PM UTC
The new year should bring
New inspirations but I am
Feeling quite lost.
Spinning on delicate in a
never ending cycle of my
Washing machine.
Repetition at its finest.
New would be nice I reckon.
Dec 30, 2020
Dec 30, 2020 at 10:35 PM UTC
i ache to feel inspired.
long for the thoughts and feelings i once knew.
let my mind consume itself with possibilities.
i ache to feel important.
to know my words are devoured,
by someone with a fragile heart and mind.
i want to run away with myself.
run away to that place of opportunity.
where i glow brighter than the stars,
and emit warmth stronger than the sun.
i ache to feel that way again.
that important kind of way.
where i am more than just my body.
where i am my thoughts, my feelings.
myself.
me.
Nov 6, 2020
Nov 6, 2020 at 4:02 PM UTC
#*
There is not much to write
These days
My mind on an uninspired escape
The thoughts scarce and redundant
Disinterested words
Wander off for a sea-scape
Sure there is enough beauty in this world
Yet to be explored
Limited my imagination and views today*#
Oct 29, 2020
Oct 29, 2020 at 1:04 PM UTC
_You build your nest of pretty words,
Sly threads of verbiage,
Plucked from outworn phrases,
Secondhand sentiments and frayed metaphors.
A thorny simile, a faded pink ribbon,
Of rhetoric woven with silky streamers;
A warp and weft of fond and found,
Borrowed references and stolen verses.
You recycle the shining heart,
Of another’s penmanship,
Modelling it into a tarnished,
Uninspired and untitled composition
...OF YOUR OWN..._
Jul 6, 2019
Jul 6, 2019 at 8:41 PM UTC
the fire burns bright,
clouding my mind
with the smoke
of an angry heart.
she tries
with all her might
to put the blaze out —
will she succeed?
Jun 17, 2019
Jun 17, 2019 at 7:09 AM UTC
don't expect me to do for you
what you don't do for yourself
don't mistake your right to be wrong
for my respect
the worlds collided, merged
what you attack rules over you
the song i've known for years
makes sense now but
i still won't play it out loud
but i'd watch you dance anyway
i will tell you what i have been dreaming about
since i chose to be useful
those are my real hopes
and dreams
that i want out, once and for all
but that would never be allowed
i am, we are, exhausted, anyway
your anger is justified by everything you lack
there is no point in teaching
you need to be left to learn
slowly
but
surely
here is my last line
everything this masochistic mayhem is about
it's fine to be alright
it's still normal to feel okay
it has been always normal
for you to be okay
it is okay to show vulnerability
you are human after all
but always remember to defend your keep
steady now and don't lose your footing
Jun 16, 2019
Jun 16, 2019 at 11:49 AM UTC
Thinking is not doing,
Doing is doing,
And lately,
I have been thinking a lot,
And it gets in the way of doing,
Whenever I make myself do,
All I am missing is the rest,
And to stop, look, rest and think...
Apr 20, 2019
Apr 20, 2019 at 5:23 AM UTC
Chaos.
Being told to tame this beautiful chaos of mine
is like being told not to feel
while walking through fire.
They tell me not to feel.
It's wrong.
So lately i've been uninspired.
I cannot think long enough to write down my thoughts.
Don't think.
It complicates things.
Just feel, and
if it feels like home
then follow its path.
And that's the thing.
She was always willing to burn for everything she has ever loved.
Chaos.
It's what we know as love.
A.
Apr 16, 2019
Apr 16, 2019 at 12:52 PM UTC
This dull pencil has filled me with lead and weighed down my soul
This canvas is blank
Save for the bruised marks of an angry quill
I shake as hard as I can
But the pen has fallen to the might of frustration
I am but a broken type writer
Apr 7, 2019
Apr 7, 2019 at 12:10 AM UTC
What day is it?....
Oh... !!!
Why couldn't it be yesterday?!
I survived yesterday.
Apr 1, 2019
Apr 1, 2019 at 5:45 PM UTC
It's 4:50pm.
The second hand ticks through the numbers.
Nobody stirs in the office.
Just heads behind computer screens.
I think about my daughter.
She must be starting to work up an appetite for dinner.
The manager sneaks out earlier than usual.
I think about my wife.
She's probably cooking up something delicious.
I stare at the screen. A new email.
The subject line becomes blurry as I stare back at the clock.
It's 4:51pm.
Mar 25, 2019
Mar 25, 2019 at 7:45 PM UTC
unmotivated,
uninspired,
stressed,
scared,
dreading,
doubting,
wanting,
needing
to write.
to create.
but my mind's drier
than eyes after crying
Mar 20, 2019
Mar 20, 2019 at 4:26 PM UTC