Hum…. this page is blank
Wonder what I’m supposed to thank
No not thank you, what I’m thankin’ about
Thankin’ what makes me mad, makes me shout
Scrambled eggs and brains, that’s what people eat
No brains, I’ll guess I’ll put my point on repeat
I’m thankin’ hard, mind is charging double overtime
That’s a high price to pay for just a simple rhyme

I can’t keep up with my muse’s ****
My write hand is dragging, like a catcher’s mitt
In such a hurry, trying to catch everything
You never know, my muse may make me sing

Words abound, no truth in any I’ve found
Still the words, they circle back around
Did they find my roots, am I buried that deep
The cold, dark ground, holds my secrets to keep

Wait just a minute muse, you’re going too fast
You have to slow down to make the pages last
Capture my heart, blurred between the lines
Uncover my soul, it’s inside these rhymes

Whoops, time to fill the pages I missed
I’ll use the one about when we first kissed
Our love was young, impulsive, good anytime
I am always yours, will you always be mine
Here we are, much later than before
I am still here; I only want you more

I skipped a few pages, I’ll have to double back
Sort of got carried away and lost track
I’ll save some words to fill them later
Something that sounds a little greater
Maybe some nice lines, fresh in my mind
Just enough to show you I can be kind
Kind of, sort of, maybe I don’t know
Never can tell which way the words will go

Riding this rock, that just won’t stop spinning
Fighting a battle, nobody will be winning
No need to worry, we don’t fight alone
There’s about a zillion of us, calling it home
We fight each other, while our nations fight more
It’s all over the news, with the blood and the gore
This place is getting warmer, no matter what we do
Soon it’s going to be hot, too hot for me and you
There will be nowhere to go, no place to hide
We can’t make it stop, we’re all on this ride
We can’t get off, at least not without dying
We try to save ourselves; let nature do the crying
Rivers run dry, they flow yellow, green, and black
When this rock is over, so is time, and that’s a fact

Sometimes my muse only sees the dark, he fills my pen with pain
Makes me write sad little lines, and makes tears fall like rain
He’s only trying to spill my heart, so I get poetic relief
He makes me think these things, but it doesn’t change my belief
I believe that I know myself, there’s no one else to blame
I keep writing with my muse, we play a poetic game

I’ve got a new pad, 50 pages
That’s a lot of room for my rages
Enough space to spill my soul
Getting to the cardboard, that’s my goal
It might take me a while
I’ll have to laugh, cry and smile
When I finally get to the end
The cardboard will be my friend