Available for purchase!

Musings of the Mad Volume I: Every Stitch Tells a Story Purchase Page

Monday, March 25, 2013

Writer's Block

The words play softly in front of my eyes.
Like the notes of a piano, low and melodic, yet percussive and insistent.
They weave their web in my brain until I'm wrapped in their seductive glow.
They keep me safe; they keep me warm.
My one true love, they dance with me in the shadows.
Moving gracefully, we dance this waltz breaking every barrier. 
They tease me as a coy lover.
I can see their letters, naked, laid out before me
But they refuse to show me their words
They tickle my consciousness, begging to be used.
I grab each one, only to feel it slip between my fingers
The ink dripping from my fingertips like so much blood.
The thrill is the chase and they have captured me to play this game
For the play is the thing, so says the Bard.
And if fools we mortals be
Then I am the most foolish and my words tell me so with exacting grace as only they can
absurd, asinine, brainless, crazy, daft, doltish, fatuous, half-baked, half-witted, imbecilic, imprudent, indiscreet, insane, irrational, lunatic, short-sighted, simple, stupid, unwise, witless
The words play softly in front of my eyes
Insistent in their need to be commanded. 
Desperate in their intent to command.
Their lesson is ongoing, never ending and it is this
Only with a pen mightier than the sword
Will the disease bleed away.
Only when the words are razor sharp in their wit
Will it cut to the quick and then bleed away
Only when lost in the moment 
Will the courage come, to cut the shit
And then bleed away.

No comments:

Post a Comment