Totally Uninspired
By
M. Jay Mansfield
(2-3-02)
A man sets down with a challenge ...
do what you love...
but do it on demand...
an easy task at hand...
so he sharpens his wit...
and he wets his pen...
and he sits...
and he ponders...
ok is this it...
aloud he wonders...
She was a beauty deep and true...
with shag carpet of tweed and blue...
hair like sparkling sun....
coarse like a bail of hay...
Oh no the poet wails...
this cannot be...
Not on this important day...
this is not what they must see...
concentrate I must....
perhaps a breeze ....
fresh air to erase the rust....
again he sits ....
prepared to write with ease...
knowing this is his love....
The wave crashed upon the crowded shore...
destroying the child like sand castles of homes...
Father ocean reclaiming the open shores....
not listening to realtor woes....
or the local money whores....
My god, the poet wails...
where has my soul gone...
where is my pain and anger...
my lust and love....
my superb ability to wax poetic...
to make martyrs of heretics...
and saints from sinners...
to praise the devils...
and bring down unfeeling angels...
Where has my mind gone...
that sings sweet praises to dirty women...
and makes the sweet wail as if paid by the hour....
where has it gone...
My pen, it fails
it has forgotten the words...
it now longer sees...
when did it forget
what the nether world was about...
how can I only post graffiti...
and limerick quality rhymes...
What evil creature holds my love...
and keeps it from my mind...
why in this moment of need ...
what I live...
I breathe...
is so far away from me...
why ..
where...
what shall I do?
The poet's anguish overcomes him...
and he falls upon his quill...
funny how his weapon of choice...
would be the source of the kill...
as he laughs uncontrollably ...
he watches his life's ink...
write the final lines of his saga...
all he can think is.....
how poetic...
I wish I could write about .......
..............
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