Writer's Blocked

Tuesday, May 03, 2011, 9:14 pm

It's been a while my old friend. You, my words, that used to be my one vent. I don't even remember the last time I wrote for the sake of writing, the act of writing for myself and not a purpose. These days that's all I seem to do, write for someone or to achieve something. My writing has turned into the means to an end and along the path of adapting myself I seem to be losing something far more important, my ability to write.

There was a time when I could sit down for a few minutes and polish off a page full of words that left me happy, left me satisfied. I haven't felt that in a long long time, the simple feeling of being happy with what I've written. Even right now I can feel some change come over. Like these little darkening pixels are taking a little bit of darkness away from me. My writing is my therapy. It is the one thing that stuck by me and stuck with me, helping me through the worst of times and keeping me up through the best of them.

These days I doubt the simplest thing. Can I write? Of course, not in the literal sense of it, I'm writing right now. I mean in the deeper sense of it. I remember writing things that made people wonder, I have vague recollections of people lauding and applauding me for a string of words. Where has all that gone? It's not like I've forgotten the words, I still use the same everyday. Have I lost my craft? That's it isn't it. But, I wouldn't use the term 'lost', maybe just 'misplaced'. Or have I become cynical, demotivated or just plain dumb? I refuse to believe that I have. I know somewhere, under a lot of filth and dust, lies that brilliant writer that I thought I was. I just have to dig him out and make him stand on his own two feet again. I have to pick him up and get him crafting again.

And maybe, the answer is showing itself. It's these words. The words I thought I'd lost, the thoughts that I fear had wandered away from me, these are what will bring me back. I need, I must keep writing. I must keep pouring my heart out on a blank white sheet and watching it fill up with the colour of my anguish. As black as ink, now I realise the weight of the term.

Burning Bridges

The echoes of a silent night,
Birds that sing and a rising light.

The memory of a perfect time,
The friend for you and you were mine.

Days that passed in lighter veins,
Merrier times and easier ways.

A friend I had so long ago,
Would change so soon, I'd never know.

I missed the telling signs,
That showed themselves everytime.
I should have known what would be,
How soon it would pass to memory.

A broken bond,
That seemed so strong.
Lost and gone,
So long, so long.

Self Appraisal.

Look at me,

I'm an ordinary man.

Doing something,

That anybody can.

Weaving words,

And hoping to find a way.

To get people to read,

And think of what I say.

We're no different,

You and me.

Or that vagabond,

Walking down the street.

A billion people,

A billion different dreams.

Living within,

And way beyond our means.

What sets me apart,

Is the choices that I make.

The risks that I,

Will or will not take.

The sweet love,

That someone will soon know.

The broken heart,

And the words that follow.

We all bleed red,

If you cut any color of skin.

We're all the same,

What we are, lies within.

But tell me this,

Are you like me or am I like you?

What's different,

In the things that we do?

If we're all the same,

Then why should I even try.

Like we all live,

Some day we will soon die.

We walk alone,

But we never truly are.

You may feel bad,

But others have seen worse by far.

So stop thinking,

That you stand above the rest.

They're all trying,

It's all an imaginary test.

So step back,

From the varied silent crowd.

Hear my voice,

It may not be that loud.

What I say,

Applies to everyone.

Have some patience,

Your time has just begun.

Look at you,

You're an ordinary man.

Someone else is the same,

You're not the only one who can.

Look at me,

I'm an ordinary man.

Words.

My voice has left me,
My words are long gone.
It seems like yesterday,
But what I write now, seems wrong.

I used to sing praises,
And write about the good.
Notice what was missed,
Understand what was overlooked.
My heart seems weaker,
Every day that it beats.
My head seems heavier,
With every line that it thinks.

Broken glass would inspire,
Remind me of once complete things.
Each moment would aspire,
To write of greater beings.
My rhyme is forgotten,
What I write I do not know.
Something is missing inside,
And my words refuse to show.

My voice has left me,
My words are long gone.
It seems like yesterday,
But what I write now, seems wrong.

I could dream of splendid days,
Made of beautiful things.
I could create a harmony,
Yet now I cannot sing.
The days now drag on,
Those times was what I lived for.
But I’m dreading tomorrow today,
There’s nothing new to be found.

I want my inspiration,
I want my dedication.
I want all that’s gone,
I want all that I’ve never known.
To feel the joy of something new,
These days the moments are few.
I struggle with words for now,
Where is my mind lost?

Someone give me my voice,

Fill up this silent noise.

Give me comfort,

Let me write again.

Stoner Mongering.

Somewhere, somehow, someone believes that what they write on a virtual plane will be heard. Everywhere.

We all believe we're echoing some kind of super-conscious that resonates and lets us connect, and that my words will spread like wildfire and bring about the change that I hope and dream.

A foolish hope.

A stupid belief.

Doesn't stop me from trying again and again. Like this failed attempt despite it all.

I'm not sure yet if I'm making any sense. English don't fail me now...

Ah well. I'm stoned.

Sound Advice.

There's a poet, yet alive inside you, my friend.
Let him out.

Be not afraid of what the world will say, my friend.
Scream your dreams,
Write out loud.

You've doubted your worlds too long, my friend.

Don't hold back.

Beauty flows from your fingers, my friend.

She screams a dream,

Write out loud.

Pointless Rambles.

Please don't stop me from saying this,
I need you now than I ever did.
The words keep flowing and you're need,
In my life for this poetry.

I can't hear what you say to me,
I wish to live a little comfortably.
Don't be sad for this day,
Some day tomorrow will be eternity.

My prose keeps falling and breaking down,
The smile has turned to a twisted frown.
Toil in this world for a shaded pride,
Laughing and flying through a sordid ride.
Just sleep,
It's all that's needed.
Just live,
It's all about loving.

The silence breaks we're moving on,
The wound it heals like the crack of dawn.
A brighter light shines again,
What we were has faded to memory.

So think of us when you sleep tonight,
Love that stood through every fight.
A fork in the road and a choice to make,
A harder way for the journey's sake.
Just sleep,
It's all that's needed.
Just live,
It's all about loving.

Night by day.

I watch the moon,

Light up your face,

So sweet.

Hating sunrise,

And what he'll bring.

Hating tomorrow,

When you'll be gone.

Remembering that sleep,

Escaped us that night.

Yet not tired for a drop I feel.

And now the dreams fill your eyes.

The cold touches your skin.

As our feet wake up entwined,

And we speak for the very first time.

Stronger than steel,

I am.

Or so I'd like to believe.

That hated sunrise,

Showed me what I'd lost.

He showed me,

When you had gone.

Our hearts,

Are never our own.

A love that has come and gone.

In a time,

When we should have known.

The dreaded sun,

Is never wrong.

But I still remember,

When the dreams filled your eyes.
The cold touched your skin.
As our feet woke up entwined,
And we spoke for the very first time.

I still remember.