Tuesday, September 07, 2010

The Poetry A Dried Up River

I am stagnant.

I repel inspiration.

The essence of simplicity is simply nowhere to be found.


Where was I when the waters withdrew?

I was sleeping under a bridge, choking on coal dust.

I was in the fetal position sucking on the teat of denial.

I was losing myself in battles my mind had already lost.


For days now I have had a poem on the tip of my fingers; this is not that poem.

For nights now I have pretended phone sex was a virtue and I was the most virtuous of all.

You may not believe in anything and that is okay because honestly who am I to care or for that matter to care about you?


I am starving for the crumb of a new thought or idea.

Inspiration and I only speak on a need to know basis.

The essence of simplicity like a blip on the radar screen is disappearing farther and farther out to sea.