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#1 (permalink) |
Darth Mojo
Location: Right behind you...
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I've got words deep inside of me
I've got words deep inside of me, gasping for air
They try to stay hidden, yet I know they are there My mission in life is to set them all free I don't guess it's fun being stuck inside me I've released a few as you no doubt can see Yet for every one, I've missed twenty three My fingers get tied up in knots when I type They must be great words to be causing this hype Some are pure genius and some are just tripe These smell like roses, and those are too ripe They stick on the tip of my tongue when I speak This blank I keep drawing makes me want to shriek I made up my mind and I've planned this all week Yet when the time came I grew suddenly meek The words wouldn't come when I needed them most They all disappeared, I was left with a ghost To writer's block, I must raise a toast I've freed so many words that I may as well post Reader, please comment, as it's only fair So next time I'm writing, I'll happily share. Last edited by mojodragon; 02-01-2005 at 04:26 AM.. |
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#3 (permalink) |
Upright
Location: Hertfordshire, UK.
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What writers block?!
<b>Writer's block.</b> Embittered lack of ingenuity. It leaves me feeling idle. I wail; melodramatically tortured by the complacent energy hiding in my incoherent limbs & consequentially I channel this energy into incessent screams. Words refuse to tessilate. They repel & collide with the ineptitude of a stagnant puppet, Radiating effete values of ridiculous passivity. A strain to allow simple verbs to flow from thought, to pen, to paper, to some contradicted reality. But no reality, as I appear to be indocrinated and obvious. Beginnings of sentences, inevitable & abominable. They will never finish. Thoughts are so rapid that they become a series of flatulent (but fractured and indistinguishable) idealisms. "Existance is only a game". I do not posess the integrity needed to be a writer. Cellular fingerprints are left all over every medium, never to be returned and seldom to be remembered. Appreciation proscribed. Compliments void by default. Stagefright. The limelight is deadly. |
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Tags |
block, ode, writer |
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