Everything Will Be; I'll Write

It's not a block...

It's a lock with a swallowed key

And I might have to vomit up crap

Before meaningful words come out of me

It's not depressing...

Like it always used to consist

It's just trying to change gears 

In a vehicle that no longer exists

It's not stuck...

It's a reflex that isn't used as much

The clock still passes time

The hands are just out of touch

It's tough to hear...

Damn near silent with fright 

It's trying to be everything it used to be

Wanting everything to be; I'll write

It's not forgetful...

It's a thought without sufficient conduit

Tangled in intangible darkness

Without a guiding light to find it

It's in love...

With what could come from pen and page

But terrified of something real

Trapped in effort's anxious cage

It's nostalgic...

Pained and pleasured alike

It needs coaxing through fond memories in one hand

While the other holds reality's spike

It's tough to see...

Damn near impossibly out of sight

It's trying to be everything it used to be

And everything will be; I'll write 

My Idea

Something jumps.

Then it kicks.

Biting, scratching

Hoping it sticks

It rips and shreds

In an effort to escape

It’s angry, impatient

And desperate to take shape

There’s something funny

There in the dark

There’s something fuse-less

Hungry for just one spark

It strains, runs, falls

Gets up again to heed a call

It stings, swings, clings

For even something small

It’s trapped. – It thinks

It’s caged. Deranged?

It’s happenstance, coincidence

Longing to be arranged

It’s hitting a wall

That isn’t there

It’s tangled up

In invisible snares

It’s snarling, malcontent

Yet eager to please

It’s boisterously humble

And an easy tease

It beats, slams, pounds

In a rage to get out

Then gingerly confounds

When it shyly pouts

Honestly! It’s childish!

How immature and aggravating!

To put me through

This headaching

Come here! Get out!

I’ve got you now!

Just spill from this pen;

Show them all how.

Listen to me!

Enough is enough!

I mean really,

You’re not that tough.

[Sounds of ink

And a struggle I think

The beast roars

Eager for more

It sounds like it’s coming

In a violent intangible mess

Tearing up the page

There won’t be anything left]

“I’ve won!” I say

All bloodied and bruised

“I now understand

What previously confused”

Rough, unpolished, unrefined

Tamed, restrained, and confined

Gracious in defeat, seemingly ready for design

But I’m still suspicious, about this idea of mine…

Who Cares?

Plate out their pride

And unveil their vanity

Always working to ensure 

They assert their own insanity

Presently the proud parents

Of validation-needing offspring

Perfection for just one month?

Does that even mean anything?

Sticker on their car says "Honor Roll"

But doing nothing for something can take its toll

Sit back, relax, but make sure everyone's aware

All eyes on them to see who cares

Voice their own brand of colorful vomit

And throw up their hands in disgust

Remind us again why they think they're above it

Then try hiding the fact that they also rust

Bare-knuckle box with knowledge

And argue they came out on top

Detest logic backed up by detailed data

And for the love of God don't ever stop!

Stamp on the meat says "Grade 'A' Beef"

But doing nothing for something can find no relief

Sit back, relax, but make sure everyone's aware

All eyes on them to see who cares

Fifteen minutes of fabulous fame

That grew into a grotesque game

Finally at the top of what's still the bottom

Arguing that they're better than "them"

Strut their stuff and politely curtsy

Then act like their shit doesn't reek

Display that pearly white fallacy

And convince the world attention isn't what they seek

Plaque on the wall says "Most Valuable Player"

But doing nothing for something can start to wear

Sit back, relax, but make sure everyone's aware

All eyes on them to see who cares

Help yourself to some self help books

And continue ignoring the mess of dirty looks

A sultry shamble of shifty crooks

With too much already to know what they took

God's gifts to the world

Or so they'd like you to believe

A world without them

Would be impossible to conceive

With the title of "Entitled" they'll all agree

That "Everyone needs to know about me!

I am right! Hear me roar!"

Blind to a world that doesn't care anymore

Tombstone says "The Dopest Fool There Ever Was!"

Died doing nothing for something just because

Lie back, relax, because we're all now aware

All eyes on them, but who cares?

Out of the Past

I can't find where I used to be
An all too distant memory
I re-read the words that followed me here
They've pinned me down in another year

I set out to tell a story
And I ended up writing quite a few
But the problem with getting older
Is forgetting what once was new

It's not a feeling I can recreate
Nor do I want to. Perhaps simulate?
It's a chapter I've finished reading, I suppose
But I'm not sure how the next chapter goes

It reads confusing, like a different language
And it feels distant like an unknown age
The difference is distinct, but utterly satisfying
I'm finding so much happiness while not even trying

I have no regrets save the pages still pending
I have no idea how to get to the ending
I have a new love that sets pages a fire
And yet there remains and unfinished desire

Enough already! Stop trying to retrieve
Just put pen to paper and start to believe
Work from new emotions and let those feelings go
That work was built through depression, or didn't you know?

Finish the story, find a new way to start
You can finally end it because you have her in your heart