Blip blop pencil top
drums against the notebook
Tick tock clicking clock
never takes or gives a break
Pit pat raindrops splat
trickling down the window pane
Scritch scratch pencils flash
Scribbling down the page.
Silence comes silence goes
In truth silence no one knows
Human clock ticks nonstop
Marking time with sounds
Marking time with sighs
Marking time with moves
Every movement makes a sound
Time is everlasting everpresent eversounding
everknowing evergoing evergrowing never undergoing
Ever where we are
ever who we’ll be
ever what will ever live on
beyond you and me.
So, I have written about not writing! It’s probably not one of my best creations, but that is also part of the challenge of publishing my writing here…. Enjoy!
I have not written a thing in a month
The words are stuck in my jet-black ink pot
If I open the lid, they will surely run off
But I can’t find a way to loosen the top.
I have not set pen to paper in a month
I left all the grammar locked behind a door
When I, open it, I will be able too rite
But I accidentaly spelled all the grammer on the floor.
I have thought about writing, really a lot
But thoughts are not actions are not words they are — not
Anything at all but the world in your head
As far as you know, my thoughts could well be dead.
I have not created a world in a week!
Surely you see: my Puns are mocking me.
My Words have not left; my Verses do not take flight
My Metaphors ignore them, not hearing their plight.
My Words have not come to me in all of a day
I hate them; despise them! Just send them away.
I hate trying to rhyme, hate losing my time
But my efforts have sadly all run astray;
It seems they’ll just keep sending ideas my way.
My dear lovely readers and followers…
Once again, I thank you for your support. I have sadly not written much the past couple of months; I have been quite busy, and unfortunately, I think I might be having a bit of a writer’s block. (If i can call myself a writer, that is). I hope to work on something soon. I have started writing a fantasy novel based on a crazy and very detailed dream I had earlier this year, but never moved on from chapter two, so if I do not get some poetry out anytime soon, I might publish half a chapter here and see if people are interested, to help me figure out whether I will continue working on it or not. I do not think it would be for all audiences though.
I thank you once again, and hope all of you are doing wonderfully!
Far far far
Why does nothing
feel so hard
As it’s meant to be?
Why are all things
Not quite here
As my eyes can see?
All things going down.
Away away away
Far into the dawn.
Skim the surface
Of what lies deep down
Let the ground
The throes of night
pull you in
pull you down
to the place where
barriers will fall
Where the glass is just a lie
High upon the clouds
Of mist inside your mind.
It’s only but a lie.
I usually don’t write any social criticism, but the attitude of many of this generation’s youth has annoyed me and inspired me to write this…. Enjoy!
Share the love
The new-generation hippie talks.
Life’s got no aim
It’s the new-generation hippie claim.
Of these the hippie nothing knows.
Build with grass
Hippie does as hippie should.
Yet when it comes
To daily life
And not just abstract ideas and thoughts
Show, not talk:
The new-generation hippie balks:
Lights turned on under the sun
Energy flowing whole day long
Organic; free range; the price is high
This Trivial Money cannot buy
Food flows down the rubbish chute
But that doesn’t matter if you look good:
Right clothes, right smiles, right façade
It’s the modern-day hippie passing by.
Spread the love
A smile a day
I only do anything
On a walk
The new-generation hippie mocks.
I disappear into the night
The frosty stars hide me from sight
I disappear into the night.
In the dark it is my plight
It’s my burden shining bright
It’s my friend and yet my fight
I’m invisible in the night.
My mind is swirling
Winds are whirling
In the bottom of my heart
My eyes are closing
My brain is pushing
My eyelids heavy into the dark
I hadn’t realized
What went on in my mind
Until the twister turned
And swallowed all my thoughts
And spit them out again
All in different places
All in different shapes
Bashed into the frontiers of my mind
Pressing out into my eyes and the corners of my conscience
Now my eyes
Will not remain open
For the Brain has commanded them to close
Funny enough it is
That when pressure comes from the twister inside
The mind needs a rest from the outside world.