Writers Block

[Xenophon Loki]

When growing up, they told me there was no such thing
Bring me your homework up, its seems we have to give your mum a ring
The sheet was near empty apart from a date, title and a capital T
I looked at the question for ages, but nothing inspired me
Back then I was punished and laughed at, but now its acceptable
Your told you'll overcome it, prehaps i'm an exception to the rule
Everyone goes thru this, at some point in there career
But what if this disease doesn't pass, i lose my passion thats my fear
It's like banging your head against a brick wall, never endingly tall
To hurdle over, just when i think i've made it, i fall
The lights are on but no ones in, i just have nothing left to steal
I feel unreal that i can't string a paragraph together, whats the deal
With me as I sit with my pad and pen contemplating what to write
Trying my hardest to come with something original and not to bite
My brain is bursting at the seams with thoughts but the inner layers just too tight
To let my mind expand and explore clearly, to send me on the path thats right
Instead of having me prancing around like a caged lion late into the night
Information overload is clouding my imagination, i just need the sight
Of the bright light, to bring me out of depths of dispair before i get the knife
Coz I over analyze everything i devise, poetry, scriptures, lyrics and life
Torturing my mind, till i can no longer think percise oh the trouble and strife
I'm rife with discontent with the relative easy thats others possess
When it comes to constructing words, pharses, multiple pages of stressless
Success, i wish i had this skill of consistency this i must confess
I tasted drink and drugs to give me options and visions of being psychedelic
Face down i sink on the bathroom rug, motionless like a prehistoric relic
I've tried love, sex and romance, learned how to dance but still no chance
Looked to religion for a new spiritual being, but not even god can't
Set my mind freeing, counciling and angling but i'm still left dangaling
On the edge of quitting. as nobody else can see what im seeing
The maragin is pushing and throwing, my words off the page
Imposing like PM Dawn, before KRS One took him off the stage
Suddenly, idea's and plans out of nowhere, but no tools to put them down, thee's irated
Rage explodes the boiling point, when i find the Ink from my pen has dehydrated
I twist and turn my wrist, tense my fingers to a fist, praying i don't miss
As I go on my quest for creative bliss, hoping to break this solitude of abyss
They call writers block, with a full stop........

[ONE_MIC_ETERNAL]

Wonderful poem, The reality in each line is relevently realistic and reminded me of the times that I suffered with writing. I also did drugs to see if it would break down the wall and suffered the same collapse, cause, it didnt do anything to make me write or write better. Its a wonder, you know a sequel to this in how you emerge from such writers block is trully due.
What Ive learnt is writing is a form of your own language and what ever you say will and will not matter cause not everyone speaks the same terms but, the idea of part of your Imagination,passion and heart being left behind as a reality no matter what it be written,is trully remarkable..because someone
will in one time or another understand.

good works,