Wrong Write

It's a Soupy situation, When inspiration will not come My mind has gone on vacation At both the rising and the setting of the sun I have fallen into the Soup A peasouper, that's for sure It's so thick and mushy I cannot see any more. I tried to communicate with Shakespeare, Last night when I went to bed A voice whispered from afar You will have to use your initiative Don't you know the Bard is DEAD! Dead! how dare he Leaving me alone, Another so-called Poet Who will remain unknown I picked up my pen, covered in dust And had run out of ink, To my disgust. That pen of mine doesn't want to play, We both may feel like writing on another day