I have a frightening mental block,
Poetic reserves lost, no stock,
My mood is down and damp,
My hand has constant cramp,
Imagination not worth a dime,
Brain all mushy, turned to slime,
Fantasy faded oh dear oh dear,
Inspiration none, it’s gone I fear,
Funny, horror, politics, history or love,
Blankly, see grey cloudy skies above,
My thoughts are less than dazzling,
Stop me, for I think I’m babbling,
My poetic sanity is somehow unraveling,
But hey, just made up a rhyme,
Guess all I need is time!
My muse just texted me, she is on a plane back home!
Cramp from Using Food Stamp
Outside was damp and do have a cramp,
Each time when I had used a food stamp;
Shopping at store,
With rest of poor,
And have no home and so out must camp.
Jim Horn
Remember when I lived in Seattle area and
people would slept under the bridges.
we heard the wagonwheels
the rattling of the axles
the stinge of the horses
the dust they created
we were unmoved
some became frightened
but most of us knew
what they varmints wanted
we stood back to back to make
sure they weren't getting it
they wanted our gold
and we weren't gonna let them have it!
From the novel Big Tramps Watering Hole
published by Dahiser Hussier
and the Bandchoosen Franchise
New York greetings publishing company
copyrighted 1901.
eraser gnawed pencils
filling bubbles with graphite
closed books open minds
I can write for days
Keep on planting trees trees trees
Tell the world not to run out of seeds
That paper is useful
I write with it
Not a single writer's cramp live in my body I can write for days
So tell the writers cramp player haters to watch out
what you say about me
because now you hitting up my line asking for advice
I can write for days
so watch out what you say about me
No single writers cramp live in my body
Hitting them from left and right
By the morning time I wrote a thousands more poems
You can never stop me
Its even worst that you trying to have skills like me
You can never beat me
This gift was embedded
Keep on writing
I let you know if you can ever ever reach my level
Mean while keep on watching
You know the old saying
Practices makes perfect
Writers cramp player haters stay away from me
Don't even try to waste your time
Trying to get like me
I can write for days so watch out what you say
You hitting my line for advices
OK, the pencils are sharp, erasers are handy
And the paper is fresh for writing.
The chair is comfortable, my clothes are warm
And the room has plenty of lighting.
This poem is going to be huge and epic,
It will say everything that’s on my mind.
Every emotional truth, an epiphanous proclamation,
Every adjective will be underlined.
Now, think, what will I write about, what words will I use,
What sentence will I utilise at the start?
Will it sound like a story, a personal story or
Will I just write it straight from my heart?
Hmmmm… all these decisions are tricky, I need to relax,
Might make a quick cup of tea.
That’s better, my brain has calmed down,
My mind, it can wonder now it’s free.
Nup, still got nothing, maybe today I’m not meant to write,
Might turn off this small writing lamp.
Maybe I should just admit to myself,
I got hit with the dreaded writer’s cramp.
Writer's cramp is constipation of the brain
For relief you treat it about the same
Stick a finger in your ear, (no not way down there)
Wiggle it until a thought appears
Then express with all your might
Write it down and get it right
And after you read what you wrote
Always beware and have some hope
Because if it sounds just like you heard it
You know you've written a piece of s--that'll do.
Sitting here trying to rhyme
But all I am doing is wasting time
I can’t seem to start a sentence
With two words to rhyme in sequence
I just wanted to express my feelings
Something snappy and appealing
Or maybe a little dark and mysterious
Or light and funny nothing to serious
But here I am staring at this blank page
With my words locked up in my minds cage
If I could find the key and set them free
I would write my feelings in rhyming poetry
too much on the bloody mind,
canna concentrate half the time,
write about the demons babe,
put in words what eer ya crave,
let exageration calm the wit,
pump words out a little bit,
n have a great time....
thanks you p.d.
Don
BEING A TRAMP IS GIVING ME A CRAMP
I am a transient and I like it that way
I am a philosopher with intellectual utterances to say
I can’t remain in one place for a very long stay
Because I owe too many dealers money I cannot pay
So if you hear that I’m at someone’s house call me there
Right now I’m at Sophia’s so you can call me here
So tell me brother, what’s the word on the street
Is it safe for Big Black Bruce and I to meet?
“are you crazy man, why not just hop into a fire?
Big Black Bruce thinks you’re a thief and a liar”
Well how about coming to my defense bud?
“hey look, if any is spilled its going to be only your blood”
He’ll let me stay there, but only for a few days
And she’ll allow me to crash there but she has very odd ways
She thinks because we’re together under the same roof
That makes me something I’m not so I act aloof
I have to travel about looking in all direction at once
I suppose it’s called once a dunce always a dunce
If I had to tell the truth it’s getting tiring to roam
But what do you do when you gave up your family and your home?
© 2011.….free cee! PHREEPOETREE
BEING A TRAMP IS GIVING ME A CRAMP
I am a transient and I like it that way
I am a philosopher with intellectual utterances to say
I can’t remain in one place for a very long stay
Because I owe too many dealers money I cannot pay
So if you hear that I’m at someone’s house SIMPLY call me there
Right now I’m at Sophia’s so you can call me here
So tell me brother, what’s the word on the street
Is it safe for Big Black Bruce and I to meet?
“are you crazy man, why not just hop into a fire?
Big Black Bruce thinks you’re a thief and a liar”
Well how about coming to my defense bud?
“hey look, if any is spilled its going to be only your blood”
He’ll let me stay there, but only for a few days
And she’ll allow me to crash there but she has very odd ways
She thinks because we’re together under the same roof
That makes me something I’m not so I act aloof
I have to travel about looking in all directionS at once
I suppose it’s called once a dunce always a dunce
If I had to tell the truth it’s getting tiring to roam
But what do you do when you gave up your family and your home?
© 2011.…~.free cee!~
I once wrote a poem when i felt really cynical
all the letter's had pointed sharp edges.
another time i wrote a poem about a drunk dyslexic
it read in mumbles from right to left.
and this one time i wrote a poem about
a pen that had internal bleeding, it leaked words
when slanted between the thumb and forefinger
it filled pages of notebook's, and ruined
many a pair of pants in the wash,
but i dried it in the dryer and now it is dead.....
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