Its not so much I can’t think of anything to write,
But I can’t seem to write anything I can think of,
Cannot can I get it down on paper,
Nothing does come out; unable am I to see the light,
Afraid if I do put it down it may come out as a fright,
Better am I to remain as unusually lip tight…
Propagating with dissemination,
My skills for explanative conversation,
Are hereupon called by me for termination,
I do so with much, though reserved trepidation,
Do I make any sense with this herein communication…?
Passed over was I for brains,
At least that is what I think when I do take great pains,
To write something of worth, breaking my internal chains,
For what I do say within this short treatise, must you sustain…
Is this after all a treatise or formal exposition?
I think I do come loaded for bear with non-verbal ammunition,
When in reality I do seem to find of myself,
I am no more than a boring politician,
Stating the obvious while trying to refrain from repetitive repetition…
As always I do ask, have I made any sense herein?
Or should I go back to drinking my bathtub gin?
Sitting on the toilet with my cup in my hand,
Playing for all the world to hear on my one handed violin…
© ed ~ 3/13/05