when am I going to get it through my head
that
blank pages are ok
that I am not obligated to fill in every space
that it is not my sole responsibility
to write
the almighty awesomest verse
that will change the world
I am just one person
with myriads
of responsibilities
and yet
every day
the page beckons
like a wood nymph
waving a little spritely hand
clear the cobwebs
forget the lists
pay attention to this page here
someone somewhere needs this
what you think you can have your own life
you think you can just do as you please
like
live your life
no I tell you NO
you my dear were born to write
and write you will
if I have to beat it out of you
you will write and write and write again
you will write till the cows come home
garbage
I’ll be the judge of that
it’s only garbage if I say its garbage
you just put your head in the game
and
keep
spitting it out
ornery little nymph
why couldn’t I get like a nice little muse
like a gentle coaxing sweet dear heart
that
understood
when there is just not a friggin thing to say
No not me, no mine wields an evil whip
mine screams
did you see that, note it baby we are going
to shake up literaturedom with this number
you and me sweetheart
just listen to me
do what I say
shut up your whining
and get to writing
how would you like that monkey on your back
all you dabblers of the words
all you delvers of emotions
poking you always in the back to sit up
slapping lazy hands to get typing
oh
it aint easy being me
and what I ask you what
do I have to show for it
jack
diddly
squat
just some peabrained idea
that how I see it matters
excuse
me
I gotta go murder a muse
where are you you little ogre/nymph
come out
and meet your maker
and when I do strangle this beast
I will wall paper my house with blank pages
because
they really are
beautiful