words of a people aligned in their perfect order
I have decided that today is going to be a day off from the blog – no slings or arrows, no tempting a sea of troubles – since I am in a creative drought anyway I might as well take advantage of it and go to the range then mow the lawn.
have a spectacular spectacular day.
with much affection,
Jhon Baker
later, after range and lawn.
my mood waxes and wanes with the day and I find myself in a similar melancholic swing as has been plaguing me as of late.
reading old poems over and over
not knowing what to put out there.
the drought extends itself to judgment;
extends itself to dreaming.
a .357 can solve anything.
but,
I’ve been known to take long walks.
– Hoc Scripsi (unfinished and probably not any good either.)
a creative drought and slowing down. I’ve always hated the term writers block because I am not blocked by anything – especially writers. More than that I am simply not writing well lately which this triggers the fear that I will not write well ever again and have I ever written well. My version of writers blockade is that the ideas may come and there are no words to accompany it, no way in so I bite my bottom lip and try but even the typing is off and uninspired.
the last poem I wrote – the last thing of any value that I had written was a short poem that talks about fingering the muse – maybe I’ve offended the inspiration by thinking too much of my work and not enough of the source. Today’s poem is not that poem. Today’s was written at a point of high creativity – when the muse was working overtime and would wear me out daily, like a good lover or construction labor.
too lax to title
fuck you.
I’m tired,
it was nthing
or something
I forget
butitdoesn’tmatteranyway
Like I said
Fuck you,
I am not working anymore tonight
not for you or anyone
I’m too god damned tired
and sore
I can feel the plate
it’s sickening
like
watching you squirm when
I type out –
you’re wearing the wrong
size underwear
regardless,
I will not write
this
for you
tonight
I am too fucking worn
from the day.
pt. 2
of course I lie.
I’m tired
worn
sore
like a man after a days
work
and you know whatitslike
bang
bang
bang
all fucking day
so, goodnight love.
xxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxx
Let’s do it again tomorrow.
I had posted something here earlier and came to believe it the worst thing I’ve ever written so I am sparing anyone else the haplessness of such writing.
I am sorry to have written it and subjected anyone else to it. Accept this as my deepest and most heartfelt apology if you had read it.
I replace it with the following image…
I am the dog that ate your homework.
