I have thought about you,
every single day of this fortnight.
You are my new fascination and as a principle,
I write about my stimulants.
So on the final sabbath of this fortnight,
I sat on my desk,
with my feather,ink and parchment
ready to pour out my thunderous feelings
inform the world of my savage desires.
Tell of your appetizing human landscape
and how your anthems make my heart run amok.
Your image was stuck in my head,
and I arrogantly assumed; as usual,
that the words would flow out easy-peasy.
But Alas!
No words!
I had bumped into what educated scribes call a writer's block.
Hysteria set in!
For the first time in my pen-pusher's life,
I lacked words!
"Tyranny!" I thought.
"Who is this fiend of a man that leads me to betray Prospero My Pen?!"
You refused to get out of my mind and onto my parchment.
You stood firm in my tiny head,
filling every brain cell with your presence,
leaving no room for my words,
which words define my existence
and give Prospero and I grand earthly purpose.
This meant that chances were, i was being unfaithful to my Prospero.
A cheating partner!
Dispeakable, unworthy harlot!
An immoral shameless bed-hopper!
Jezebel's kind.
So I had to select,
between you: fresh faced and oh so kissable
and my faithful Prospero,
who heals my soul and occasionally feeds my tummy.
Predicament, ha?
With a heavy sobbing heart,
I rejected the well set up, majestic, husky anthem man,
that you constitute,
and chose my Prospero.
Pronto! the audacious writer's block,
crumbled like biscuit,
and I wrote.....
till I ran out of ink.
every single day of this fortnight.
You are my new fascination and as a principle,
I write about my stimulants.
So on the final sabbath of this fortnight,
I sat on my desk,
with my feather,ink and parchment
ready to pour out my thunderous feelings
inform the world of my savage desires.
Tell of your appetizing human landscape
and how your anthems make my heart run amok.
Your image was stuck in my head,
and I arrogantly assumed; as usual,
that the words would flow out easy-peasy.
But Alas!
No words!
I had bumped into what educated scribes call a writer's block.
Hysteria set in!
For the first time in my pen-pusher's life,
I lacked words!
"Tyranny!" I thought.
"Who is this fiend of a man that leads me to betray Prospero My Pen?!"
You refused to get out of my mind and onto my parchment.
You stood firm in my tiny head,
filling every brain cell with your presence,
leaving no room for my words,
which words define my existence
and give Prospero and I grand earthly purpose.
This meant that chances were, i was being unfaithful to my Prospero.
A cheating partner!
Dispeakable, unworthy harlot!
An immoral shameless bed-hopper!
Jezebel's kind.
So I had to select,
between you: fresh faced and oh so kissable
and my faithful Prospero,
who heals my soul and occasionally feeds my tummy.
Predicament, ha?
With a heavy sobbing heart,
I rejected the well set up, majestic, husky anthem man,
that you constitute,
and chose my Prospero.
Pronto! the audacious writer's block,
crumbled like biscuit,
and I wrote.....
till I ran out of ink.
NOTE: When I was younger I wrote like this. Thanks to books, Gideon Chumo and exercise, I am a better writer. As amateurish as the poem may be, all rights are still reserved muahahahaha!
