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Music in. The world out. Treated like a "rock star". And actually trying to sing. I feel like sleeping. But that just isn't happening. But this is what I enjoy. Writing on a napkin.
My love for Opuss is waning And yet I don't know why I still love words and books, stories Yet there's an emptiness inside And so I find myself detaching from The rope from Opuss to me As it grows...
To the poet words are more akin to blood, For without them he cannot become the man he should.
No 'Ruler and the Killer' Today... Again. Been far too busy sitting in a car all day. Tomorrow I'll post 2. Maybe. Sorry though, well only like 2 people read it anyway. Oh well it's fun writing it.
Reacting on an emotion, And writing it on paper, Focusing on the moment, And ripping it apart, Studying thoughts in my head, For the words I once said, Finding the answer, In the deepest...
#emotion You all know the feeling You can't help but grin Your iPhone goes 'meow' Something for you within So you open up your Opuss Can't contain your glee The heart's gone up by one Someone's...
A sudden wave Of inspiration Out of pure silence I just wrote to find out A small phase Of screwy relationships And now that I'm back on track I'm writing more and more I'm excited to see What I...
I sit at my desk - and ideas won't come So I chew my pen, swing my chair, fidget and hum. The sly little bastards - those crafty ideas Have been teasing me daily for long friggin' years.
I'm not a natural writer, I'd be a fool to think I am, But I'm giving it a go, And doing what I can.
Low humming, Whirring, Whining. Mind chugging, Clicking, Pining. Needs to dine, On words so fine. Nothing here to call mine.... Tinnitus. It's all I hear. Tinnitus. Is what I fear.
When I write poetry, you know, I start with a feeling in mind. Or maybe a picture in need of description... Or a situation to undermine. And it'd from these the words grow.
Eek. What are you guys doing to my feed. So many incredible entries to read How on earth can I decide and choose.
Lessons Everywhere Scattered all over the floor Scribbled ideas On post it's on doors New ideas, plans and resources Preparation is the key Losing myself in English you see Always thinking...
I'm popping off for a little while To have a rest and revive my style, My little head is really bare Like Hubbard's cupboard there's nothing there.
Sat tinkering away. On my keyboard I play. Making up tunes. As easy as playing in sand dunes. I think of a rhyme. And suddenly in no time. I'm singing along. I can't bite my tongue.
Composition of your arts The little pieces and parts Puzzle pieces fitting just so Just how you want them to go Shining armor, deadly fires Lightest honesty and deadly liars Adventure and...
#augustwriteaday #abandoned Abandoned is this mind where it lays, Quietly settling to its uninspired ways The busy hands of a clock that ticks, Had I not tried, it would have taken me weeks.
I seemed to have no inspiration today I haven't written anything since yesterday My brain's just gone away and quit It doesn't even want to concentrate enough to knit This is really all I could...
Red, orange, yellow, green. blue, purple. Spilling every color of paint. Coloring, sculpting, leaving the canvas covered in emotions unfortunate taint. Enticed in the colors story, mind hushed.
I've nothin to say. I'm lost for words. I think I will wait. For the singing of birds. For they are my key. My shadow of light. They inspire my opuss. So I get it right. So I'll bid you farewell.
There's a sweet little symbol. At Opuss's core. It's on every post. And it always gives more. It's small and it's pewter. But it can be made yellow. So brilliantly simple. Yet warming and mellow.
It's a vicious cycle, one that has no end. I rhyme and rhyme and rhyme... Till fate will finally send. I need to get it down, before it fills my head. Every paper must have words. All ink must be...
inspiration: "Pain. And lots of it." Misery loves company . . . but generally, company does not love misery back. I mean, when a person is suffering...
When I've not all to do, I don't need a stencil. My thoughts and ideas, Explode from my pencil. I've been at it for years, But I won't say I'm good. But wait 'til you see What's under the hood...