Sometimes I can’t write….

I go blank,
nothing gets put on the page.
I stare in space
sometimes my frustrations turn to rage.

I squint my eyes,
to see words that are hidden.
I’m trying to move this pen,
but it seems creativity is forbidden.

Speak, scream, say something.
barren are the thoughts in my head,
can’t remember a song, a movie,
a book or what the last word was I said.

Writer’s block, damn it!
Can I really say I have that?
If I’m a so-called writer,
I guess having writer’s block is fact.

Where’s my motivation, where’s my muse?
Oh, how at times words spew out like vomit,
as if I ate a bad word salad,
that was full of words I couldn’t stomach.

Headphones on,
there’s no music in my ear.
I’m blocking out noise,
yet desperately trying to hear.

Sometimes I can’t write…

Really, because why?
Do I have nothing interesting to say?
That’s BS to me, and maybe others,
if anything else I can write about my day.

Who wants to hear,
what goes on in someone’s life?
Quite a few I suspect,
that’s why biographer’s write.

Dreams of being a poet,
seems so far far away.
Talent, time, imagination,
from me sometimes strays.

I’m feeling feelings,
some feel wrong, some feel right.
I’m just venting right now,
because sometime’s I can’t write.