The Writing Block

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  • Claw the Wall
  • Falling Love
  • Human Sanctity
  • A Bright One
  • Morning Drizzle
  • Awake
  • Recalling Belongings
  • Bunnies and Sunshine
  • Ritualistic Worship
  • Spin
  • Dreams were what they Wanted
  • Kindle
  • Two Seconds
  • Oh Pretzel...
  • General Anger
  • Twenty Feet Up
  • Lost
  • Shooting Star
  • Live Wire
  • I Am
  • A Forgotten Plight
  • Realism
  • Guilded Vision

    Claw the Wall

    10/5/99; 11:06 AM

    It rolls across the ground
    And it trickles down
    Across the sunshiny ray
    Today's promises are just tomorrow's problems

    The sky is falling the rooster crows
    And the crows flutter their wings
    In a total state of panic
    Their feathers fall to the ground
    And tumble across the logs of the lost

    They can't build a brick house
    They are wood
    Trees and stone, they ain't the same thin
    Sure they both make houses
    But which will survive the winter wind?

    I now travel from the dry lake
    All day, and this story ain't great
    Why do I speak of turmoil?
    No one listens, they have no answers
    Could anyone lend a hand
    In the fight I fought alone?

    Falling Love

    10/6/99; 6:48 PM

    I know it may have hurt
    I know you might not want to hear it
    I know your heart is kinking
    With twings that make the pains keep lasting
    But please don't let it go
    No, let it show
    You know we need it there

    Never fear my dear
    The day of waiting time is over
    Over here my love
    There is something else I need to show you

    And have you checked the clock?
    The time has come to be departed
    Away, to that great place
    The land of many secret warrants

    No I won't
    Yes, you don't
    This time of season is just getting started
    Oh beware
    Of the past
    Or these fleeting times will flee forever

    But the last time you spoke to me
    I learned that forever had ended
    And now a new adventure's started

    Humane Sanctity

    10/6/99; 7:02 PM

    Intrinsic thoughts whittle my soul
    Is it a form of cleansing?
    I can't take the time
    To try to find just what's happened to me
    The past is over
    The future is yet to blossom
    Yes, I've lost
    But that doesn't mean I still can't win

    The dirtiest windows catch the sun's rays best
    Should I invoke such a strategy
    Should one such fool tell another to bathe in mud?
    It isn't much to advocate

    But think of the implications of this divination
    The sun warms one's soul
    Melts it to the bone
    It doesn't scrape it like the other methods
    This madness may indeed bring sanity in our time

    But bones must be scraped
    The sun can melt but so much
    One thing is never that easy
    Embrace the joys and sorrows of life
    And don't forget the human touch

    A Bright One

    10/9/99; 6:14 PM

    To cross a lake or to cross a river?
    Everything is at stake
    It all hinges on one decision
    That will carry much debate

    The ambitious fellow would say
    "Cross the lake!
    The challenge that it brings us
    Will happily lengthen the day."

    But in the party of laziness
    The ambitious one is shut off
    His ideas shut out
    The slackers paint only with gray pastels

    "But it gets the job done!" he pleads
    "We'd have to build a boat"
    "We'd have to get our feet wet"
    "What about the sands on the shore?"
    The three's complaints
    Outweighs the one's bright idea
    They cross the river and move to dispair

    They were forever lost in the ensuing forest
    Their frost bitten blood froze their veins
    Four died, three false, one true
    Only one of whom checked the lake
    And saw it was three feet covered in winter's ice

    Morning Drizzle

    10/11/99; 8:14 AM

    A time to be gone and away from here
    I don't want to be back again
    There were tines I'd say "I'll be back by nine"
    There were times I'd cry "Everything will be all right"
    But the times tonight pass quickly
    And now the sun will rise

    But now before a harmonious deluge
    Of the most cold and wet stuff you've seen yet
    Why must everyone hate the rain?
    What's wrong with getting your hair wet,
    Or everything being soaked?
    It's not the rain's fault it is that way

    Skip merrily through the rose gardens
    Even if you do happen to slip in the mud
    And get five thorns in your butt
    Roll around a little more
    Smell the flowers on your way home
    For the storm's only as bad as you make it

    Tell me your story again
    Tell me why you think the rains are so bad
    If you tell me it shows your mood
    Please don't tell me it's full of gloom

    Funny how so many people curse the rain today
    Yet they love sleeping with it every chance they get


    10/12/99; 7:18 AM

    They were dreams I had yesterday
    They were coming true last time I checked
    That is until I woke up
    Then all the dreams left

    I was placed in a bitter cold wind
    Completely exposed, my senses took it all in
    I shivered at the fluid bellows
    I shook at the howling wind
    My arms and legs were stiff like sticks
    My stomach churned with the gust

    That is until I let it all out
    I was the source
    And they were the dreams
    Maybe this hopeless, hapless reality can be filled again
    If not, I did what I could
    Maybe they'll listenÖ

    A world without dreams
    A world lacking desire
    A very quiet world indeed
    No one ever reaching for the stars
    For they think someone else is grasping them
    Their dreams left long ago

    Recalling Belongings

    10/12/99; 3:42 PM

    They tear the walls
    Up and down they worked
    To the right they threw their bricks
    And left them to be collected

    Two days until the garbage man would come
    But how long until he notices the bricks?
    If walls could talk
    And love to tell stories
    Can a pile of rocks have one that isn't boring?

    The sun rises and rinses the water off the stones
    Liquid left by an unkept sprinkler
    Flowers don't grow with the spring morning's dew
    Quite like the mossy grasses do

    No one notices the bricks
    A few days, and they're gone
    They were collected by the mother of all
    Shapely sculptures of mortar
    Have finally returned where they belong

    Mother taught us never to steal
    Might she have to teach us again?
    That it's wrong to steal from Mother Nature
    Even if it's for your homely den

    Bunnies and Sunshine

    10/14/99; 2:38 PM

    The little bunny hopped through the meadows
    His eyes drenched with the beauty around
    The sun smiled down upon him
    And little bunny liked his rays

    Then one day a factory was built
    Turning the meadow into urban area
    The little bunny had nowhere to run or to hide
    But the sun couldnít see him

    The little bunny hopped across the street
    He scurried fast as cars screamed past him
    To the median, but half the street left
    No one was so kind as to let the bunny by
    And the sun got angry

    Rays of pure heat blazed in the sky
    The little bunny couldnít believe the sight before him
    People staggering slowly down the streets
    Begging him for water
    Not a single rain shower passed for five weeks
    Then the factory exploded

    The former meadow was now a mess
    Where once was a tree, then a factory
    Had just been turned to muck
    There was nothing here in the land before him
    So the little bunny hopped his way to the forest

    Ritualistic Worship

    10/19/99; 7:10 AM

    The sky fell through the holes
    And the sun rose up
    The darkness was funneled out

    And the bright day was ushered forward
    The people wondered where the moon went
    Had it exploded?
    Did it leave?
    Will we ever see it again?

    Not if the oneís will is upheld
    He loves his tan
    And it didnít matter if his cancer was growing
    His skin was patchy
    His blood was poisoned
    But he never thought of the fallout

    The one was proud of his nation
    But his country was being baked
    Sure, he might not be as light as he used to be
    But his people were bubbling like grilled cheese

    The old man forgot about his plastic figurines
    He never played with them anyhow
    Always being obsessed with his humorously chiseled composure
    He would never let the sun set on him
    Even when the moon came out


    10/21/99; 11:03 AM

    The top is spinning too fast
    But it canít cut the steel floor
    It wants to go down
    But can only go around and around
    Never reaching its solution

    Nonetheless it starts to lower
    And in time, it begins to stop
    All the things must come to an end
    Even if they never started

    The topís legs were cut from under it
    The cold table never let it through
    It frowned upon the topís attempt
    But laughed as it tried
    Seeing all it could do was run in circles

    The top stopped spinning
    It sat there
    Restless, but unable to move
    What was it supposed to do,
    Flip over and roll away?

    The table,
    What an ingenious invention
    It keeps things where itís supposed to
    It does what its told
    And no one ever questions it

    Dreams were what they Wanted

    10/22/99; 11:33 AM

    The visions of their holding rose above the sky
    Their mindfulness of their merriment
    Kept them dreaming of the places
    Where they might not venture
    That is, until their dreams were won

    At last, the lands were open
    Their eyes closed, and they saw bright blue sky
    Bonded forever with the heavens
    Where they might find secret treasures
    It wasnít the journey they thought of
    But the reward

    ďTravel away from day today,
    To nights and gleaming stars,
    And even if tomorrow is never here again,
    There will still be a sunset before Iím gone!Ē

    The old men were singing this in the bar
    Everyday dreaming of dreams achieved
    All they did was wait by their imaginary phone
    Feeling all alone
    That is, until they got a call

    A crowd stumbled from the tavern
    Running to the greener pastures of their lies
    Imagination can make someone sparkle sometimes
    But life isnít always so kind

    They ran to the field
    They looked to the moon
    They though that their dreams
    Wouldnít and couldnít come true
    Even though they thought they should

    Enraged and expired
    Most all of them moaped to the bar
    For another round of cold fire
    That is, all but one

    Oh, he was the true dreamer
    He grinned towards the moon
    Much like it had always done to him
    He gazed in satisfaction
    His dreams made him soar
    And the stars were shining below

    A twilight later the bar emptied
    With old men detesting their barroom lullaby
    Most crossed around the field to go home
    They didnít want their dreams anymore

    But a select few crossed the pasture
    Continuing to search for the dream they lost
    Starting to be shocked when they saw the dreamer in solitude
    Staring at the lonely setting moon

    They mocked him as they passed
    Then left him alone
    They had lost their way home
    But the dreamer had just found his


    10/25/99; 7:04 AM

    Everyone brought their light to reunite
    Through the misty shadows
    They knew where everyone was
    The veil of the night should hinder oneís sight
    But these people have no such problems

    They met in the bogs
    Not for a midnight B-B-Q
    Even though it couldíve passed as such
    No, they were there to cook something else
    The demon that was themselves

    A bonfire flared in the middle of five rings
    People danced frantically around it
    And the moment that someone tripped and fell
    Would be the moment the fire grew taller

    And with every fall the people danced faster
    Worried that they may be the next fuel to the fire
    But the faster they danced
    The quicker they stumbled
    The harder they fell
    And the slower they burned

    Eventually there was one man left
    He didnít know what to do
    The fire had consumed everyone he knew
    And it loomed over him with no mercy
    Without a thought, the man burned too

    Two Seconds

    10/27/99; 7:14 PM

    You looked at me
    One last time for the first time
    Before, you would quickly turn away
    Today however, you seemed different somehow
    Especially in the way you smiled

    You hand me a shall shred of paper
    ďGoodbyeĒ you say and turn around
    ďGood dayĒ I saw in reply
    one second had thus passed by
    and eternity through my mind

    why give me a note?
    Why shed me a smile?
    Is there some secret you wish to tell me,
    Yet you choose to wait a while?

    Have I ever wondered such a mess
    Emotions may do such things
    But you left me a small token of friendship
    That now rests peacefully in my hand

    And I glance down to see your token
    What sort of token could it be?
    Too bad that when my eyes meet the sheet
    It turns out to be blank and empty

    But I feel the ink clinging to my palm
    The second second passes, and youíre gone

    Oh PretzelÖ

    11/3/99; 12:50 AM

    There were those times so long ago
    Where I didnít know where to go
    What to do where
    And when to do what in that specific way
    But those times have long passed

    I sit at my table
    Twirling my current snacking victim around my finger
    Poor little pretzel
    Your twisted goodness
    And your warped and salty taste
    Leave me to desire a glass of water
    That will wash away your memory after youíre eaten

    Lackidasically I look up
    I guess Iím still working on the ďwhenĒ part of the ďwhatĒ question
    Queries scrape my mind
    As sharp nails do to a chalkboard
    And everyone knows the natural reaction

    With a quick cringe of pain
    And a twitch of the hand
    I drop my pretzel of the Harris Teeter brand
    What a hilarious fate
    You spoony and deranged snack
    I kill you with my mind
    As opposed to attacking you with my teeth
    Leaving my freedomís free will to leave you in four on the floor

    General Anger

    11/3/99; 1:01 AM

    It burns, it tingles
    It itches, boils, aches, cakes,
    And itís welling, isnít that swell.

    Once again it approaches
    Once again I let it in
    Once again it brings good company
    Who bring good will for my next of kin
    But it canít stay too long
    Itís got much to do
    So it kindly leaves me with the tab

    Five hours of dish washing later
    The bill is paid and I book it home
    Where I belong
    Where my heart meets my soul

    It retracts, it stops
    It spills over again
    Yes, general anger has set in
    And it grows with the setting sun

    Can he smell it? Doubt it.
    Can he see it? Weíll see
    Iíll let him get what he needs
    He has gotten a good tally of bad karma
    And itís my job to take it away

    Blacken my name I may
    But I will surely win the day
    It spits, bands the walls, and begins to grow again

    Twenty Feet Up

    11/8/99; 7:18 AM

    It fell from the tree ever so slowly
    But it fell faster as it dropped to the ground
    It disdained its destination
    The timing wasnít right
    And the meeting would mean its demise

    It used to whistle while it worked
    Running itself up and down the tree
    Dodging bees as it jumped from limb to limb
    But its life wasnít that easy

    What it was was a constant struggle
    Lifeís fruit constantly shrank away
    It ran from the trouble
    And the vile stench it emitted
    But it ran blindly enough
    And fell with it

    They fell from the tree
    One slowly disdaining the fall
    One quickly hoping to end it all
    One wished for escape
    One wanted to get away
    And now the conclusion of their misadventure
    Will be the end of their days


    11/8/99; 1:11 PM

    The threshold awaits those who wish to take it
    But never have so many tried and failed
    So many bright people be turned to dust
    So many lives lost
    So many hopes turned out

    Silence washes away the memories
    Of the good olí days and good olí times
    Silence joins all the ones that are lost
    When the final charge is called out

    They used to be a misguided bunch
    Now theyíre a bunch of dismembered parts
    Their only desire was to live
    But solitary minds lead to dim fortunes
    And if their only hope was to die with glory
    Then at least they got something out of it
    That is, unless murderous deeds plague the dishonored soul

    Dishonorable deeds for an honorable cause
    Only they would be so stupid
    As to uphold such morals
    ďKill or be killedĒ isnít the only principle of life
    But itís a great way to die

    They were lost in the mess of their misfortunes
    They lost hope in their bad luck
    And when they looked around and saw the meaning
    And the meaning of the struggle was lost to them

    Shooting Star

    11/10/99; 2:11 PM

    It streaked across the sky
    Itís sole path straight and narrow
    But lacking direction
    Itís falling quickly and it burns brightly
    But in the end itís lost

    The ocean whispered to me as it disappeared
    And it said that such things werenít meant to be
    ďA bright flickering hope
    Giving one a bright glaring light
    Can only come to pass with no consequence

    It was very much an illusion
    I will give the ocean that
    But such illusions are what a bide our time
    They can become very much of an alibi

    Or maybe they may be the wings of the angel
    The one who watches us ever so closely
    Maybe their wink of no consequence
    Can have many great repercussions
    But is this the only way they can help us?

    The ocean, large, grand, and wise
    Once again bellows about my demise
    It speaks to me like I am in the wrong
    Taking the straight and narrow to try to get home
    But only burning out before I get there

    Live Wire

    11/15/99; 7:11 AM

    It flails along as long as it can
    Flapping and writhing
    Like a victim that wasnít completely murdered
    Its lifeline was cut
    And itís infinite blood pours out
    Scorching everything it touches

    It drips forth from its severed vein
    And disperses quickly
    Every drop of blood that flows forth
    Is one less thought to ponder
    One less dream to leave us to wonder
    And it seems as if it will never run out

    And every time one more leaves
    One more agony seems to emerge
    But such is the fate of such lonely torture

    No one knows how to fix it
    No matter that no one knows how
    For this is the form of bleeding
    That will scare everyone in the crowd

    And all they did was run
    And all they could do was hide
    For the fear they help could leave them short
    Of leading a longer life

    I Am

    11/15/99; 2:29 PM

    ďI amĒ was his final line
    And he struggled greatly to make it
    His final words were nowhere as bold as he wanted them
    For he was caught to early to get the sentence started
    And he didnít even finish what he had to say

    What would he dictate?
    If that waning moment
    Had been a moment longer,
    Would those dying words have been any stronger?

    But such is fate
    When oneís breath is taken away
    By being caught so aghast
    By that dreaded sight
    With a hatchet driven into his back

    His final words were more like a final cough
    Lifeís ebb clogged his lungs
    Clotting his voice
    Imprisoning him in his own life
    And thus he brought his own demise

    But for turmoilís sake he wasnít in the wrong
    Thereís no way he could have been
    Except that the hatchet wasnít left in

    A Forgotten Plight

    11/22/99; 7:02 AM

    A final step
    A shudder of excitement
    Then, a stumble and a fall

    Your parents wonít remember it at all
    To them, only your first steps will remain
    Forever, in that odd way that parents remember things

    But to you
    The sole disgrace that was the final one
    Will make you forever wish you had none such memory

    They were so proud of you
    During your time of self enduced enragement
    They laughed so unforgivingly
    As they watched you pound the floor in disgust

    Finally, you had walked from there to here
    Officially becoming a child
    And no longer a babe
    But you wanted more
    And you knew you couldíve had it
    If only you hadnít shuddered, stumbled, and fell

    Soon after you stood to travel some more
    But you tried to hard
    And fell on the floor

    You were engulfed in a bitter rage
    Not being able to achieve what you had before
    But your biggest woe was the pride mom had
    When she hoisted you off the floor
    Her smile the dagger that stabbed your soul


    11/22/99; 10:58 AM

    It was a beautiful day yesterday
    The doctors tell me with a smile
    The sun blazed through the purple morning sky
    And oh did the clouds glisten so high above
    They say it was much like a dream
    That one never remembers come the morning haze

    The doctors have yet to tell me about today
    I think I can hear rain
    But it could be more acorns falling from the trees
    Much like they were for two days last week
    I canít be sure, that fairly certain
    For my dormitory has no window
    Leaving me to gaze at a gray ceiling

    But what about the time I heard thunder
    The doctors assured me there was none
    There were utility people clearing trees
    So the hospital could have more sun
    Or, so the doctors tell me
    For the sun doesnít reach my cell

    They said men were chopping down trees?
    If so, they mustíve cleared the entire city
    And what about the chaos I heard in the halls
    Lumberjacks donít get paid to cut the wrong way

    Curse those doctors, they have stolen my sight
    And I bet tomorrow will be beautiful too

    Guilded Vision

    11/23/99; 11:47 AM

    I closed my eyes in the lower garden of the palace
    Violently vibrant colors scorching my eyes
    But thatís not why they are shut

    One doesnít see completely with their eyes
    The fragrant fumes of the dandelions
    The damp dew clinging to oneís toes
    A blind man sees plenty more
    Than what we choose to see ourselves

    Curse these eyes of mine
    I ought to just rip them out
    What good do they do when your vision goes bad
    Leaving you straining to see what you seek
    When you can just as easily smell it out

    But my eyes are two treasures I must keep
    Senses are only what you make of them
    And sight is the most selective of all
    Would one rather smell a beggar by the stall
    Or just look the other way and not seem him at all
    Thus, having the choice to block him out

    I choose to see what I wish,
    So that I can miss all things important.
    I wish to concern myself with all important things,
    And completely ignore the rest.
    Should I just rip one eye out?

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    All writings are copyright of Chris Ward 1998-1999