The Writing Block

The Pen is mightier than the sword, for while the sword can make someone fall with a single swipe, a pen can touch someone with a single swipe

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  • Shimmering
  • Green Light District
  • Playing a Plague
  • Morning Twilight
  • A Catch in the Chase
  • Life is that Way
  • Wished in a Well
  • Sleepless Nights
  • A Man and a Mountain
  • Memorial Service
  • The Birds
  • Looking at Me
  • Working with No Direction
  • Jibberish
  • See Them
  • Bad Day
  • Writing Poetry
  • So Cold
  • Children
  • Muddy Trail
  • Cast Away Again
  • Lead the Follower
  • Orchestra
  • The Day After May
  • Mannequin on the Dance Floor
  • Shoestrings
  • Five Truths


    2/8/00; 2:04 PM

    It was her favorite
    And she always protected it
    Holding it softly near her chest
    And she never let it go
    Until the day she chose to share it

    That day I saw her holding her prize
    She smiled as I approached
    And all I did was wonder why
    She approached me slowly
    Unclasping her hands from what she wished to show me

    It was indeed beautiful
    It shone brightly in the right light
    And there was a glitter about it
    Did it shine from the smile about her?
    But I was all the more surprised
    When she handed it to me

    It was ever so warm
    But my handís were beginning to turn cold
    Some odd chill that I had never felt before
    Her favorite prize fell from my hand
    And began itís plummet to the ground below

    I gasped
    And she shoot her head
    But it landed softly in the grass

    Green Light District

    2/9/00; 3:17 PM

    It was shaking very vigorously
    Almost violently actually
    But it was broken by the silence

    I remember that time well
    Everything all around was falling
    Leading us to deeper ground
    Away to a land we never wished to go
    Our destination was out of sight
    And now is the moment when we depart

    Yet thing were so happy all about
    Everyone everywhere feverishly dancing
    Singing their merry tunes
    Finding delight in everything and everyone
    Was I the only one that noticed
    Whatever might have been going on?
    I saw one light in the distance
    It was fiercely lit green
    Did it permit everyone to do what they wanted
    Everyone that is, except me?

    As we moved further away
    It only grew brighter
    Farther away from my sight
    And closer to everyone elseís

    Playing a Plague

    2/10/00; 7:44 PM

    How are you today?
    ReallyÖoh, I see
    I hear the answer through your quiet nod
    And that blank stare you suddenly show
    That happens to be looking distantly past me

    Are you another one with the desease?
    It seems to be reaching everyone now
    Is you mind weak?
    Have you lost the direction in which you wish to go?
    Have you nothing left to show me,
    Because your life has lost itís glow?

    Oh how I wish there was a cloud in the sky
    So we could see the pretty pictures above
    Maybe then you can laugh at the silliness of it
    And Iíll cry at the mass of humanity up high
    For it is our minds that gives the clouds shape

    Maybe in time the sun will set
    And the blue sky will melt away
    Tomorrow will be that much closer to yesterday

    The clouds will turn from white to red to black
    And when the lights turn out
    Maybe you wonít be so ill
    But even if youíre still hacking and coughing
    At least today is done

    Morning Twilight

    2/10/00; 5:39 PM

    Thereís a knocking at the door
    But thereís nobody home
    Same as yesterday
    Probably true tomorrow
    I may as well try some more

    Bang twice
    And wait once more
    Still, no one is at the door
    Do they refuse to open it?
    Is it only this and more
    That I may have in store?
    If things remain
    And we all know they delight in staying the same
    I will be here all day
    Wondering why thereís nobody there
    And why no one ever invites me to their humble abode

    So I dine on dry wine and crusty crackers tonight
    Eating alone
    Kicking my ever sorer foot into the door
    Why must it refuse to open
    I wish not to take refuge outside
    And be demoted to a recluse in everybodyís eyes

    So all-night I will knock
    And Iíll be caught waiting till morning

    A Catch in the Chase

    2/15/00; 12:23 PM

    The way we went after what we were
    Was quite immaculate really
    Even though we never actually made the trip

    We fell through ditches
    And landed on our troubles
    Further away from our hopes
    And our distresses became our sorrows

    The ditch was quite murky
    And lights grew dim quite quickly
    The mud within was pasty
    Thus, we were all stuck

    What were we so long ago?
    And why do we trivialize the things
    That everyone wishes to show?
    So we show nothing to them
    And share everything with ourselves
    Leaving out everyone and everything else

    We will never know what we were
    For we will always be what we are
    Regardless of the consequences
    And the circumstances
    After all, weíll get out of the ditch eventually

    Life is that Way

    2/16/00; 7:17 AM

    When things are going down
    Hearts are being lost
    And everything I know goes away
    Thing I love will stray
    After all, everything leaves some day
    Life is that way

    If time could stop for an hour
    Finally, Iíd stop and pick the flowers
    Everything will be all right
    Idealism will shine itís light
    Life will fade away some day

    In time I will depart
    Valleys will fill with the flow of my heart
    Everything will be peaceful in the end

    Wished in a Well

    2/18/00; 1:28 PM

    I threw a stone into the wishing well
    I closed my eyes
    And it sunk

    I heard it make one sound
    Then make itís quiet decent to the depths below
    No one knew how deep the well was
    For that was no knowledge that anyone had wished for

    I couldnít hear it sinking
    I wonder if it will drown
    That poor stone that I cast so thoughtlessly
    So that I could wish for things to be well

    Is it worth a tiny stone
    To have a mighty good time?

    My sight is transfixed on the dark water
    Itís murky hue starting to fog
    I can no longer see the stone going down and downer
    It has probably drowned

    Iím sure itís dead
    And that it rest at the bottom

    The stone was scarred by the well
    But my wish wasnít granted
    So I went homeward

    Sleepless Night

    2/22/00; 10:04 AM

    It is raining outside
    With a gentle mist pelting my window
    The shadows from the streetlight
    Are muddled and distorted
    The night is quiet
    And my eyes refuse to shut

    Itís been four hours since I began resting
    The rain had only been here for three
    It started soft
    Then grew louder and harder
    Lulling me off from my potential doze
    Casting me into a sleepier realm

    Two hours ago I heard lightning
    Felt it and saw it too
    And I shivered

    It was obvious the air about was discontented
    But it didnít need to startle me
    Iíve been waiting all of this time for another flash to rattle me
    So that I may drift off to slumber

    Now I am struck watching the granules of water
    Stream down my window
    The wild urban countryside is rendered to a more peaceful chaos
    All for a sleepless nightís viewing pleasure

    A Man and a Mountain

    2/23/00; 11:24 AM

    He was halfway up the mountain
    With daggers in the wind stabbing into him
    He was losing his grip
    But he refused to fall

    He eventually found stability on a small ledge
    Which housed a frozen over corpse to keep him company
    He mustíve died years ago
    Yet his face was still smiling cynically and brightly

    There was wood
    There were rocks
    And suddenly he decided to build a fire
    Heíd neednít worry about climbing any higher
    On this ledge, he could keep warm with a frozen friend

    The kindlen began to burn
    Instantly, his eyes grew bright
    His hair began to thaw
    Everything was going to be all right
    Even if his skin had developed
    A few crusty purple patches

    To his right the man looked in sheer delight
    So that he could begin to exchange tales with the frozen one
    But its face was no longer smiling
    As a matter of face
    It began to melt off

    It happened with a flash
    The man blinked once more
    And the corpse collapsed on the fire
    Dripping and smothering it out
    Until it began to freeze over again
    The mountaineer had lost his only companion

    His heart did the same
    Losing itself in itís refrozen entrapment
    And there was a pain he couldnít let go
    By befriending and killing a pile of bones

    A tear began to form
    And it froze
    His mounting pain of mourning
    Twisting around his soul

    He promised to never climb a mountain again
    Then he fell

    Memorial Service

    2/23/00; 2:13 PM

    Watch me die
    And fade away on a sunny day
    Near the beaches
    So far away
    Maybe today Iíll see things go right
    And tomorrow will be okay

    Now I die
    No more tomorrow
    Or yesterdayís sorrows
    More after the fact issues
    And people wondering how they could bring me back
    Or why I left
    And some will still wait for me to come again

    They all stand without me
    And crowd me when times are low
    Now they stand and crowd my casket
    This wasnít completely the way I wished to go

    One looks down upon me
    As I lay on my back eyes shut and nowhere to run
    What great sorrow their voices show
    Makes me wonder why I had to let myself go

    The Birds

    2/24/00; 12:10 PM

    They are back to haunt me
    They have returned again
    Springtime must be near

    I can try to run from them as much as I wish
    But it is of no use
    They arenít just after me
    But everyone else as well
    Itís times like these that I wish I could run like hell

    But there is nowhere at all to hide
    Every little nook and hidden cranny I can do
    I can still hear them coming
    Even if my ears are shut tight
    Iím sure that theyíre still hunting me

    They were once so beautiful
    In a once upon a time that began many years ago
    Now they are dreadful

    They fill the skies
    Arriving in the spring
    And staying for a month or two or ten
    Maybe someday theyíll never return
    And things will be peaceful again

    Yet if the birds werenít there
    What then would I be running from?

    Looking at Me

    2/24/00; 1:25 PM

    I wonder just what he is thinking
    And why he does what he does
    Whatever could keep him near me?
    When he should be running down the hills gleefully
    Never looking back

    He keeps by my side
    Sometimes forcing himself too often
    Itís okay to be near me
    But what about getting closer?

    Is this fear I fell?
    Or something I havenít felt in awhile
    If not ever before
    But what is it that I fell
    And what shall I say to him?
    NothingÖI donít want to hurt him

    Am I hurting him already?
    Oh, Iím not doing it right am I?
    I have questions with no answers
    That I desire to ask him

    Or do I not know how to question him
    And here he comes, walking down the way
    Approaching me the way he usually does
    With me not knowing what to say

    Working with No Direction

    2/24/00; 1:42 PM

    There is a bumble bee stinging my brain
    And that is why Iím bumbling down the street
    Whoever said I need to get my feet wet
    Forgot to remind me of the mess I was getting into

    Yes my feet are wet
    My shoes are flooded
    And my toes tear apart my socks
    So that my feet can blister some more
    And the souls will bleed with puss

    Flooded feet will burn
    Wretched messes only get worse

    I skipped and tripped off the street
    My head meeting a thick patch of briars
    With thorns piercing my eyes
    Which are not struck blind
    My vision is bleeding red

    I travel now in no particular direction
    With a bushel of thorns surrounding my head
    With white footprints
    And red, salty rain
    I no longer know where the mess is

    The bumblebee has dies
    Yet there is no peace roaming in my mind
    For the sting remains


    2/29/00; 10:52 AM

    Iím at a complete and total unintelligible loss of words
    Frozen solid and never coming out
    No action to be taken
    No discourses of why weíre all forsaken
    Just me standing alone in the world
    Without a clue of what to do

    I see the lonely souls standing in line
    Waiting for another pail of porridge
    They wonder why they live their bleak existence
    But I donít know what to tell them

    The faucet has been shut off
    And the words refuse to spew forth
    Even though I know exactly what to say
    And what to do
    I know that I must do something
    But I stand dumbfoundedly frozen solid instead

    The chance is gone
    The time has passed
    And my opportunity to make an impact with it
    But I have made an impression
    For nothing will do that often

    I sit and watch the moment slip away
    Wondering why I didnít tell what I had to say
    And I stare as someoneís peace of mind goes astray
    Helplessly frozen, and all alone

    See Them

    3/1/00; 1:16 PM

    I can see them staring blankly
    Never blinking
    Never thinking
    I thought I wouldíve said something by now

    They do not hear, speak, nor see
    Yet it helps me see plenty in me
    And why my visions allow me to be who Iíll be

    What do I see
    My eyes are closed
    And they fly around me

    I can fell them
    But do they feel me?
    Where I am, or what I stand for
    Why must I shout when they try to leave
    Still staring blankly

    They fall one by one
    And as soon as I extend my hand
    Another one is gone
    Did he listenÖwouldíve he ever?
    Donít know
    But now his eyes are closed

    I retract my hand
    None of the others even flinch
    Wonder if they know whatís going on
    Or why theyíre standing there

    Bad Day

    3/1/00; 1:38 PM

    Iíve had a bad day
    I donít know what to do
    My pet canary was shot at high noon
    But that was only the beginning

    I went to my car
    To take my canary to the vet
    Her name was Betsy
    And now she has no neck

    But while getting to the car
    I tripped on my dog
    Chipped my chin on the driveway
    Hit my knee on a rubber ball
    That used to be my dogís favorite toy
    Which no longer is lost

    My memory was hazy
    I know someone shot my canary
    I just donít remember whether it was the dog or his ball

    And why is my chin split?
    Why is my life shit?
    Why must we eat fish?
    We have Betsy to throw on the skillet!

    Today is a bad day
    Tomorrow may be the same
    My canary now lies rather lame
    But thatís okay
    His chatterful tweeting was annoying anyway

    Writing Poetry

    3/6/00; 1:38 PM

    I am trapped in a nothing
    That I built around me
    So many years ago

    It wasnít hard to build
    Plenty of people volunteered to help
    They wanted me to construct a wall
    To capture all my dreams
    And they certainly did love my poetry
    But it kept my nightmares in as well

    The nothing started to smell
    Just like anything else
    But it soon infected every part of me
    The nothing made me quite diseased
    But my poetry got better

    It was all around me now
    And reminded me of itís presence everywhere I went
    It would kick me when Iíd try to sleep
    And scowl my stomach whenever Iíd eat
    The nothing was in control

    My poems kept churning
    My dreams and fears uniting
    Into one horrifying scare
    That scared my soul
    And gave me scars to bear

    I wanted out of the wall
    So I climbed really high
    With a pickax in my hand
    With the hope of making it fall
    From the top down

    I almost broke through too
    But once again the nothing pulled me away
    Down to the fog that endowed the ground
    Filling me with unimaginable pain

    The wallís shadow was upon me now
    The sun burnt out before my very eyes
    And now I lay in the fog in the dark
    My poetic voice, trapped in my mind

    So Cold

    3/12/00; 10:50 PM

    The city is very cold
    And even darker
    Nothing much is moving about
    Nothing that matters
    Nor anything of any consequence
    Itís just laying here
    And Iím losing sleep

    There is no dim faint glow above
    The stars have all burnt out
    And I lost my opportunity to catch them long ago
    Now theyíre dead
    And the city is darker
    The sky, much more unforgiving

    No one is watching the city
    This city that I call home
    Why should they, no one wishes to know
    Of the sinister deeds I have committed here
    They are of consequence
    Unlike me

    Everywhere is cold
    Everywhere is darkness
    And itís been bearing down upon me for hours

    There is no use in running
    There is nothing to run from
    So now I must walk into my own outstretched arms
    And hold myself in a cold embrace
    As the sky and the city look down upon me


    3/12/00; 11:00 PM

    There was a child that played in the field
    Where is he now?
    Did a plague of locust eat him
    Did he remember that he had no friends
    Or did he finally grow up somehow

    I barely recall being so innocent
    Running around with the wind in my hair
    Refusing to wash up after romping about
    Throughout the playground

    Those times were long ago
    And innocence is something
    My responsibilities can no long handle

    Poor child
    Some horrible fear mustíve gotten to him
    God damn the nightly news
    The recently unconvicted rapist mustíve gotten to him
    Poor child
    There is no innocence in fear

    The grass sin the field still sways
    But not the same way it used to
    No erratic child runs through it
    Nor the chaos that ensued

    Iím sure it was nothing above
    That caused the child to run off
    Of course he moved on to bigger and better things
    As all children do
    But when I ran off
    My dreams didnít come true

    Muddy Trial

    3/22/00; 1:44 PM

    My foot is stuck in the mudÖagain
    Thatís the fourth time this wretched hour
    I no longer wear my boots
    The wet earth consumed them long ago
    Now my feet are freezing
    And I am as well

    Iíve been told thereís nothing like a gentle spring downpour
    I guess they were right
    I never thought anything could make one so miserable
    Under such a horrible and heartless strife

    The blooms are being struck off the trees
    And I watch them fall erratically to my knees
    Like a pastel moth swarm
    Thatís being pelted by the rain
    Yet the trees are forever budding
    I wonder how they stay that way

    A blossom catches my eye and proceeds to latch onto it
    A sharp burning pain ensues
    This odd petal is white with a few streaks of blue

    I collapse onto the muddy trail
    And it starts laughing quite haughtily
    The rain and blossoms continue to assault me
    Kindly giving me a blanket to stay warm
    Unless itís a death shroud they are sewing

    I close my eyes
    And my foot is no longer with me
    Nothing at all is actually
    Iím all gone
    My soul has ended its weeping
    There is nothing left to cry
    So it beings itís eternal sleeping

    The blossoms continue to fall
    The rain will never stop
    A tranquil spring will continue without me
    For Iíve been buried in the muddy trails
    Forever forgotten
    In a world where the light dies quietly

    Cast Away Again

    3/28/00; 1:40 PM

    It has left again
    And Iím alone
    Totally and completely
    I am left with the things that surround me

    They never looked on in admiration
    Only in wonder
    Asking why I was the way I was
    And why I still persist in my ways
    One reason is because it left me
    And I am filled with dread

    When it started walking out the door
    I only let it walk
    There was nothing I could do to stop it
    Trying would only push it faster

    My surroundings were oblivious to my plight
    In my breaking state they spoke in harsher tones
    Demanding me to empty my soul

    Which had nothing to give to being with
    Everyone wanted everything
    I had nothing left to give
    On my plate I had no dinner
    In my mind I once held many things dear
    But I dropped them
    And they all left
    Never to return here

    Yet I continue to reach for the light in the distance
    With my ankles shackled to the ground
    Everyone around them has a key
    But why the hell would they wish to free me?

    I am not valuableÖ
    I have nothing left to give
    So no one wishes to see me
    Much less give a helping hand

    It works the same way everyday
    This godforsaken land clasp my hand
    And cast me into the pit before me
    Never to be saved
    Never to return
    Just left to lay there and burn

    And they all watch me fall below
    Not a one waving goodbye
    They leave me there in my demise

    I have left them
    I am lonely

    Lead the Follower

    4/4/00; 1:45 PM

    When I look forward
    I feel them scratch my back
    And they approach me right and left
    Wanting to shake my hand
    But I only have two to share

    So I turn the other way
    And they begin to pull my hair
    Everyone wishes to grab a lock
    But no one wishes to share

    The sun sinks below the horizon
    But no one is watching

    I turn about twice more
    Everyone tries to help me
    No one can reach my surrounded body
    For they see me for what I look like
    But they know nothing of who I am

    The sky is darker
    The sun has passed to the other side
    Oh how I wish to join it

    Maybe if I take the path I didnít yesterday
    The one that wouldíve led me home
    That place Iíve been yearning for
    Where my mind has rested since days before
    Maybe then I could join it there

    The crowd leaves
    Their stomachs quenched from ravenous feeding
    My heart is still beating
    But itís losing its vigor quickly

    They came looking for nothing
    They had nothing to gain
    There was nothing I could give them
    They had nothing for me to receive
    Yet they all still came looking for me

    So I lay here now
    My back still itching
    With no hair left to call my own
    With nothing at all to call my own
    Except for nothing, which is all around me

    The sun has escaped with plight
    I shouldíve followed it


    4/28/00; 8:02 AM

    I remember the last time I heard the orchestra play
    That was a very long time ago
    And there isnít much to remember
    Except that their melodies were long and slow

    The strings were soft and taunt
    And the bows passed over them like skipping rocks
    The horns blared loudly
    Making my hairs stand tall and tightly
    Much like the taunt strings

    But the horns grew quieter
    And the bows hopped with less vigor
    Lulling myself and the air with a lullaby

    I donít remember much else
    For I had been put to sleep
    By the impresarios baton
    Dreaming of soft strings, softer horns
    And a quiet melody

    The Day After May

    5/5/00; 2:08 PM

    Spring has finished its final approach
    And now it shall begin to recede
    And so shall I with summerís searing heat

    I have already begun to wilt
    And since I have a cup but nothing to drink
    It is only a matter of time until my leaf falls off the tree

    When I descend I will probably be sleeping
    Since such warm summer days make babies cry
    And make old me like me shut their eyes

    I can fell the brown splotches forming
    My skin if finally becoming disgusting
    I am no longer youthful and pretty
    But rather, an old leaf wilting before its time
    And even the insects dare not approach me

    Mannequin on the Dance Floor

    5/5/00; 2:24 PM

    They dance merrily all around
    But I canít find it in me to lift my feet
    It doesnít matter that they are made of lead
    For I cannot feel the rhythm
    And I cannot dance

    I see her beautiful and graceful movements
    I see her finger beckoning me towards her
    But I donít want to embarrass myself
    Especially in front of many and many a stranger

    I should make a mad dash for the door
    But my feet are bolted to the floor
    So I canít run when I see her flowing towards me

    She smiles and says hello
    And with that I finally move
    Making a nervous smirk and a full fledged blush
    She repeats her greeting
    But I look past her
    Begging helplessly that I was at the door
    Wishing that I had never appeared here
    Wishing that I was at home, alone

    She takes my hand
    Her fingers feel soft as silk and just as smooth
    There is nothing that I can do
    I have to let go
    I have to stop being a mannequin on the dance floor


    5/22/00; 12:13 PM

    Itís five minutes before my ride to the park will arrive
    And I am running very late
    My pants have just covered my skin
    And my shirt will soon be joining them
    This is quite a consequence for oversleeping
    And here I am in my bedroom changing

    Strap the belt through the second hole
    Button the shirt one short of the throat
    Unravel the ends of the sleeves
    Peel apart the socks
    This wigís like a mop
    And where have the shoes run off to?

    Under the bed
    Around the bed
    Near the bed
    I didnít take them off before I went sleeping
    Maybe theyíre in the bathroom
    Yes! Resting beside the john
    I remember taking them off while reading

    One minute remains
    Thereís still a chance Iíll be ready

    Just left are the shoes
    Oh these stubborn loafers
    Inconveniently refusing to cover my feet
    First right, then left,
    Theyíre on, Iím dressed!
    But I have very little time to tie them

    A simple bow knot
    Cross the laces and pull the strings
    Loop the loop and loop again
    Pull it apart and there itÖdamn it!
    The laces slipped out, better try again

    A simple bow knot
    Cross the strings and pull the laces
    Do it the same but with much more care
    Pull them apart, but they unravel again!

    I hear a car outside
    It stops and the horn begins to blare
    I am frantic, my shoes remain despotic
    These damn shoestrings only bring me dispair

    Itís been five minutes
    My ride to the park is here
    And I am still running late

    "Five Truths" - From Octagon

    7/26/00; 12:06 PM

    Answers are everywhere...
    Everywhere is everyone...
    Everyone has questions...
    Questions leave doubts...
    Doubts kill answers...

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    All writings are copyright of Chris Ward 1998-1999