Wish I Could Come Up with Something

I wish I could come up with something,

I really do.

I mean how long can it take for inspiration to strike?

Do I have to stand outside in an electrical storm under the tallest Norfolk pine to be struck?

Metaphorically speaking, of course.

I know slouching around doesn’t help or reading Beth’s poem on Cheetos and working up an appetite for snack foods won’t do it either.

Maybe if I played with my Rubik’s Cube like Maro does might do it — loosen up a few brain cells.

I’m desperate.

Perhaps if I go outside and wail beneath the full moon like uncle did before they took him away.

God, there must be something.

They still do ECT, don’t they?

That’s what happened to uncle. He saw God, angels, the whole shebang then settled down among the fairies at the bottom of the garden.

But he found something. He wasn’t wracked anymore. He found quiescence. If you got that, you don’t need anything else.

Shit, did I just write all that?

21 thoughts on “Wish I Could Come Up with Something

  1. I know the feeling! Some days I’m as empty as a plastic bucket, left in the garden with no rain. On those days I look at photos, read other people’s writing, shrug my shoulders and sometimes go to bed early. But it’s okay to be empty sometimes. I have been told that you set goals that are achievable so my goal is to “try to write something every day”. You can’t fail at trying, as long as you’re honest in the attempt. Failing is bad for the morale. But you did something better. You wrote your trying and found a poem in it. 😀

    Liked by 4 people

  2. Found a good tap on an underground spring of creativity, now it bubbles, gurgles, roars, and trickles over me. Just loving myself and feeding my passions: art, music, nature. I indulge myself without feeling bad, and the well is full again. Here’s to your uncle, and should our mutual never-ending well of fantastical things never be buried early again for another.

    Liked by 3 people

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