Defeat Comes Galloping Over Bleached White Plains
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Defeat Comes Galloping Over Bleached White Plains
Thumbing through the infinite and scanning random pages,
you solicit the gods for a single verse,
one line
bursting with rockets on acid'
some drug of convenience to heave you
through the scored battlefields of the uninspired depths.
One word.
One hope.
Half of barely
anything'¦
The fingertips begin to bleed a little.
Your core yields to that sucking void.
Enthusiasm crumbles,
resignation seeping from the ruins.
The light dims weaker,
and eyes redden, tired and raw.
Slack lips become film covered.
The muse is never found.
The words never arrive.
Maybe your heart was never there.
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Comment by: foxfyre - 2007-04-10 19:10
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well this hits home.
you make it sound so painful, so full of fustration and misery when we try and try and come up with nothing.
It is. Good write Jay. Perfectly captured moment. |
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| This is another great piece of writing. You have a magical way with words and the way you put them on paper that I'm in awe of! |
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| Your opening stanza was outstanding; to many great lines to try to choose any single one. Jay, this was a finely polished poem. |
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Comment by: tcbswan - 2007-04-07 13:55
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| ah! only you could write so beautifully about not being able to write!! glad to see you--thanks for posting! |
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Comment by: roy - 2007-04-07 10:59
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Well Jay, a little blocked, are we? Love your style and use of english in your writings, though. Yes a tough passion we are following, being artists of a sort, bloody romantic, yet not always orgasmic.
Thanks for the read mate.
Roy |
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