Gridlock

By Electric-Chair

My Inkwell is filled with untold secrets 
And my journal’s blank pages
long for gifted thoughts

I feel expression trapped
in the depth of my soul
Eloquence lays dormant
and rhythmic voice muted 

At night I can hear words
that scream no meaning
Insomnia’s creativity lost in wasted slumber

No thoughts for scorned love
Or passionate words for frolicking soul mates
Suicidal tendency, seem so mundane

Neutered rage feels pointless
No pens dipped in scarlet blood
Or Homicidal adjectives

No clever narcissistic verbiage
Not even one scribbled rant
I'm just stuck getting around the

 “Block”

Unauthorized Copying Is Prohibited. Ask the author first.
Copyright 2013 Electric-Chair
Published on Wednesday, April 10, 2013.     Filed under: "Reflective" and "Poetry"
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Comments on "Gridlock"

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  • dwells On Friday, April 12, 2013, dwells (4288)By person wrote:

    How did you know? I got up a half dozen times last night to write my latest and then polished it this morning and posted. Very accurate in the mental processes (or the lack of sometimes), well done! Thanks

  • FadedBlues On Thursday, April 11, 2013, FadedBlues (2172)By person wrote:

    ...the joy of insomnia that causes a spiraling poetic...

  • Devilish On Wednesday, April 10, 2013, Devilish (2662)By person wrote:

    Absolutely brilliant. Scholar

  • A former member wrote: Sounds like a bad dose of writers block written very well Scholar

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