Every few hundred years or so, the dark gods who still dwell in the Earth
call upon us word-juggling mortals, to wage a war of words for what it's worth
And it's worth it to me, like Time to clock
for these dark gods are the ones who control the ever dreaded "Block"
They've disrupted the creative flow, for far too long
filling so many with great doubt and self judgements so wrong
They have destroyed countless poets, before they could ever bloom
but not this One, my words will never rot away in their forgotten tomb
I want to cherish their curses, when they meet their defeat
and if I fail in this challenge . . .  I will bury my pen six feet deep
My name has been called, so now it's time to go
wish me luck, but then again, how would you ever know ?

                        {  Somewhere deep in the Caverns of  Inner Earth  }

I waited outside their ruined temple, until I was told to enter
with a tattered notebook and a generic pen, I stood in their Circle's center
surrounded by shapeless shifting colors of gray, spectral voices spoke
I could sense their overconfidence, they saw me as some kind of joke
so I made the first move, I tossed the notebook to the ground
it's impact shattered the marble floor with a thunderous sound
they were not thrilled with that, I topped it off with a smile
they 'urged' me to begin the challenge, or was it more of a trial ?
I decided not to ask, they were already on the verge of rage
they felt the weight of heavy words I'd written on every page
And don't mistake me for arrogant, my self esteem is close to nothing
but we're dealing with beings "who think being a god still means something !!"
But you know me, I had to push it just a little more
before I began,  I cleared my throat and spit on their cracked floor . . . 

           " I started off on Memory Lane, followed up by my Last Run
             something Untitled came from behind, as I watched
             R&R Embrace This World, and I was Willing To Follow 
             Spitting Mind Matter about The Good Ole Days and how
             You're Not Supposed To Be Here,  with My Better Half
             along with my Wet Nightmare, entered my House of Dreams
             where I found Rest For The Wicked, and so many
             Words Forsaken, Within A Sacred Somewhere . . . 
             talk about Badass Blues and how We Were Right
             though we were Gone For Good, somewhere in the
             Tarantula Gardens or a Circus Of Mayhem, right below
             the Chemical Gauntlet, under the sweet "Moonshine"
             though still a Wasteland Pariah, Summer came in
             leading to Memory And Foresight to a songbook of 
             Weaving Titles, just in time for a Black Water Baptism,
             a Last Dream and a Charge Of Desperation for the
             Mutiny In Heaven where a Star Maiden sat above
             Interrogation Room #2, over a Shooting Star 1 & 2
             followed by a quick Couch Nap, thoughts on Michelle
             and back under Shooting Star 3 & 4 which lead me to
             these Forever Promises . . . and this Challenge . . . " 

the gods mumbled amoungst themselves,  about something forbidden
many things in my strange presentation seem to be hidden
I told them the piece I recited, was made of poems written at other times
You can find their titles in each and everyone of those lines
they accused me of cheating or lying, I just pointed to the notebook
but they knew damn well . . .  there was no reason to look
They got the message, this is what happens when you give the Block
we mere mortals find ways around it and that's when our shit really rocks
the Challenge was reluctantly honored, the gods let me pass
and on the way thru, I told them all they can kiss my ass

But this Challenge is far from over, soon another Dark Poet will enter
I wonder who's next in line to enter the Circle's center . . .