Silly Me.

Silly Me!!

Silly me

I was always the

one labeled as a

type of old

school style writer

banging out thoughts

on a stylish Underwood

typewriter.

Just another

glorified dreamer

sitting here

years later

as a self-taught

word wizard

still a bit in awe

in front of my

giant, magic window

that opens my thoughts

to the whole world.

It is all so much easier

now then it used to be.

No stamps and manuscripts

mailed out to editors and

weeks of waiting for replies.

No pink slips to use as

kindling for my wood stove

Writer's cramp has become

just a thing of the past,

With no pain in the grasp.

Now it's a two-fingered

dance at a pretty quick

speed with built-in

spell check and

word counts.

Then it's just a

quick download

to the masses who

are hopefully all ready

to peruse something new

But far too often

it is not from

silly me, daily attempting

to leave my mark

in the condensations

of my literary creations

with hopes that at least

one article will catch some

of the millions of eyes

that monitor the screens.

and my poetic screams

I am just a bachelor

of the arts

I work best alone

In the wee hours

and any thoughts of

being married

to the arts

boggles my mind.

It would be too

intense of a relationship

requiring incredible

and constant creative

input and output
~
Plus so much more

to keep my cherished

and most needy muse

happy with fingerpainted

smiles freshly applied

In the ways she desires

with my softest strokes

brushed into

all those tiny crevices

of her ravenous mind

that is ever thirsty

for the colors of love.

For you see all male

writers have a female muse

who they woo and are

wooed by. And all female

writers have a male muse
~
I would end up

being wedded

to an endless list

of what she considers

things that need done.

My love of writing would

be reduced to chores

Leaving me stuck

in an eternal June

under her honey moon

that would hang

Like a guillotine over

My sleep deprived

black velvet

sheets of night.

One would need a

full palette of

clever thoughts

instantly ready to

release to properly please

the goddess of aarts

who has more than

enough suitors

Begging for her attention

which is why I choose

to remain engaged

to her sweetness

In any thing

but long term

And when she is absent

I am destined to be

a bumbling but patient

presto-diction-narian

trying very hard to

make words appear

that just might move

a troubled soul to peace

or cause downcurved

lips to rise

into a lot of "silly you's."
~
I seek only to

instill a ray of hope

a seed of thought

a leap of faith

the birth pangs of an idea

perhaps turning

someone else's

trickle of inspiration

into a raging river of ink

flowing over what's too plain

and making bolder statements
~
silly me

the minutes pass and

only this pulp emerges

from the waves of my brain

struggling to survive

in the rough currents and

slowly slipping away
~
I reach out with my fingers

seeking the keys

to pull it free

and bring it to life

pounding a rhythm

into its lifeless form

breathing into it the

essence of what

can make it move

through living, vibrant

paragraphs like a

seductive lover through

one's libido

You see, the shores

at the edge of my mind

are littered with

the debris of so many

words lost

and the bodies of work

I left scattered like

empty shells

all succumbed into

fragments of thoughts

from rhe relentless

pounding of my brainwaves

and therein also lies

everything I would have

liked to have written

but my mind drifted.

elsewhere leaving me

huge piles of drift would

suitable only to be burned

like editors pink slips

~
But soon enough I will

find hope winning out

with a chance discovery

of a topic or phrase

That I can add flavor to

Making it less drab

A rare piece

That gleams in the sun

of my critical glare

Instilling a new rhythm

until it has a beat

and It starts to

move on it's own

as if it is writing itself.

then it will urge me

to publish it

and add it to my collection

that I have gathered

for years simply by

combing through all

of the parts of speech

that the tides of my life

have or will yet uncover.~

And so this

grateful wizard

will turn away from my

window to the world

and sigh as i

place one more

tiny pearl of wisdom

gleaned and cleaned

amidst the many

stacks of former

efforts shelved.