I put pen to parchment but the ink doesn't bleed.
I put fingers to Keys but the words just don't come.
The guitar is silent, inspiration recedes.
My mind is empty, my heart can't be fathomed.
And in the ensuing silence.
The all consuming violence.
As a million voices scream as one.
And merge in deafening resonance.
That unbalanced surge of pure temperance.
Makes me come undone.
What do you say, when the words don't come?
When your brain, soul and heart are struck dumb?
Nothing inspires, thinking just tires, passion expires, and desires succumb?
When you long to express, and life's mysteries undress.
And the tension and stress leave you wounded and pressed.
When inspiration flees,
And leaves you on your knees,
What do you do?
What do you say?
How do you move?
What do you play?
Do you surrender and let silence reign?
Harbour ignorance and sail on insane?
(Or you could rock the boat and get free,
By writing on writers block like me:)
