i definitely feel like my concentration is a bit
gone
these days
don’t know if i’ll get it back
don’t know if i want it back
but i suppose
this is how
human-ness goes
~~~
how many times must i
write ‘how many times must i’
until it captures this tiredness
from life
and structure
and stricture
and strife
enough that i can leave
that openng phrase
behind?
~~~
don’t know if that poem is
exactly what i was trying to say
but hey —
i said it.
i can’t concentrate today
at least not on the creative aspects of me
maybe it’s a good day
to just
rest
[if i can allow myself
simply
to be]
(do i still need to approach each day’s poetry
with the goal of 300 full words?
have i gotten over my weird breaks in my routine?
am i still recovering from skipping
or am i finally free
to do whatever
pleases me)
(and is a 300 word goal
a pleasure
or a prison-box?)
cryptic poems
are no fun
when they’re written for the pure purpose of being obtuse
but cryptic poems
that come fully fleshed
from the depths of your mind
and you had no idea where it came from
or even
what in the world it’s trying to confide
but it’s here
it’s out
in the world
those cryptic poems are okay.
but
i got nothing to write about
(not because
i’m less than full
of feels
and thoughts
and so much so much —
but ~because~
i’m so full
with those things
it’s so overwhelming,
and all the feels
thoughts
and other head-heart junk,
that it all melds together
into white noise
static
static
static)
only took five whole days
to get back into the swing of this
writing
and feeling good about my writing/
confident that i have something to say
and the ability to say it
in a unique and clever way.
i still am probably not as good as i want to be
but maybe i’m close to
how good i
think
i am
after a few days
of none morning pages
perhaps today will be a day
of one morning pages
sometimes
you just have to write
some nonsense
before the words
start to
make some sense
in your body
(in your brain)
when
will i get my
writing
back?
my churning out poem
after poem
of things
even i think
are gold?
my extended long poems
studying a single subject
until i learn
the poem wasn’t even about that
to begin with —
it was about some emotion
i’ve been feeling
but not identifying
for a while yet?
my ease
of writing poetry
every morning
without fail
without procrastination
without this trudge
through molasses
in my mind?
when?
when?
when?
going through
a ‘gak’ phase
a ‘gulp’
a ‘meh’
a ‘throw up a little in my mouth
at my own words and thoughts and talents’
time
a momentary loss
of perceived
good-at-writing
(at least from my own perspective)
and i need
to remind
myself
it happens,
it happens;
it’s temporary,
it’s temporary.
(and for now
maybe
indulge in some
bad
writing)
kipventures 