Tag Archives: uninspired

wax & ink

ideas burn

and melt

like a midnight


this burnout

is more

than my wick

can handle.

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Talk candy in my ear, come on, come on
I want your toxic, talk sick baby
I know those gospel lips can change me
Look to the right of my okay?
We got exhibit “A″, she, she ain’t okay today…


Coronary seductions are tart, let’s play a fun fucking game

As you mess up the combinations, I’ll hook up on my brain

Stalactites of sinner spit and cold sick stains on the carpet

Tortured strains of dinner hits, but don’t blame the peeved pet

Incendiary souls sparking and dancing on a shower of alcohol

Gaslight and butane wars, that’s all it’ll mandate for you to fall

Avuncular terrorisation, but you’re getting a little too touchy

That’s enough from the queen of hearts and the king of babies

I understand this is against a chilling breeze, a carnival ride wrought for two

Only I get motion sickness too easily to please, and I’m already sick of you

Nasty, I know, just enough to make candid heavens whip their backs and cry

Still, if this story didn’t have a laughable tragic ending, then I wouldn’t even try.


The last contendent
Bad for us, bad for you
This capillary root could root up
All the little puzzle pieces
Of what you’ve been through…

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Idle Imagination

No light at the end to think

Of this infinite tunnel further

A dribbling pen with dry ink

A piece of paper underwater


A cage surrounds my mind

Nowhere to stretch my legs

Metal bars restrain behind

No place for creative to extend


A simmered cold cup of coffee

Crumpled papers been tossed

Frustration builds inside thee

Scribbled thoughts been crossed


I reciprocate and designate

But puzzle pieces don’t fit the slate

I try to accelerate and elevate

But end up with a brick wall state


Bland colours mixing stark greys

Fantasy worlds that actively decay

Black horrors and murky dark days

No stars left now for my soul to say


And idle mind hanging, a stalling stale thought

Pondering flowers that will never fully blossom

Quite ironic, that my halted ideas stuck in a rut

Hurts my head more than an active imagination.

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Wasting more time with Haikus

(So. Uninspired.)


Spiraling system

Clockwork imagination

Sometimes it freezes.


Feel the need to write

Brain does not cooperate

Laughing at my fight.


I’m a sinful man

The darkness is my mistress

Do I deserve sun?


Mopping out the gore

Along the white padded walls

This is horrorcore.


She bade them goodbye

As She destroyed the planet

Mother Earth is done.


Burst into colours

The falling leaves of autumn

Paint the dull weather.


Bound in chains, restart

My heart refuses to do

Now we’re worlds apart.


He broke his promise

Like scintillating mirrors

The shards wounded her.


The clock yelled at him

“Your deadline is nearly up”

As he went flatline.


She folded her faith

And tucked it in her pocket

Until she lost it.


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It hurts;

Not knowing what to say

And being at a loss for words

Leaving your mouth hanging open

At a time when you needed your voice the most

All your thoughts slowly slipping away from you

Like fine sand sifting away from your fingers

Years seemingly run away, it’s true

In your tongue, the unspoken lingers

While you stand there, mouthing undecipherable words

Until your mind’s rendered completely empty

And you’re left there standing alone, feeling heavy.

It hurts;

Not knowing how to say something

And lacking the right words to use

Your best ideas dissipating into thin air, lost

Just when you needed them the most

The words running away from the back of your brain

Diving off at the very tip of your tongue

And your hands fail to move and instead shake badly in pain

Writing nonexistent words

Until your mind overflows with too many thoughts, unkind

And crumbles your peace of mind.

Yes, really;

It hurts so much

It’s the worst kind of pain to us

A pain like no one can ever imagine

Like the taste of the stars fading away from your lips

Like the flame of a candle, flickering, dying bit by bit

Like the darkness consuming you from where you stand

Like the celestial universe being ripped away from your hands

It just feels that terrible, that scary, that bad

And I don’t at all jest

Like emptiness, a hollow feeling in your body and mind

It really hurts to be an uninspired poet.

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