March 27 by The Running Son
affirmation broke my writers block
im obliged to mention
how conventional ive been
regarding my pace and what’s expected
from my pen. the face
of my muse has materialized again
but the chase that i gave
proved her shy, and i bitten.
i may fly by the seat
that im sittin on, flippin words like wings
on the bird that ive shit upon,
verb abuse. there’s no use
mincing words. no time to lose.
the verbally obtuse may just lose
much more than their curdled attitudes.
by Jim Aldrich (:
.namaste. -• ö.tH(ink)Mÿstiç •- .namaste.