No inspiration here

The weather is just not suited to serious poetry. So I made it a laugh, I even swore-a really bad word.

Perhaps there’s just nothing to say
In the heat and the darkness
The words drift away

There’s nothing of note
Going on in my head
No words that I wrote

Springing on to the page
My thoughts have all left
They’ve just walked away

Like words in rebellion
They’ve abandoned me here
Just up and gone,
they’ve all disappeared

What is a poet
Who can’t write a verse
Who can’t find a rhyme
Does it get any worse?

Ouch that was bad
Please rhyme it with something
Other than-

Did you see how the rhythm went all awry
How the timing packed up,
And just said good- I

Can’t write that
What was I thinking?
Do I have a brain?
Fuck its hot here,
I wish it would rain.

I don’t write like you write…

When I wrote my words down
I used to wonder what you’d say
Somewhere deep inside of me
I’m not very brave

If words are my passion
And poetry my voice
I have waited years and years
Without making any noise

I tried to make it happen
I wanted it to work
The words just went on and on
But none of it was verse

My work is full of half rhymes
That never quite add up
Of gaps and stunted rhythm
That never quite stand out

It has taken me a lifetime
To realise the truth
No allegory or metaphor
I don’t write like you

No flowing words of prose
No humble love of trees
My soul is not on fire
I no longer write to please

I finally found my voice
What it is I want to say
I won’t write like you write
I have turned and walked away.