Silences and Words - A Poem of Creativity and the Streets.

You fight it.
Each day forces you harder
to seek a reason to plug on
as the world dumps more
problems on you.

Wrestling the ideas,
you torture characters, and reality,
with your twisted dreams or brilliant ideas,
even when the words jam,
like icy rivers.

Long silences occur,
times when ideas must percolate
from tiny embers into a rich brew
that others will partake of
with some pleasure.

Through it all,
one must damned well survive.
Scratching out some meager existance in gutters,
where Society kicked you to
for past failures.

This is it.
My life in a nutshell.
Grinding on as others succeed,
wishing things would turn for me soon,
but ready to sit patiently
waiting for Luck.

Which really sucks.
Luck is always fashionably late,
a moocher who sucks your soul completely dry
with her evil sister, Hope's,
finicky mood swings.

Not all things
that fly from my brain
are fit for sale or posting nowadays.
Most are just fetid garbage,
or ungerminated kernels.

So, I wait.
Not for the fickle Ladies,
but the right Muse to drop down,
tickling my creative centers wickedly
towards better stories.

Unfortunately,
Muses are busy,
with fully booked day planners,
and not really...
...reliable.
Best they arrive
before I fade...
to nothngness.
1May2014 - Dyfedd Rex