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Fear, Shame, Guilt Because I’m Having Difficulty Being Creative October 28, 2009

Posted by frostwolftfirerose in Personal Journey.
Tags: , , , , , , ,

Oh, yea, verily it comes upon me to do lots and lots of cleansing.

It’s hard to know when I can venture forth and say what’s on my mind sometimes.  I am in a writer’s block or something.  These times of aesthetic drought get me way way waaaaaaaaaaaaaaayyyy downnnnnnnnnnnn.  So, I wrote this poem about it:

This Poem Has a Nutritional Value of Zero

This poem will be empty.  Why?
Well, I have only stale breadcrumb
ideas to offer.  You know that dusty
can of okra in the corner of the corner
shop?  You know, the one that gets
passed over?  Even a can of spinach
or beets 2 years old is preferred. Like
this collection of lines in octet stanzas.

Why is it this poem holds no
nutritional value, a hearer or reader
might ask.  Well, sigh.  If only
I could say.  I’ve no idea why Mojave
aridity should cause aesthetic
drought, other than that I stare
eight hours a day at an electric
enslavement device and churn bits

of value-free information, in cubicle
hell supplanting natural, fearsome beauty
outside the cityscape, suburb surrounds.
Earlier, I wrote angry manifestoes
Enragements against the Matrix workings
their insidious wormy ways inside us.
Yet trademarked quote-unquote life
exacts its anti-Mozart, Shakespeare-phobic toll.

Well.  It could be worse.  This could
have been a poem where I express
longing after Cerridwen’s lethal embrace.
a divine version of Dementor’s Kiss.
I could be praying for a lobotomy.
(Heh. Dispelled that death-death-death wraith
just last week. Shoo!)  Too bad, this.
Emptiness as far as the heart can feel.

Love me!  Feel my pain!


So I shared that with my partner.  He got mad at me.  “I don’t know what to do with that,” he said notably louder than our conversation previous.  So I feel ashamed.  I feel guilty.  I feel unloved.  I feel hurt.  I feel afraid.  And that all leads to despair, resentment, rage, loneliness, alienation, and all those lovely things that need for cleansing.

It’s raining out.  What I really want is to go outside.  I’m not my own mistress where my time is concerned.  Suck it up, right?  Fantasize about someone coming around and slitting my throat while I sit here typing some goddamned brief.

Cross-posted on LiveJournal.



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