deepundergroundpoetry.com
Squeezed Out Eventually (Another Take)
A poem's sometimes like a bunged-up gut
when constipation's gripped it like a vice.
The situation's thick and grim, not nice,
the door of our creative arsehole shut,
the poem jammed inside our mental butt.
We try the ways we know to make it move:
a walk – the writer’s prunes – does not improve
our plight, the poem doesn't budge a bit
and even if it did it would be shit.
We're not tonight in that poetic groove.
📝🙃📝
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