deepundergroundpoetry.com
Dry Streak
Note: This is a poem I wrote stream of consciousness. I haven't really shared it with anybody till now cuz I didn't see the poetic value till now.
Fuck,
this dry streak that I have been on
Is eating at me like a dog on a dry piece of meat
I can’t think
I can’t do much of anything
And I hate it
I need my fix of poems and stories
Or else I think I am going to crack
Like an egg
I'll sizzle
This dry streak is a bitch
It’s a whore
Trying to kill me little by little
Where can a man go when he has
Nothing to write about
Nothing to complain about
That he hasn’t already written about
At this moment I am listening to Tom Waits
And I just read Charles Bukowski
hoping to loosen the wood panels
that block the thoughts that go from
my mind to my fingers
I am in awe that I have gone this far in this poem
Maybe, somehow this is loosening the boards as well
I think I am following what was said in Finding Forrester
“Just write don’t think”
This dry streak is starting to piss me the fuck off
I am sick of not being able to write
Sick of having no thoughts
Mold on the piece of paper or on the computer screen
I think it has been over 2 weeks since I have actually written a poem
And that ain’t good considering that poetry is in my blood
The trouble is I have thought of a good line to use
“One day closer to death
and one day further from birth”
But I have no fucking idea how to fill in the other blanks
I don’t need alcohol or drugs to help me with the inspiration
However I do wish something would just click in my head
Like a light bulb
The greatest of great writers have said if you just write
You are able to loosen your fingers and your mind
And write more and more
On the bright side I am not writing a poem about being lonely
Will somebody please give me a sign that this dry streak is over
That I can write poem after poem again
Instead of sitting in a thought drought
I am continuing to write this poem
However, its mostly bullshit
That has been backed up in my sewer system
I have no idea how this poem will end or
Weather this is actually considered a “poem”
Or just some random rambling that I write just for
Clarity
Finally after this long ramble I am done
And able to write something
A thought
Just
Came
To
My
Head
Fuck,
this dry streak that I have been on
Is eating at me like a dog on a dry piece of meat
I can’t think
I can’t do much of anything
And I hate it
I need my fix of poems and stories
Or else I think I am going to crack
Like an egg
I'll sizzle
This dry streak is a bitch
It’s a whore
Trying to kill me little by little
Where can a man go when he has
Nothing to write about
Nothing to complain about
That he hasn’t already written about
At this moment I am listening to Tom Waits
And I just read Charles Bukowski
hoping to loosen the wood panels
that block the thoughts that go from
my mind to my fingers
I am in awe that I have gone this far in this poem
Maybe, somehow this is loosening the boards as well
I think I am following what was said in Finding Forrester
“Just write don’t think”
This dry streak is starting to piss me the fuck off
I am sick of not being able to write
Sick of having no thoughts
Mold on the piece of paper or on the computer screen
I think it has been over 2 weeks since I have actually written a poem
And that ain’t good considering that poetry is in my blood
The trouble is I have thought of a good line to use
“One day closer to death
and one day further from birth”
But I have no fucking idea how to fill in the other blanks
I don’t need alcohol or drugs to help me with the inspiration
However I do wish something would just click in my head
Like a light bulb
The greatest of great writers have said if you just write
You are able to loosen your fingers and your mind
And write more and more
On the bright side I am not writing a poem about being lonely
Will somebody please give me a sign that this dry streak is over
That I can write poem after poem again
Instead of sitting in a thought drought
I am continuing to write this poem
However, its mostly bullshit
That has been backed up in my sewer system
I have no idea how this poem will end or
Weather this is actually considered a “poem”
Or just some random rambling that I write just for
Clarity
Finally after this long ramble I am done
And able to write something
A thought
Just
Came
To
My
Head
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