The Punk Poets Fear Of The Writers Block

It’s like hitting my head against a brick wall,
or smashing my fist against a glass door.

It’s like riding a bike but forgetting to pedal
It's running a marathon and not getting a medal.
It’s like forgetting your name and remembering not to smile,
it’s like talking in riddles and bringing up bile,
it’s like picking up the phone and forgetting to dial,
it’s like walking lost in the wood just for a while.
It’s like wearing glasses but unable to see, it’s like driving car into a tree.
It’s like wearing shoes but not matching socks, that’s the beauty as the writing stops.

It tantalizes and traumatizes,
you have an idea and you simply can’t use it

Writing on empty paper, staring at a blank screen, kicking the bucket as you try to scream

Half written poems in a bin at my feet, next I will forget to bloody eat.

It’s like going to work but never arriving,
it’s like going to school but never skiving.
It’s like going to the loo and never wiping, It's
like chewing food but never biting.

Use this poem to make your escape don’t get caught in glue or red sticky tape.

Fight this block, the daily battle
before your brain starts to rattle.

Take your idea and let it fly
give it a go or at least try

The writer’s block I think we take for granted,
its view askewed and slightly slanted.

Like losing something so dear, this is what I fear, like a key without a lock, the punk poet’s fear of the writer’s block.