Scribble, Scribble, Scribble

By
Sometimes it is just so hard.
You just want to write, write, write.
You pick up a pen.
You pick up a paper;
all ready to scribble something down,
but the words don’t seem to come out of the pen.
What should I write about?
There’s nothing exciting going on.
All that is happening
is just boring old Ernie chasing his son
with a gun.
What could be so exciting about Jimmy Porter,
running across the street butt-naked.
There’s nothing dramatic going on!
I couldn’t possibly write about that lady,
that lady to my right…
ready to cut her husband’s genitals off.
I wonder if I’m ever
going to write something down.





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