grayness

And now for something completely different...

Blogger's block is writer's block, except when it is worse-
It knows no bounds to emptiness in flat prose or free verse.
You sit and think, and much you stink, so sit and think some more
You contemplate your shopping lists, but hesitate to bore.

You'd plagiarize, but damn your eyes, there's nothing that seems right-
You're cursed with foul ennui by morning, noon, and night.
You'd stoop to steal, or cut a deal- you'd pay for some new thought!
You read old poems in long lost tomes not finding what you sought.

Then you'd rest- do be my guest- but instead you look for help!
Then listen long to tepid tales from the least-lived idle whelp.
Then know you're stuck, and out of luck, there's nothing doing there,
Then walk outside with wounded pride in search of some fresh air.

Now as then, you can't give in- some something beckons on-
Now your reach exceeds your grasp- in reaching it is gone.
Now bang your head, and wish you're dead, for all the good it does-
Now search your mind, and all you'll find is static, hum, and buzz.

Even now then, in the end, you'll find no certain cure.
Even finding an idea that's new, pristine and pure-
Even writing, and not finished, you'll still be sad and vexed...
For the question, my dear readers, always, is "What are you writing next?"