Well, I’ve come to the conclusion that I need to start writing again. Not anything in particular, just daily things to knock the dust off the cogs. I am a fucking writer, after all. I guess it’s time to write. Here is a little poem I just spit out to express my feelings toward a thirteen year, rollercoaster writing career that’s been disappointing at best. Still, it’s far from over…
Rusty by C. Derick Miller
The pipes are clogged
The wheels are stuck
No reason why
I’d give a fuck
To start again
Stare down defeat
It’s not been fun
It’s not been neat
This writer’s life
Of cat and mouse
I spit the words
Throughout the house
And echoed rhyme
On deaf ears fall
I took the chance
And missed the call
But wait, the call?
It never came
Oh, woe is me
A crying shame
This wordsmith fate
Not like before
The cliquish few
The hidden door
I won’t hold back
To spare your soul
This generation’s
Stripper pole
So take your turn
Just mind your grip
This slippery game
Of just the tip
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C. Derick Miller 