Don’t Wake Me I’ll be Writing

I wonder why I love to scribble
profundities or arrant drivel,
revealing clips of what I know,
concealing bits that I should show?

I wonder where these rhymes will go
when they collide with what you know
and how you feel?
I wonder if the words I scrawl,
intrigue, enrage, inspire, enthrall
elucidate, attenuate or heal?

Sometimes, I’ll write and mentally ascend
into the ether where friendly
verbs and preening adjectives
contest to decorate my narratives
and generate a laxative
effect in my mind.

Other times I’ll descend
into an attitude
that sends
me deep into solitude
and creative constipation.
So, to garner inspiration
I’ll find some old quotations,
in finger-marked books
fat with succulent cliches
that will maybe take me halfway
to new literary creations.

Sometimes it’s like seraphim
are singing in my head,
other times the devil
shrieks his vileness instead.
A swirling and discordant babble:
angelic phrases, satanic words
tangle, flirt, joke and grapple
with all my passions, all my hurts.
Then, I launch myself unbridled
to both mask and unveil a universe.