Brain tied, caught in a smoke of fog
With no directional heads, like stage fright
Inspiration lost to the freak storm
It blows me off course, at sea
And the stars have lost their way
Throwing tantrum, like my GPS on freeze
While Gypsies settle, and still demand to be called nomads
Sometimes my mind just goes blank, like a blank sheet
And wires plugged entangled are without power
Of electric energy, they seat lifeless
Sometimes I am left with the writers block
Bewildered, while ghosts lose their will to fright
On strike, on account of not being paid
In the house of haunt, for work done
Sometimes I am bed tied, laziness, coziness, couch potato
Gather joy in indulgence, while still sat with frustration
Of the pondering mind, what can be done, what should be done
This time the parrot is without words,
Silence is bless, finally serenity
Yet it seems all is not right, with tinkering minds
And rain in rain forest becomes a rarity in the amazon
Protesting on global warming, being taken for granted
On too many scrambled papers thrown into the bin by conscience writers
Some times, I am with the writers block
And the forest will hand me no more papers, on rationing
To pen down my thoughts, set in abstract, on writers block
Still I sweat to deliver your daily dosage of
Enlightenment, poetry, demand a voice
And my voice is to be the one heard, its a call
So sometimes I am left with the frustration of writers block
While thoughts runs rampage in my head
Sometime it all just pours out, with no hold back
Just when I think
I am having a writers block
What is that, a writers block?
