Closet Writer

Its been awhile,
since I’ve been transparent,
secreting pocketed poems away,
from awareness,
been disclosure errant.
Its been awhile since
I’ve shared this,
coyly casting cadence
in silent simile syllabics,
secreting semantics,
onto paper tablets,
bleeding ink,
holding words captive,
hiding what I think,
in drawyers of scraps.
Restrained rhyme slaves,
resisting the recital
see I’m an addict,
cutting phrases up on apps
because in my madness
I’m devoid of tactics,
Its been awhile since I’ve
been heard
Its not that I’ve lost stock in verbs,
Or am at a loss for words,
(Just that there are no solutions in my blurbs)
just cause
without affect,
Nothing left to effect
that hasn’t already
been said and done,
Nothing left to project,
How many love poems
Can I spew?
You can’t make another
Love you,
By smuggling love in
by the kilo.
When hate is trading heavy,
and morality is low,
at times the words just won’t come,
and I strain on a fact.
Thought constipation.
A poetry jam,
seeking verification,
or the words come too fast,
and I stutter,
provoking spam,
as I mutter,
my thoughts in arrears.
Thought diarrhea,
that’s been backed up for years.
Its been awhile
since I’ve released this,
poetry seeking a profile,
is my thesis.

victori bass 9 Aug 2020

6 thoughts on “Closet Writer

  1. Was wondering. It’s ok. Your eloquent words and thoughts will sprout like a freshly planted garden of delectable herbs. Water your thoughts.

  2. I knew you’d break through cousin. Find the remedy for what ails, Syrup of Black Draught maybe? Or whatever to put some Pep in your Bismol. I love you dearly you absolutely make my day.💖💖

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