Writer's block

[meddal]

MAX respect. You write so deep i can feel it in my gut. Nice one

Creatizity (crazy + Creativity)

[rhymetodie]

She's stil sick____

I'm filled with sorrowfull rage when i lose myself in the retrospect of an age..

An age when pens corroded in my grip,

Moulded a bond with my trembling ink-stained fingers.

An age when pages would almost rip from the furious flames

Of devotedly engraved words - my scriptures -

Thts way2 illlllll..Nice one Soul

[PassionatePisces]

my my my pisces friend i'm lovin tis you got some mad skillz

[antiklokwize]

sharp ma sista

AddictiveSoul

Words pining to drench my dreary atmosphere in their boldly subtle outcries...

Now...

Now they're barred from infesting this disturbingly cold pen

And hautingly empty page.

I'm filled with sorrowfull rage when i lose myself in the retrospect of an age..

...All thoughtlessly sketched by my mind's eyes

To be decadently deciphered by my own

So they may be shown...

word use and Imagery especially is sickest!

peace

[addict]

[mathematical thoughts]

usually i dont post in here but baby girl:

Damn, i wont say ill i wont say of the edge.

but i will say keep shinin girl, mad talent... dont loose it

[theme elohim]

I wanna write..

I wanna write

I wanna write...

But...

You demons are infecting my mind with plaintive stupidity.

Words once flowed through its wonderland in melodious mystery

-Words pining to drench my dreary atmosphere in their boldly subtle outcries...

Now...

Now they're barred from infesting this disturbingly cold pen

And hautingly empty page.

ok first of all I am confused...this is supposed to be about writer's block and yet it is so rich with imagery its like you are at the peak of your creative flows. whts up with that? Ha ha ha, thats just like you adictive...just like the wonder you are...its always the deamons, isnt it? That is how I feel, word is bond....because its not like the material is not there, but it is all cramped up along with the frustrations that also struggle for their share of space in one's head...its disgusting...yeah, disgusting...

I'm filled with sorrowfull rage when i lose myself in the retrospect of an age..

An age when pens corroded in my grip,

Moulded a bond with my trembling ink-stained fingers.

An age when pages would almost rip from the furious flames

Of devotedly engraved words - my scriptures -

That immortalised my soul.

I guess that is the most painful part...reminiscing of the days of that urge to just write...you find yourself rushing home with all these thoughts u dont wanna forget...u grab the pen and a completely new idea creeps up...but its still all good...damn thats how it feels right now

Doodles, scribbles, scratches...

All thoughtlessly sketched by my mind's eyes

To be decadently deciphered by my own

So they may be shown...flossed.

But you demons are burrying my asset

An irreplaceable facet of my being.

My life-line...

My poetry.

Yes...Ohhh...those three last lines I read with such despair...yet it leaves me convicted...Poetry is my lifeline. I can think of no other facet of my being.

Emmm...I am single now...u know

I love your poetry. I am sure everyone shares the same sentiment.

...wait a minute....Rhymetodie? Where the hell u been playa?

[intel]

soooo hurtful but supremely true.