early morning I wake up thinking I feel good
later after a walk,and eating some food
I think I need to have a plan
for seizing the day today lest it wastes away

so I fire up my old computer and wait
for inspiration to strike a pleasant note
but inspiration is on vacation and gives me
a Out of Office reply be back in two weeks

do I risk another mediocre piece of crap
hopefully lurking in the generosity of fellow artists
do I power the laptop down
and move on to the next meaningless task I choose to fill the interval called life with

nothing risked nothing gained nothing written no one pained
so we risk another chance to clear our literary throats
and let our woozy art ramble on cyber space
hoping to get better at creating art since we got worse at living life

mediocrity is a dull enough curse for it to be accompanied
by blind self appraisal and melancholic alcoholic tendencies
shit stinks and crappy art stinks more yet everyday we sit
on our literary toilet hoping to produce manure that gives life to art farty flowers

than the turds of stinking yellow lines of words that disgust and fascinate
stupidity is dumb enough curse for it to be accompanied
by verbose pomposity religious creativity and an appalling affliction
which says how do I get out of this sentence