Sunday, September 14, 2014


You don't get blocked in writing... You get motivated by life and use it! Here's another from SMOKE!

Kisses, m.


The smoke twirls around the room.

My busted head hurts 

And I can't think straight.

Blocked up tight.

No inspiration.

There's no way she's coming round.

Angela I call her

But the dames' name is Gina.

Gina Reynolds.

Her old man has a car dealership.

She wants him dead.

I just want a story.

Damn writers never learn.

We get mixed up with the wrong birds and then get smoked.


Around the room.

My editor tells me this is the last time I can miss deadline.

Or I'm dead.


Dead and gone. 

Just like Angela's old man.

Except there's no chance of him coming back 

And there's only a chance I'm not marked.

A marked man with a story to tell.

Some men don't tell stories 

Especially the ones that don't breathe.

I'm breathing a lot slower than I used to.

Blocked up waiting for release.

Writing for my life. 

Planning for my demise.

Angela won't miss her old man but she might miss me.

But will she? 

I'm nobody she needs mucking up her life.

A beat writer that smokes too much and drinks too much.

Singing my blues I'm still thinking about my blocked up brain.

Another cigarette doesn't change that my hours are numbered. 

Wishing Angela were here in my arms kissing me

Singing to me

"Lover be still"

And still I am.

I swear I'm destined to scream 

While waiting impatiently

To see that sweet angel cross my doorstep 

And I know what I need to do to have her in my arms every day...

Break him.

Kill him.

End that pile of man she swore forever too


Is the easiest of things to a writer.


Deciding an alibi.

All I can do is take a drag because of this...


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