Manifestation of métier write

finds yours truly sitting today

December 24^th at 2:41 P.M. with slight

hunched over mien as edge of night
quite some hours away when height

of Santa Claus appearance bright
rosy cheeks glow insync with

Rudolph the reindeer red nose.

 

As an indie alt rock'n

tribe beck ha dishabille poet,

I view the challenge of writing analogous

to betting an heir or heiress

which includes gestation of an, emotion,

idea, sentiment,...unbeknownst

if outcome birthed to be fabulous

then however the whimsical notion spins

within thine cerebral centrifuge,

the imagination pregnant with fetus

of a fledgling concept feeling

with byte size sea legs,

 

not quite ready for

prime time and beak comb devious
though, as swollen

womb dar full expansive

lettered girth manifests and coalesces

into miniature Confucius

versatile baby (unless unexpected contusions

render exertion aborted effort, the proud

pro-creator bounteous
which success inspires this scrivener

to tackle another and fleeting thought

and sire by product with audacity.

 

Oft times the sacred seconds silenced
by stillness louder than "Big Ben"
ear splitting only to me - squirreled away
in this makeshift basement den

the dead quiet, a riot

with audio logical sonic boom decibel -
asper a water nymph sprung from a fen

or when a sneaky fiery fox

slips into the crowded house,
where the yolk cull doth roost

long fostering mass squawking
of manifold egg on eyes zing hen.

 

The end result metamorphoses into
a totally tubular unforeseen jumble

analogous to uglies that bump

of gibberish senseless wordy clump

aspiring to convey some essence of logic,

though best to take furlough than persist

to interpret dump

of discordantly strung English bits,

which intractable insistence

might spell f-o-r-c-e-d g-r-u-m-p

as the mood one may find them-self,

 

unless he/she can call

the literary mod squad

to resolve harrumph
and with any lucky trump

petting, the once amorphous lump

pen pro lit tarry hit might undergo

an amazing transformation -

a cherished poem plump

with juicy fruit

weighing down the boughs

as if limbs ready to slump.