A Poetic Rant About Love & Creativity

A Poetic Rant About Love & Creativity

A Poem by MachinaWriter
"

It's a rant about love and creativity...and it rhymes...sometimes.

"
So, I've had a bit of writer's block
I know, such a shock
you see, I've come to realize 
that at least for me, I seem to be
only able to create, if I'm full of hate
or love, depression, indigestion, 
or a combination of the above
because the truth is,
I wear cynicism like a glove
tailor made.
You've heard me talk about my mother
and ex-girlfriends
let's be real...we'll call them ex-sins
or maybe mistakes
because let's make no mistake
the only debate I ever lose...
is one with a woman.
And of course, the one I have with myself
when I look at my emotional health
and my startlingly skim monetary wealth
because she spent all my money
and I keep trying to convince,
without a cringe or a wince,
that I can still call you honey...and not a b***h
which, if I'm gonna be honest
seem to be the type of woman I most attract
I'm like an all-star athlete, 
with wings on my feet, running around a circular track
never looking back, and never seeing that I'm just going around
and around and around and around
never gaining ground
because even when you're in first place with a woman
you're still trying to keep up.
But, let's back up for just a second
and go back to the beginning
what have I talked about?
sinning, being with women, never winning
oh yeah, I remember...
writer's block
writer's block, writer's block...
Do you know how woman are always saying
how men are always playing
and they only think with their c**k?
Sorry, I went back to that again
but now I'm on a soap box.
Let me explain.
I'm divorced.
Now of course, before the divorce
there were shouts that left me hoarse
wounds that left me coarse
but nobody ever forced me to fall head over heels.
But no one told me that love sucks and this is how it feels
or that women would be my greatest flaw.
Now, don't get me wrong,
I don't hate women at all.
My problem is that I love them
and that I care too much.
That the second I feel loved, I get in a rush
give me a wink, or kiss
and it'll be hard to miss how much I blush.
Now, some of you are gonna say
"Chance, you were played
that wasn't real love,"
Tell that to the breakfast in bed
the bouquets, the movies,
dates, plays, and the morning head
No, the love was real
it was just unrequited
I was ready for this, 
she just wasn't with it.
Because I love the world.
I love the haters, the players,
and every single lying girl
who has left me waiting
hating who I am, what I look like
how I dress
I love every person I've tried to impress
and who didn't give me another look.
I love the s**t-talkers, the street-walkers,
the internet stalkers, 
and even the fans of those Twilight books.
I love the crooks, and the thieves
the cheats, and the girl who left me
to wake up alone on the sheets.
Okay, I'll stop, I'm not here to preach.
I'm here to talk about writing.
Trying to find inspiration, 
even when inspiration's hiding.
I'm trying my best to get off my chest
what's behind my writing process
okay...it goes something like this
I sit down alone, at home
smoke a cigarette, maybe something greener
I stare at my paper, until I'm giving it the middle finger
waiting for the bringer of inspiration
here and there out of desperation
I'll listen to some music
hoping that through it
I'll find some sort of clarity,
but it doesn't matter how hard I beg
the muse doesn't run a charity.
So, I give up and I go to a bar
hopefully one where I don't have to travel far
because I'm an artist, I'm broke, 
and I don't have a car.
But here's the problem with bars
there are women there,
smiling like vicious predators in their chairs.
And inevitably when I walk in
it's like every time, I can feel the heads spin
as every last evil, single (or maybe not) girl
does a little twirl, and finds their prey.
It's like there's some sort of neon sign
floating up, somewhere behind,
with bulbs and lights and flashing little fireworks
proclaiming to the world in bright red just above my head
SUCKER!
And they pucker up their lips, they sway their hips,
and they listen to me talk about my passion,
about my love for life, and poetry, and art
for music both mainstream and off the charts
and they smile.
God, am I weak for a good smile.
And for a while, it seems like it's real.
Until I discover, this beautiful lover
was here to lie and cheat and steal.
Sorry...how did I get back on this spiel?
For real, it's like the only time I can write
is when I'm in love, or when I'm heartbroken
that the only time I have anything worth being spoken
is when I feel like I'd rather be crying.
Because any other time, if I don't feel like I'm dying
there's hardly any point in trying.
No, that's a lie.
The truth is, I think I have a problem
I only dedicate myself to sinking ships.
I only would have rode the Titanic
if I'd known it was going down.
Because there's a part of me that thinks
only if my life sinks, 
and if I'm struggling not to drown
will I ever have anything worth saying.
But it's more than that.
I've been hurt and left shattered.
And I walk around like it doesn't matter
and I don't care.
So sometimes, when I go the bar
and I pick a chair
I'll see the perfect girl, maybe reading a book,
and I'll look, and I'll stare...
but I'll never say what I want to say.
We may even become friends, and I may see her every day
and every one of those days I'll fall in love more.
I'll watch as she goes from taken, to single, to not single anymore,
and I'll never make an attempt.
I know, it probably doesn't make sense.
And the truth is...
...I'm still the same.
Yes, this wasn't some sort of hypothetical game
I go through this even today, here and now.
and somehow, I still feel like it'll never change.
So, I'll keep going through doomed relationships
making a port from my own doomed station of ships
destined to sink beneath the sea,
while I'm shoveling water,
so that when and if I make it to shore
I'll have more and more to write about.
Because I'm replacing the love I want with writing.
And she's falling in love with someone else,
while inside I'm still desperately fighting
with my low self-esteem. 
So for now, girls like her
will stay on the page, and in my dreams. 
Back to what it's like, trying to write.
I said earlier, that I love the world.
That I love all the negative people
who have made me the way I am.
Because the truth is...love never fades.
It never truly, 100% goes away,
it just gets hidden beneath the shade
of all the built up hate.
And the truth is...they've added to my art.
And my hope is, 
that through the broken pieces of my heart 
one day I'll be able to arrange the pieces
in just the perfect order
in the form of a poem or story.
Just the one needed for that perfect girl
to finally see this broken boy.

© 2015 MachinaWriter


Author's Note

MachinaWriter
This is really meant for spoken word, but I shared it anyways, because I've been lacking new content for a minute. Let me know your thoughts. Or don't. Your choice XD lol

My Review

Would you like to review this Poem?
Login | Register




Reviews

Really love this....a break up or new love usually shakes my writer's block :p

Posted 7 Years Ago


I wonder if there is a certain way that a woman should interpret this. Either way, I'm happy. From where you stand, I'm your emotional, love, hate, cynical, feel-it-all equal. I ask myself the same questions, bide myself the same shame. I am on your playing field and neither of us know what sport we're supposed to participate in. Assuming that that made any sense to you - This is really good. This is good, and you remind me of myself, when I'm mad that I can't just put the words down how, where, when I want them down. That all of these words swirl and twirl and dance inside my head but outside, seem useless, because they don't feel the same anymore. They don't work. And sometimes, when words don't work, people think you can't write, you can't rhyme, that makes no sense, what is she even talking about? Anyways.
"I wear cynicism like a glove
tailor made."
You've made my day better.
And I will be reading more of your work.

Posted 8 Years Ago


MachinaWriter

8 Years Ago

Sorry for the really late response. Life has been hectic (when is it not?) so I haven't been on here.. read more
Loved it man!

Your voice is really missed on his site, welcome back!

I'm still a fan.

BTW: I've been having my own writer's block issues, so your not alone man, keep them coming!

Posted 9 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.


Share This
Email
Facebook
Twitter
Request Read Request
Add to Library My Library
Subscribe Subscribe


Stats

633 Views
3 Reviews
Rating
Added on February 12, 2015
Last Updated on February 12, 2015

Author

MachinaWriter
MachinaWriter

Springfield, IL



About
My original passion has always been in writing stories. Most of them were fantasy stories, because I always wanted to escape. That's what it was. An escape from the troubles of life. Joining this site.. more..

Writing