Writer's Block

A. K. A. Filipino American Dream Series I: Unscripted © 2013

Written by Glen Yumang Manese 

A. k. a. (F. A. D.) Filipino American Dream

 

Writer’s Block © 2013

As of now, this all makes sense in writer’s block.                            

Lost is locked with anarchy without a key to unlock.                       

One magazine is ready, to chamber one bullet in the Glock.     

Fifteen shots, only one are needed to put you in the public eye.     

I’m not going to tell some factious lie.                                                   

A barren terrain exists in a global sphere behind solid rebar.

Wonder what a moonless sky looks like anymore with stars.       

Far as I can recall, mind was a blackout.                                 

Weapon in hand all set to discharge.                                         

Let my guard down.                                                     

But I can’t forget sound of a depth charge.             

Memory recalls third time’s a charm.           

Disarm or do harm and just unload.                           

Prancing and pacing on a street with no name.                       

Same dead end road to meet someone I do not know.      

Understand my fear, though.                                                        

Shadow casts over me like a one way street sign.            

Sun is coming down.                                                         

A dark night starts to unwind.                                                

I can hear a rumble, no time to tremble.                    

Smell of gas fumes consumes me to combustible.

He’s carrying a gun just like’s mine called death.         

As god is my witness:                                          

To serve and protect reads his badge.              

But this can’t be poetic justice.                                     

I look straight at him with a vengeance of hate.

Face to face this comes down with destiny of Grim Reaper’s fate. 

Thanatos takes me to Acheron.

Make a deal with Charon.                                   

Offer his pledge, to keep me at river’s edge.              

Throw me with tyrants, until my time is warrant.         

No place to be, this close to Hades; now I can see.

Life is for the taking.                                                               

Death is following.                                             

Throw me a key, to unlock.                   

A sentence called writer’s block.        

One has conviction.                                     

One has an impression.                                         

One has troubles in life.                                    

In this place called writer’s block.

I’m not going down with a drop of gall.                   

Take a tranquilizer route to befall.

Pretentious people will confuse you.                                              

Ignore you, insult you and piss on you.                                      

Plain downgrade you and insist on you!                           

Prevaricators just don’t give a dam about you!                        

Seclude yourself you exclude yourself.               

Humble yourself you begin to live yourself.                                   

Begin to relive yourself.                                                                   

I hear voices through these impenetrable walls.                  

Sound the gongs to these haunting calls.                          

Sound of agony amuses me to astound me.                    

Formulate me, to feel anger converts me.                               

You develop into anger a wretched sickness.       

A purgatory stored nothingness.                                                    

Sit limbo worthless in the moment.                                            

Solitary confinement locked in a basement.             

No light tries to fight blackness.                                          

This will not diminish, I had three wishes.                        

Rage would go away in a page.                               

Mind has nothing to untwine.                           

I wish I had bottle of Moët rid my mind.                              

Remind me of a time, before this moody day.   

Dismay nothing more precious is a day.        

Way to convey my talent.                                                               

Voice to release within this hostile imprisonment.       

At a complete loss is in all-encompassing penitentiary.        

A condemn intellect to reformatory.                                       

A psych ward is an ill-minded infirmary.                    

An isolated outcast defeated, strength is weakening.   

Learn to adapt with the four seasons changing.             

Here egotism is indivisible, I wish I was invisible.

Life is for the taking.                                                                         

Death is following.                                     

Throw me a key, to unlock.                          

A sentence called writer’s block.                                     

One has conviction.                                           

One has an impression.                                       

One has troubles in life.                                                  

In this place called writer’s block.

Hypnos awakes me, fealty to be set free.                                        

Only you possess a key.                                                                     

Look through the Eye of Providence.                           

Do you perceive everything all at once?                         

Do you not blink to cleanse away indulgence?                

Only to shed a tear takes one second.                    

Changes are aspect of knowledge to question. 

Lost no longer paces, but knows how.                             

A directional approach believes now.                                              

Blind measure was desolate unforgiving.                            

Foreseeing surpass all that is truth.                 

Rooted are you on this fertile ground.                       

Profound to torture, build and nurture.                              

Feature at times, I’d convene to converse with Hypnos.

Finally, tells me, he’s twin brother of death, Thanatos.                 

Talk about nonsense called life.                                    

Liberty and is the pursuit of happiness.                                   

Observe to see my resurgence progress.                                       

Days are numbered now, back then life was guileless.       

Abstract are the times now.                                          

Back when rhyme had a pecuniary purpose.                      

Algorithms use to amaze a mind like mine with nothing to lose.

Lyrical verse is a curse.                                                                

Trust with suppressed shoes.                                                    

Behind closed doors was safe house for a while from chaos.

Vanishing act without any regard to land of lost.                    

Statistical error is a fundamental society of abandonment. 

Judgment is not ideal answer to poverty stricken socialism.

Realism is yield sign in front of you to continue, not end.            

Listen within you turn to find glory.                                          

Screams out loud for pain is temporary.                                      

Never is a word confined in pages of dictionary.

Life is for the taking.                                                                      

Death is following.                                                         

Throw me a key, to unlock.                                      

A sentence called writer’s block.                                          

One has conviction.                                                    

One has an impression.                                                       

One has troubles in life.                                                        

In this place called writer’s block.

Who, what, why, and when is the never-ending story.                

Basics of fact are where option lies to surrender opinion.     

Decisions defy what is not, gain who you are from birth.             

What is a planet; Earth without virtue to the meaning.

Why is a constant key to battle in my mind speaking?          

When like I said, not confined is the never-ending story.          

Throw me a key.                                                           

Throw me a key.

Life is for the taking.                                                                         

Death is following.                                                                 

Throw me a key, to unlock.                                                                    

A sentence called writer’s block.                                                        

One has conviction.                                                                

One has an impression.                                  

One has troubles in life.                                              

In this place called writer’s block.                     

Turn-key opens the lock.

Reviews

[Sadiesmiles]

I like this poem, but it is a bit wordy. Some verses don't really pertain to the overall point of the piece, and could easily be removed. Also you may want to choose phrases based on your audience, (I have no clue who Cheron and Acheron are, and I am not the only one.) as this could help readers understand and appreciate this poem more. But I think you did pretty well over all besides the few points of concern listed above, but keep writing and you will improve! .....................................................................................................................................

[Glen Yumang Manese]

Sadie ---

Thanks for the time and review...I see your concerns...I took "Writer's Block" in a different realm altogether with the lyric verse here...taking you the reader through Hell and back. Well, not quite in Hell...but at the gates of Hell...as if you're in Purgatory and cleansing yourself for a comeback...from a solitude as a writer...those references are Mythology places and characters...if I took them out of context...that would definitely make the work less concrete...from what I want the reader to see and understand as one goes in the "Writer's Block"...or prison cell...and finds his/her way out with the key...which is not a key in reality...but one's own self journey to move on from what hinders them from writing...a complex write...not easily read once and get the fulfillment of the entirety...then again...I've never been one to write simple text...as for improvement...to this write...would you like to see the stages this took to get here and now...I was once a rudimentary writer, but I was mistaken...and fought back from the masses...to get where I am today...as a scribe to the written word...again...read through the complexity and will make more sense...good day...happy writing...

[keatsgb]

Hello again Glen,
The final line should have read'
...thanks for putting such a profound idea into a poetic perspective!
Apologies and without being unduly repetitive thanks again for the great piece of work

[Glen Yumang Manese]

K --- thanks for your time and review of my work...this took 3 different stages to get the words and rhyme scheme done...and a lot of headaches...again thanks for both reviews...

[keatsgb]

This is an inspirational interpretation of the perpetual dilemma of the 'writer's block'
A pleasure to read and thanks for putting so profound into a poetical perspective