The Bards, the Jesters, the Freedom Fighters

Getting up in the dark, in the cold of the night

Shadows lengthen to the dim computer light

I'm sitting typing my heart away on the keys

Because if I stop, I will surely freeze

Lyrics and songs crossing through my mind

Spewing in different ways, what will I find?

Memories dredged from my flooded past

Inspirational spurges how long will it last?

Twisting my patterns of sleep for the words

Getting up early, before the worm or birds

Tapping, tapping the board all the way

If I don't get sleepy I could do it until day

For writing is my passion, it's what I breathe

It's all around me, in my blood, I cannot leave

From the cradle of life until the tomb

A welcoming curse until my unavoidable doom

Whoa! Nothing seems to stop my thoughts

Not even the writing blocks I have fought

Here I go again " back in the saddle

I'm up the river with a motor, not a paddle

Watch me as I crack my finger gleefully

Typing away in my own little world, peacefully

I am amongst them, the poets, the writers

The bards, the jesters and the freedom fighters