Monday, April 17, 2006

Poetica Schmoetica

In lieu of anything new to say, here's something I found scribbled in an old note pad...

My Pencil's sharp, my brain is too,
but the words? they will not come.
They're hiding somewhere down the road,
and keeping me struck dumb.

They're scared of what I'll do to them,
When I string them all together,
That I if use them wrongfully
They'll be condemned forever.

Well, I can't sit and wait for them,
I'll have to go and look,
and find, and catch, and pin them down,
and stick them in my book.

Maybe I should re-write this to make it more appropriate for this medium, but that means finding something that rhymes with 'blog' instead of book. It's all too hard.

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