trying to find the right verse,
from a paranoid twisted brain,
trying to find something nice,
from a brain box always angry,
trying to find something romantic,
when you are fixed on something else,
trying to be positive and fun,
when inside you are screaming,
and what you want to write,
does not come out just quite right,
like choosing a super sweet cake,
then out of the oven comes a flan.
lets not get to writers block,
or the art of not been able to diversify,
or trying to write something funny,
and when you read it you want to cry,
then everybody says what a great poem,
even if they have only read two lines,
poetry is written for the writer,
the reader reads other things,
if it’s not controversial or porn,
if it’s not in fashion,
if not it’s not worth reading,
if not it’s flat on passion,
should we write what the reader needs,
or should we write to flush out our brain,
should we bow to every whim of the reader,
or shut up and remain insane,
is writing poetry too easy,
is the market flooded with verse,
is it better to retire poetry,
before this place gets worse,
sometimes i believe i have failed,
that is why i don’t write everyday,
i still have many doubts about me,
do you like what you read?

©D.Hobson August 2013