thinking about the hell of being a poet

well, i was just sitting here about an hour or so ago wondering some of the same stuff, why is it...(i wondered) some times stuff runs out so fast i cant type good enough to keep up, and its some mind blowing shit, or so i feel, but anyway other times, like earlier tonight, or last i sat down to try and write yesterday, i was so slow....not feeling it, looking at the junk like a bunch of dumb words with no purpose or meaning. then tonight, as i was thinking that, i just looked at the writing medium, thought...lets check this out, started reading something i jotted on here quickly the other day, revised it...and good or bad something came flowing back anyway, you know the lines write themselves....so step back a second, take a few deep breaths, a few full swigs or a few whatevers it may be, and just wait for it to write itself for you, i predict its coming soon.yep, thats what i say, and stand by. yessir and dont get hung up on the perfect line here or there, if i get to a point where i lose it, but i got the meter, the rhythm...i leave blank space, follow the idea out of there till the void fills itself when im in the shower or something, on the throne. yep. sorry so long winded, i am insane you know. everyone will some day, it goes along with the first discovery--that most nobody has made. really, i love you mr steve reel. you are a hard worker, and i know you don’t care for the flattery, and might paint yourself a not so hard worker,cause you don’t think life is about tooting a horn or something, but as i have known you here and there, you always have the works going on, and i like that, and wish i was playing more, im just a poet. we are both free thinkers, and that will get a kid in trouble now and then, seeing through the two way glass...lots of people would call that paranoid talk, figure the lack of trust in the illusion of this system is a dangerous and foolish pursuit. lots of people, the kind i call my family and friends call that type a hero.