Brian Kesselring
Jul 10, 2017 · 1 min read

“Writers block”:

I feel like somebody’s stolen my tools

But, who cares, I have a pack mules

I don’t have time for this so-called “writers block”

If the car doesn’t run, I’ll ride the livestock

I’ll beat on my chest until I can do it

Like a light through a window, I have to pursue it

I have to stay clear and let the universe through

So it can tell me the things that I already knew

I’m not made of brick, I’m made of glass

So “writers block”… You can kiss my ass

I can’t go opaque…Gotta stay transparent

I have a tidal wave inside of me, and it is quite apparent

That even with a blank brain, I keep “bobbing and weaving”

If the words don’t come freely, time for “turn of a phrase thieving”

I’ll build adjective architecture and paint them in verb

There’s always fifty ways to spin a single word

I will dig with my hands and use them like shovels

I will find my words and they’ll heal all my troubles

My tools made of chrome, I cannot find

But I’m willing to scrape the scraps from the bottom of my mind

and push and push against the ever-racing clock

Bite me, you can’t beat me. Fuck off, “writers block”

© 2015 Brian Kesselring.

Brian Kesselring

Written by

Mixed media artist, poet, writer, multi-instrumentalist musician, singer, songwriter, photographer, digital artist, 'woke activist BrianKesselring.com