Shaun Train: A Distinct Feeling of Creative Exhaustion

It was a dark and stormy night

and the sheets of rain

fell down on the town

as I made my way

to the mailbox

with a clutch of letters

in my hand.

I had finished

my philosophical work

and was posting it

to various interested people.

‘The philosophers

have only interpreted

the world in various ways,

the point, however,

is to change it,’

I began boldly

in my opening statement.

I did not want to be

one with a paucity of ideas

and an undue reverence

for source material,

or a distinct feeling

of creative exhaustion.

But, still, as I walked

down the hill

I had a sinking feeling

that everything I wrote

had all been

said before.

Partly because

most of my philosophy

was copied from

other people’s books,

but, still….

I was raised by wolves

on the edge of the forest

before becoming a

humble woodcutter

who herds sheep.

At least that’s

how I remember it

since I got my

Poetic License.

Unrhymed, unrhythmical,

the chatter goes:

Yet no one hears

his own remarks as prose.

Beneath each topic

tunelessly discussed

The ground-base

is reciprocal mistrust.

The names in fashion

shuttling to and fro

Yield, when deciphered,

messages of woe.

You cannot read me

like an open book.

I’m more myself than

you will ever look.

Will no one listen

to my little song?

Perhaps I shan’t be

with you very long

Some say the world will

end with a flat tire,

Some say by lice.

From what I’ve tasted of desire,

Either would be nice….

A fool can say anything,

even the truth.

https://www.bitchute.com/video/GPwphdnZnZRv

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Shaun Train