The awful consequence of writer's block

My recent drive to blog more frequently
has come somewhat unstuck by circumstance
in that, to write, one first should come by some
or other happenstance of some remark.
As chance, or rather lack of chance, plays out
I find myself devoid of all such points
as would provide a suitable platform
from whence to launch another mad tirade.
So now I write purely for writing's sake
which is, whichever way one looks at it
somewhat perverse. But meh. Get over it.

And if you've read thus far it seems to stand
to reason you are perfectly content
to read a brazen contentless blog post
which, posted merely for it's own crude sake
contributes further to general haze
of meaningless cyber-gratuity
which swurvles in an ever-growing storm
of ones and zeros carefully arranged
in such orientations as to bring
the message to a screen at once removed
from my bland desk from which I click 'upload'
and yet connected in some mystic sense
(or even in a physical context
by wires or cables) by the property
of both we having had this set of lines
which, (though I say it of myself (again))
is up there with the weirdest posts I've blogged.

And tending, as I almost always do,
to write with such a style as could well be
described as “needlessly verbose” and “dumb,”
I've noticed, as no doubt have you by now,
despite it's length of full seventeen lines
the second paragraph displayed above
consists of just one sentence. That's cool (well...)!
I also can't be sure it doesn't lack
cohesion, sense or continuity.

So now that it's complete, both I and you
should go and find something useful to do.

Far from home



Garry with 2 Rs