Writers Night

These thoughts:
Does it flow like honey, does it make you money, or is it just funny?
Bye-bye-now it stopped flowing, now I'm going
Things to write, put it on paper, how does it come?
How does it go on: heavy and hard, or soft and slow?
How does it spread, or instead, come out of your head?
Where did it originate, all so great?
How does it apply, and to whom and why?
Is it rich and creamy, or am I just dreamy?
All these thoughts make dots
Write it down, and fumble around to get it down
Jump out of bed, it's coming out of my head
Lose this moment, the words and thoughts will evaporate
Like buried treasures never to be found
How and why before it dies
Dare to share, write it down, pass it around
Thoughts come out like a fine turned machine
Try to explain or share what it means
It's 2:32 a.m. Who are you, what part of the brain is trying to explain
All this stuff? What a fuss
But it's a must before it turns to dust or even rust
But it goes down on paper as it's found.time to lie down
Thoughts are silent, read to myself
Yet when shared can be so loud
How can I be such a mystery, or sometimes misery?
What an awesome thing; no noise, just silent thoughts
Rolling out of my head like a pouring rain
Straight from the brain

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