THe FuNK iS BaCK

The funk is back.

((Soul Brother))

Beckoning me from bed.

To live and breathe and think and do.

And be.

But I withdraw.

Back in my slumber.
Not wanting to grasp its meaning.

But it’s here again. Controlling me.
When all I want

Is to
do and
think and
breathe

And be.

What does it want from me?
To spew
these words, pull them from
the pen and .

Then it stops.

As quickly
as started.

At lost. It's lost.

The funk retreats.

Hides behind the covers of my lids.
So that I can only

see, what others cannot.

So that they do not know
That He exists,
Waiting to
plummet the pen
into these words.

10:54 p.m. 10-15-09