Where does Writers Block come from?

So yesterday I was asked, “Where does Writers Block come from?”

First and foremost one must not look at writers block as something negative or positive, but as a state of being that is. Whether necessary, asked, appreciated, or acquired, it’s a place of void that slows or disables artistic creation.

So… is writers block a place of void or just simply a break? Is it a necessity for growth or a writer’s worst enemy? Does it fluctuate depending on purpose, emotion, or tool of expression?

Is writer’s block an inability to express emotions or simply a lack of emotions to express? One can argue that writer’s block has nothing to do with emotions at all.

So with that does the ability to express change with the tool of expression? Is writers block different from when a painter is not motivated, or a musician is not feeling the music around them? What is art? Is the act of creation enough to be art? Or does art need to be back by emotions, expressions, and feelings in order for it to feel substantial? And if creation enough encompasses art, then what is the relationship between lack of creation (writers block) being a state of art.

Some express that writer’s block is merely a transition period, a point of reflection, regression, progression, evolution, growth, or change. But if that is so, then what are you leaving and where are you going? Or does neither matter.

As one brother put it, writers block is “The lost of truth in your words. The moment you become untrue is it the moment in which words protest your pen.” Now, this to me seems like a personification of writing. As if writer’s block is the voice for the art. Speaking loud and clear: damn I am over worked; under paid, bored, or just simply something is not aligned. Writers block is the catalyst for truth and clarity to be found.

In questioning the void and absence of the art you begin to question the purpose of its existence. And not just place the value of each word as a factor in creating perfect sentences, but actually molding or changing someone’s thoughts and thinking. If my ability is snatched away at times when I dare not ask or expect, then of course I want to question why it is not there when I think I need it.

So is writer’s block simple a nomad. It comes and goes based on its own freedom, and inclination, not on life, emotions, tools, expression or growth.

Does any of this even really matter?

StolenLegacy

Stolen legacy
Strapped caged mind disabled body
Stuck swollen by life's fight
Swirled emotions
Swarm with commotion
Suddenly distractions equal fractions
Seconds spent wasted in time
Summer spending
Sequential minutes
Surrounded by nothing but references
Sadly succumbed by seduction
Secluded to a place of passion
Straddle and strapped
Sultry share of expression
Satisfied
She stroked
She floats
sure of nothing
Stuck on him
Standing, walking, left, her
Searching, for answers to match his questions,
She, branded
Substance tainted
Steady head strung,
strong willed but lost
Staggering between his syllables, his love song,
Strategically tranced her
Summer silenced by his words on repeat
Scanning each moment,
surveying each place
Submissive response to sunrise,
solitude
Stolen legacy
Solution : escape seconds spent in esctacy
Suffering for higher ground
She smiles, sky miles hung on his each word
slow recaps
Secluded to a place of satisfaction
She settled
stepped back ,
Stuck in love for self
Success with each second,
stupidity stepped
She lost time.
Selflessly.
Saddened memories
Her Legacy stolen
Gradually
Self slowly excepted.
Success with each word
She no longer listens.
smiles. submissive to self. Love.
Legacy re molding.

Concrete,Swollen.

Recollection
Seconds become ours
You
I
Conjoined
Gave
And given
Slowly riding
Course unforgotten
Our road less driven
We never meant this
Stopped
Dead at tracks
Guilt ridden
Hope searching
Blind loving
Before us
Stole, a place of worth
Life living purpose with seeing
Us.
Fallen
Concrete. Swollen
Bruised Loving
Unconditionally open
Yet taken
A Void.
Of social living
Rules. Limits. Creation
Golden
You were life.
Emotions misplaced
Ashamed
My secret
My sanity
The We. in Us
To get her
Magic
Chaos
Esctacy
Raw.
Lust
All or nothing
Below
Or average
Drowning
Priceless
But Worth something
Trust fall
Last seconds past hours
Claimed passion
Was it to be
Truth. Strong. Unity. In All
Chosen,
Never broken
Tainted poison.
A desired fear
Love.
We had it.
Together forever
We never broken
Living in dreams
Always forgotten
False reality
Lived daily
Memories.
Won't escape me
The fall
Best lived on repeat.
Love at the purest
After the miss me
Concrete swollen
Time worked
Loved.
Blessed
Nothing
We. us
Now
You
Dead
Tracks love train
Smashed and recapping
Gave borrowed love
Became
Ashamed
My secret
My sanity
the raw, the ecstasy
Mine.
You were.
Seconds became ours.
To
Past
Never forgetting
Despite all
The fall
Concrete swollen.

CardiaArrest

I will be going away for a while.
I haven't decided when or for how long.
It's not a vacation, a business trip, or a family retreat
Release report. Nah scratch that.
Well regardless of the title of my affairs,
I will be back soon. One day soon.
And no shit I am not sick
I am not dying
For I am already dead inside
Apart of me.
This is a trip of resuscitation.
Yes, many are trained in CPR
I understand that you may be able and even more willing.
However, I am too far gone for those techniques.
I need those electrical hands strapped over me.
I have been in cardiac arrest for sometime now.
Nothing a little passion, love ,and science can't heal.
Unless it's just my time. vacation time.
Aint this some bullshit.
The doctor tells me, the surgeon is on stand by.
Recommendations of possible open heart needed to heal holes left by silence and separation.
Attempts at my life while trying to heal my soul.
With no fucking insurance, I am trapped.
Clogged arteries, full of ease, daily routine, but no literary relief.
Doctor's fee charged to knowledge and growth I guess.
Hopefully the bill collectors get the memo.
That's always plan B.
But for now, I prefer internal retreat.
Cleansing meant for only me.
My ink will be resuscitated.
At dawn!
More morphine please.

FindYourLightInDarkness

I loves to be among light and observe darkness, life is learning to be stuck w in (surrounded by ) darkness and admiring light enough to change settings....

Setting boundaries, trying not to cross invisible lines, where the light shines only momentarily...darkness makes you appreciate the qualities of light... Yet what if it shines too bright...blurring visions, so one would rather love in the dark... and feel it

…The illusion is born in shadows that smile, warming cold souls luke, side effects come from too much light beyond the scope of others. Love in the dark can never be complete, having fallen during day on concrete that called my name in my sleep, how could it be justified to not be, it’s a constant relief. Lights out would simply minimize the opportunities .Among brightness you are able to notice things that have gone foreseen...

Yet seeing is not always believing, light creates shadows and they produce illusions...noticing only the fragments of one’s self... So maybe it has nothing to do with lights or being in the dark...simply with how one chooses to be seen. So I'll being a flashlight…

A flashlight. Controlled by self limitations... Beaming when thought decides, and time permits, but what about when I run out of batteries?

Umm that's when I flip on the lights

Needy People

We are a needy people. A needy people. In such that we search. We search. For answers. For questions. We research ways to survive. We are a needy people. Investigating change. Hoping for progression. And making a difference. We are a people of the masses. Of the pain. And we are the solution. We, are the needy people. the birth of every country. The pride of every building. And the mold to be. The Foundation. We are needy.

We are needy. Needing justice. Needing freedom. Needing equality. Us- the needy people. Title of every story. Fighting for what we believe in. and finding cause in every meaning. And meaning in every struggle. We are in need of each other. Taking hands to scratch backs. We are the village. We raised the child. We are kings. We are queens. We rein cities, countries, continents. We are our ancestors re born. And new. Needy. Needing progress.

We are needy people. In such that we are powerful. We have this natural inclination to do whatever it takes, by any means necessary. To survive. And yet we struggle. We survive struggle. We are needy. We fight justice. We fight injustice. We fight each other. We fight. We are a powerful being. Strength. We find light in darkness. And beauty in pitch. Black. We find faith in solemn. We find peace in faith. We have hope. Ridiculed for our differences. Ridiculed for our similarities. We are a powerful, we are a power house. A needy group of people.

We are needy. We are needy people. In such that we crave change, taste victory, and eat defeat. We are needy in power. In glory. In history. A people that continue despite misfortune. Despite destruction. Despite captivity. Segregation. Miscegenation. Lack of education. Addiction. Corruption. Malnutrition. Willie Lynch them. Die for the cause, because death is easier… sometimes.
We are a needy people.

Martyrs. Symbols. Pickets signs. Separate aint equal. Thinking voting won't change, even though our needy people died to vote. Respect. Rising. Sitting. Running. They hanging. All cuz he was humming. Education. Black education. Blacks educating blacks. Let's educate them. Tenure them. Light in the dark, light better than dark complex. Complexion. The power. Writing. Reading. They killed us for it. And we still are needy. Despite the history books. The pictures. The lynching. After countless drives, sit in, voters registrations. Legislation. We make the history of the country. We make it be.

And they say we are needy people. The truth is we are. Needing love, needing stability, needing justice, community. Needing each other. To continue despite misfortune. Despite destruction. Despite the odds. To survive. And that, we will

the art never dies

here is a piece i was truly inspired to create. check him out...miyabailey.com

Inspired by a great artist (first!!)...

He draws his dreams into existence
Sketching his hopes
Through tips built on passion and faith
A haunting habit that his soul breathes
Necessary feed, he bleeds,images
How deep
Each sight creates each masterpiece
Collisions and barricades of passion,love&pain
Life without would be meaningless
Love without would be worthless
Value is bestowed in his worth(work):
Greatness.
Blank slates, create outlets of space
Visionary guided by forces,
Natural movements.
With each blink, seconds spent closed canvas,Sketch book:dream land imagined;becomes.
Reality is rested in his ideals.
Bound by lines, colors, shapes, the feel.
Emotions manifested, observations
Of your passion touch many
Influence action
Retrace universal emotion:
Compassion
Desire
&need.
Close to heart, capturing each pump of life
Limited by time,
Yet available
The art never dies.
Production of perfection at war with priorities
And perception of loving art more
Than those tangible.
But: the obsession is within each breath.
And so it is within:
Public viewings, soul etched on all to see
Public feelings
Admired publically
Yet, only needing affirmation and confirmation
Within. mentally.
Always hungry,
Starving artist appetite despite years invested
Misunderstood by the desires of man
Aggression against time
Begging not to be wasted, spent in vain
Lost in the concept of creation.
Conscious controls living. All that is thought, is, and will be.
And he begins without instruction
Guided by movement
Requested by many
Misunderstood by plenty
Placing blame on man
For being only human
Admired, even envied for his craft.
Refreshing, eternal soul starving to be full
Yet exposed
Releasing visions, filling holes
But still left incomplete...
Just breathing...
With each sigh: inhale, exhale- relief.
As he draws his dreams into existence
With each movement comes inspiration
This haunting habit that has his soul
Breathes within him.. The art
Deep sigh: inhale, exhale, -relief.