A poetic collaboration between myself and a guy I like to call Too Full To Write… because that is what he calls himself too…
http://toofulltowrite.wordpress.com/
He did the first 8 lines, then I did 4, then him, and so on until I finished it up… because I always have the last word. This is a poem about both of us, and our struggle to release our inner demons by having a blog so we can share the pain with all of you. The poem is called;
THROUGH THE BLOGGING GLASS
My family don’t think I’m funny, that’s why I have myself a blog
The love that I get sent from others, makes up for the hard slog
Don’t ask me what the addiction is, no doubt the answer stinks
We write this stuff because we have to, according to the shrinks
I once tried to explain this blog in specific detail to my Mom
She kind of lost interest, she’s not big on poetry or songs
So I offer myself up to you for your own unique judgement
My subject matter rings true if you’re an adult or an adolescent
I have three people residing within me; the father, son and ghost
It helps relieve the pressure that’s building every time I do a post
My mind is buzzing full of energy and perhaps a little bit of rage
Bouncing around, a crack-addicted squirrel in a very tiny cage
What will I write about today to get you foaming at the mouth?
Climbing on top of my mountain, it’s time for me to shout out
Should I make it funny, topical, dramatic, or tender-hearted?
Or should take a turkey and Photoshop on a giraffe’s head?
Oh the places I could take you, the things that I could say
Till my spittle rains upon you like a stormy ocean’s spray
So wrap your coat about you, hang on grimly to the mast
The only thing I promise you is that we will have a blast
Put the kids off to bed and then go dim down the lights
Turn your mobile off and go pour yourself a glass of wine
Strap yourself in because it will be one hell of a ride
While I regale in glorious detail of how I nearly died
The secret of having plenty of good stories to tell
Is to dance just outside of the very gates of hell
You may get banged up, and have to walk with a limp
Or almost get your face shot off by an Amsterdam pimp
It isn’t fun for me to be me, I am frantic and manic
I live my whole life in a bit of an erratic panic
Being all art-side-of-the-brain is a pain, don’t you see?
But I think you just might enjoy watching me being me
————————————–
You should check out his blog. Not only is there lots of funny and insightful stuff there, he was kind enough to do links to my book, so…
Pouring My Art Out 
very clever 🙂
It is weird to do stuff with other people. You sort of place yourself in their hands, in a way.
Bravo! 😎
Am I blushing?
You needn’t — bask in your own good work and its results!
Right now I am trying to clean up my work and its results, in regard to the novel. But thanks.
😎
Hells yeah. Like I said over on TFTW’s blog, this didn’t seem that gay at all. I’m kidding! It’s extremely g- No! I’m kidding again.
Actually, I said I was wondering when two guys would write a poem, and I wanted it not to be me first. Or, than in the of which.
So you want to do a three way now???
LOL!
I can’t believe you hinted that this post is gay… not that there is anything wrong with that.
No.
When two men of consenting age can’t even get together to express their love of blogging by entertwinning their words in a rapturous embrace without being condemed by the world, what is that world coming too, Ed???
A gay pride parade?
You are the one who is spending all your time thinking these thoughts.
I think all sorts of thoughts. Or do they think me?
No.
Self love is no crime… in most states.
Is it bad that I truly relate to this poem? ❤
It is a good sign… at least for me… I don’t know what that says about you exactly… Ha!