The Views of the Muse

i call the muse.

yo Muse, where you been?

 

we have a deal

he never answers.

 

i imagine his words

I’ve been busy.

 

He knows this

pisses me off.

hey it’s your job!

 

finally... he says

give me your best shot.

 

amusing the muse

requires subterfuge

because a muse

is a ruse if I lose

inner fuse

 

and by oozing with booze

and searching for clues

even singing the blues

I need the muse

on my cruise

 

these ideas are who’s?

I wonder then use

words wonderfully bruised

after sipping more brews

 

I look up to him

say, Got anything more?

He looks down at me

stuck here on the floor

 

and I’m starting to snore

I guess I'm a bore

I know you abhor that

my words feel like war

 

he gets out his sword

and says lay it on me

 

he continues:

 

it all comes from you

though your words have the flu

and you will rue  

overuse and abuse

though I give you some clues.

 

just peruse

or you'll lose

the gems that I choose

 

don't fear poems

like sloughs

that feel like a bruise

 

they're needed you see

to find succinctly

the ones that should be