On Writing

Constipated mental frustration,
write write write
nothing comes and everything stays
why won't I bring it to light?
Some call it writers block,
I call it  consuming fear
it makes my mind stagnate
and push away all that is dear

© 2008 Molly Hauk. All Rights Reserved

I just wrote this to get the words flowing again.  I think a good old .99 composition notebook will be my medium. I like to watch the way my words look on paper, the feel of the pen in my hands, not the sensation caused by the separation of tangible thought from the strokes of a pen created by the keys that my fingers merely stumble over. If it were not for spell check you would never read this because my thoughts race to my fingers with a quickness and I am afraid to look back and correct it for I may lose the train of thought.

If songwriting is about entertaining folks, I ask myself what do I have to bring to the table here. I write in black and white, all or nothing. Either I give you my truth or copy some one else's thoughts in way of posting their lyrics based on the way I feel. I can not write about what I have not experienced.  Writing creatively again sounds so refreshing to me, but where do I start? Have I ever just told a story that was not a true life event for me? I hear so many song writers, folk singers out there singing about the life we live, the Americana that triggers the fond memory of riding in my father's 1958 Ford pick up truck through the country roads gone so long ago  due to the sprawl of over population and lack of understanding simplicity.

Oh, don't get me started on that, I gotta go sing now and then clean a room.

here have another song!

No Feelings

Sex Pistols

 

I've seen you in the mirror when the story began
And I fell in love with you, I love yer mortal sin
Yer brains are locked away but I love your company
I only ever leave you when you got no money
I got no emotions for anybody else
You better understand Im in love with my self
My beautiful self

A no feelings, a no feelings, a no feelings
For anybody else

Hello and goodbye in a run around sue
You follow me around like a pretty pot of glue
I kick you in the head you got nothing to say
Get out of the way cos I gotta get away
You never realise I take the piss out of you
You come up and see me and I'll beat you black and blue
Okay I'll send you away

I got no feelings a no feelings
No feelings for anybody else
Except for my self, my beautiful self, bitch

There aint no moonlight after midnight
I see you stupid people out looking for delight
Well Im so happy I'm feeling so fine
I'm watching all the rubbish you're wasting my time
I look around your house and there's nothing to steal
I kick you in the brains when you get down to kneel
And pray you pray to your god

No feelings a no feelings
No feelings for anybody else
Exept for my self
Your daddys gone away, be back another day
See his picture hanging on your wall

There and Here

Lurking in the back pages of my mind lies a voyeur
peering into my life with disconcerted effort, as if removed from the now
like it is not happening to me.
Images blur into the past with black ooze,
layers of charred skin fall like petals of a lotus,
and up from the ashes flies the prodigal phoenix
in white-blue light of vindication.
That lurking stranger is now a participant in her own life,
grabbing each waking hour with a cat like curiosity
no longer flying by the seat of some one else's pants to hit the ground running,
not ripping out seems that were not frayed my her.
Erupting from the suffocating word of can't,
she reaches for the why the hell not,
rebellious natured spirit freed by only doing,
not wishing on stars that have been dead for many light years,
catch a spark in her eye and that is the glimmer of the present.
The past  has unclenched its icy grip on her soul,
it no longer defines who she thought she was,
no longer on the path of what used to be,
she ran to stand still in her own flesh for so long
no more, she shed more than a few layers of the past.

it is done.
© 2008 Molly Atkinson Hauk. All Rights Reserved.