Sleeping On A Tablecloth Poem by Barlot ...

I took a break from the slavery of words
But when I returned, I found my style was nothing as it had been before
'What could have changed? ' I asked in distress.
My best response proved to be of no aid-
As it involved the lack of rainy days-
Which seem to be in abundance.
I then made a list of from then to now
Hoping to find out how...ridiculously free I've become:
The lack of fun being number one
(Meaning I sleep all day)
Number two revolved around you
(And how you've moved away)
Three and four were never conscripted-
As time never permitted such matters.
Egads! Once more I break the chain
My brain can't seem to help my central nervous system properly function
There truly is a fine junction between genius and insanity
The statistic of such appears to be me-
I can't even believe my own writing!
Sight some portions of your beautiful vocabulary
Mix it with passion for foreign catastrophe
And there you have it-
Me!
Minus the quest for a fair democracy.
Yeah, I've lost all faith in a nation as ours-
Under medication
Under the stars.
And here lies the problem in subliminal change-
If a new Constitution can't even be contructed in a country where education is required
Then one would assume that a sixteen-year-old Bohemian shouldn't be so inspired...
To participate in such nonsense, of course
There is no will in writing for me anymore.