BLOCKED, or THE BLOGGER’S LAMENT

At morning, or sunk in the depths of night,
I cannot think of anything to write.

Each day with Writer’s Block I have a fight;
I cannot think of anything to write.

Yes, blocked like a rat’s anus: very tight.
I cannot think of anything to write.

Perhaps a Photoshop, my friends to spite?
I cannot think of anything to write.

A Recipe, from which to cook a bite?
I cannot think of anything to write.

A picture of Hakuna bathed in light?
I cannot think of anything to write.

A post ’bout Politicians, left or right?
I cannot think of anything to write.

Rev Wright’s orations on the Evil White?
I cannot think of anything to write.

No, I cannot think of anything to write.
I think I will go out and fly a kite.