Post Process

don’t have a real pattern or process

i just travel when the words take me

i let myself get caught up in their currents

i plunge into the many depths let it overtake me

my pc is always on and ready to rock n roll

got a third party notes app on my phone

got a thousand little note books and pens

scattered from here to everywhere about my home

but if the tv is on in the room i reluctantly share

my output fizzles, pops, dries and dies

that dirty thing it zaps me and it traps me

and fills my lounge room with its pretty lies

when it's warm you’ll find me basking

tapping away on my phone out the back on the deck

but it’s starting to get cold out there now

so it’s back to the desk i must trek

if it were not for the noise of the traffic

this vantage point, still a near perfect place

i have a great view of my yard and the trees

my little slice of heaven, my own special space

and so i tap away on keyboard or on my phone

or if necessitated by need; paper and pen

i just need to cover the where, the whys and the how’s

because the what will take care of the when

add a slight smattering of nonsense

a pensive cuss or two at the most

now the words speak for themselves

negating the need to preach, hawk or boast