Inspiration

by the times of great inspiration
I seem to be lost somewhere else
tracked by a remote notion of what
seems to be THE THING
other times, I gotta be like Hunter S. Thompson
and provoke my own cahos
I bring myself to that
make the magic
of writing it down.
other times, I'm too lazy
to pick up a pencil
and a piece of paper
so I sit down
and imitate
a sound
until the sound is tired of being imitated
and shuts up
other times, I get my sward
and I fight my ideas
never won the battle
but I'm proud,
so I insist
got a lot of willpower.
in the end,
this is all very simple:
some may say I'm a happy woman
I got some papers, some loads, some men

and most of the time
I write, I sleep, I fuck, I love and I eat