I came across the Poetry Slam Challenge and thought, I could smash out a little epiphany to share with the world.

What resulted however was hours of frustration, a barely literate combination of words, and some tortured drawings to accompany them. The pictures representative of the pains of staying up all night trying to write a fucking poem didn't really relate at all to the poems topic. As it happens the grouping of words was questionable of a topic at all.

What is wrong with me!

A POEM!! That sounds benign enough. I've written stuff before. I have graduated from tertiary learning!

So I thought I'd have another crack at it.............

It also got me thinking about a movie I saw recently. Hunt For The Wilderpeople. If you only see one indie NewZealand film this year, this is the one. It's #magestical

Anyway, a gorgeous preteen character Ricky Baker is encouraged to express himself in haiku to help him share his feelings when he is upset.

That cant be too hard.

WELL IT IS ALRIGHT!!!!!!!!!!!!

So I didn't write a haiku. That's okay. There are many forms of poetry.

So while I should have been using the single hour a day in which my toddler sleeps to find the floor in my living room or the bench top in the kitchen, or take out the pile of garbage, I had to write something. (I also drew a couple of pictures by means of therapy to process the difficult task of producing the passage). Yes a passage. I'm not sure it can be classified a poem, but as it's my second ever attempt at anything remotely poetic. I need to submit it, and the said doodles. Yes doodles, as in substandard scribble/drawing of course, not to be confused with art.

Be kind. I'm not claiming art for either mediums, but although frustrating at times I must say it was an experience attempting to stretch my mind, and I have a new appreciation for creative, expressive writing. So thank you @prufarchy for the fun times.

My poem is called - ALOGIA ( Which basically means poverty of speech)

ALOGIA

I long to produce the words,
to release the soul and lay waste to the anguish of aphasia.

I long to live rather than subsist,
to access the truth and make tangible this insensate existence.

I long to make contact with sentiment long vanquished,
to discover what lies beneath the veneer.

I long to ratify the anguish,
to repose at long last.