Redundant Alphabet

REDUNDANT ALPHABET by toggle

I was standing in a poem,
a pen between my toes,
books, in flights of fancy,
took off in alphabetic rows.

The lines marched on in order
- an expression of escape -
and a comma, not a full-stop
passed sentence by mistake.

The letters leaned lazily,
the italics had a smoke.
They waited back at base-camp
but still no wordsmith spoke.

The words bled into puddles,
dripped slowly off the page,
ignored their printed orders
and deserted in a rage.

In the mutiny that followed
they got above their station.
Whole paragraphs were now involved,
even punctuation!

The muddle in the puddle
dipped its toe into the sea
and it drowned inside a teacup
which was drinking thoughts from me.

I was standing in a teacup,
the words were ankle-deep.
I took them out and dried them
but they all looked rather weak.

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Reading poems like this boils my blood even on days like this which feels like a writer’s block. The writer's block, I don’t really believe in it. A better alternate explanation is simply, a lack of inspiration.

When I put down my pen, unimpressed with what little I wrote sitting there, slumped on the page like a sullen teenager mocking me, lacking any life or motivation. Just ink smirked on a page, random words, nothing more.

Redundant is correct. Rheutorical is understating my plight. I've got the Monday blues.