WORSE THAN COCK BLOCK by George Schaefer

The bell rings
so someone bought the bar a round.
You look up 
to politely acknowledge
the kind stranger.

You have another shot
You go with J.D.

The creative juices
are flowing 
and you feel inspired
Great—or at least adequate—poetry
might be committed today

but then you realize
there’s no ink left
in the pen you have
You don’t want to draw attention
by requesting a pen.

It’s even worse than cock block
when you feel a poem coming on
and lack the means 
to commit it to paper.

The locals in the bar
are chatting up a storm
and craziness is abundant.

Thru the chatter
I find out
that moose barbacoa
is actually a thing here

I want to be writing
as the despair 
of the locals 
is begging to be exploited

On the radio,
I hear Boy George singing,
“Do you really want to hurt me?”

Apparently,
the answer is yes.

George Schaefer is a Philly based poet who hides out in a small suburban apartment.  He occasionally utilizes mass transit to visit the city and record poetic observations that he hopes will one day inspire dozens to new heights.  He clings to the hopes that the poetry will speak for itself.