Definite Male Presence: A Poem

He sat down at the keyboard with a bit of a sigh,
for he had no ideas, not one, no lie.
For life had entered a dark dismal gloom,
one not seen since Frodo at Mt. Doom.
All that he sees on TV sure stinks,
as unpleasant a thought as slam poetry told by jar jar binks.
His gaming hours have since taken a dive,
though by no fault of his own he can't get on Xbox LIVE.
So he sits and he thinks and he thinks and he sits,
hoping John will Vlog some skits.
But a memory awakes a small fire in his head,
and he realizes now that this blog is not dead.
And thus he found the writers block and went to unclog it,
remembering the words of the god who simply said "just blog it."


In Loving Memory.