synapses and mystic pathways or a tale of blogging inside your head

it always begins with a few words
and then a pause
of indiscriminate length
while the workings of a mind
take their own sweet time
warm their engines
spit and polish the nuerons
test the synapses and mystic pathways
hit the delete button
just to make things interesting
then finally engage

bloog

i was thinking about my mother yesterday
and an old b and w photo i have of her
she must have been about
33 or 34
two little boys on her knees
a dog at her feet
long brown hippy hair
sitting in the garden
I was thinking about her as a writer
she always loved the poetry and shakespeare and books
she keeps a little exercise book of poems and anecdote things she loves
and wondering if my old dad
he of the 9 lives
ever got it
ever gave her time to extend her creativity
or if it was just the time of woman
doing what they were told
pushing themselves down
to fit
cos i reckon i got the word love from her
and i just take the time i need
to be creative
but she never did
maybe never thought she was good enough
never wanted to take the risks
or ...
i dunno
lizy and the young prince and me missus
all creative little devils we are
always singing or playing or writing or
blogging
but me mum
never really did
makes ya bit sad when ya think about it
that sacrifice
hope she gets the fruit from our fruit
maybe she sees it and is..
anyway
made me think about me and ck and the littilies and me mates
and how lucky we are to have the creative
sparky thing going on
and how precious it is and how we should
honour it abit more in our days
not be sacred of it or anything
just bring it out
cos we can ya know
and some can't
and truth to tell
we could go
either way.