Claude Monet

Nomad being Nomad
What does a writer write when satisfied?
Probably come to grips about how it's all a lie.
Have to admit he'll never be content, 
always hell bent
on proving his talent is well spent.
Tries too hard and can't take a hint.
Pitched his tent and refuses to leave his space unoccupied.
He will never abide cause the rules are bent.
Drinking water from flint,
paying price gouged rent,
wallet needs a splint,
can't afford a chocolate peppermint.
Will never be a fancy gent.
You can keep your julep.
I'll take a cold beer sip and go gaze at a Claude Monet painting of a field of tulips.
While I eat tortilla chips with jalapeno cheese dip.
Reminisce about shaking my hips like an Elvis impersonator on Sunset Strip.
While narcotics made me bite my lip.
It was a crazy ride but one hell of a trip.
Now I sit and look at my notes
wondering what is this message I wrote
something about a moat 
with a sail boat
that can no longer float
because of a lightning bolt
wake up with a big jolt
Must've fell asleep on my keyboard again.
Maybe I should go back to writing with my favorite pen.
Then I would begin with a story and be done by tonight at ten.
Celebrate with a glass of gin,
while eating Cornish hen
because my assignment for my fictional audience is finally in.
I just pushed send
therefore, I bid you farewell, the end.

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