passed along by the ever-indomitable notwolf:

"Put your mp3 player thingy on shuffle, and write down the first line of the first twenty songs. Post the poem that results."

I know there's something that you're dying to tell me.
I was losing all my friends, was losing them to drinking and driving.
He's a real nowhere man, sitting in his nowhere land--
Jonny, angry Jonny, this is Jezebel in hell.
I took my sister down to the ocean,
When I counted all my blessings, saw there was one for every day.
I know why I like you.
Suzanne takes you down to her place near the river;
I should be standing at the bar waving a ten-pound note around.
I had a passion for strangers and prescription painkillers.
Well, I'm beginning to see the light.
She said you think there's nothing wrong, well there is.
Our conversation, short and sweet,
Why does my heart feel so bad?
I was always late, you, never afraid.
I met this funny girl alone on a bridge,
She came spitting fire on a day like no other.
I went down to the crossroads, fell down on my knees.
Well, sometimes I go out by myself and I look across the water.
Take what you need while there's time.


Not exactly something to send in to a journal, but a little bit interesting.

My problem with writing is that I can't do what I'm expected to do, or what I plan on doing. It just happens spontaneously. Despite this, I have a prompt table I want to try, two different people's request lists that might make it into print just for them, Yuletide and my Heroes Exchange fic, a tarot-based prompt community, and the vague idea that it might be hilarious to draw a few prompts from the poems of Catullus.

I don't even know if I have that many ideas in my head! Doesn't stop me from thinking about the potential, though.

Bleah. Trying to finish things before I start new ones. I really suck at that, but I'm trying...