Expression, creation, and freedom II

Do you believe
In what you see?
Motionless wheel
Nothing is real.
Wasting my time
In the waiting line.
Do you believe in
What you see?

--Zero 7

In the big league Western news today: Iraqi cabinet members are being sworn in today in the midst in increased violence; journalists from Nepal demonstrate for freedom of the press; and a man in North Carolina reports finding a finger in his custard.

It cool and partly sunny outside. The younger/smaller rat terrier, Gwen, is sitting at my feet staring at the banana I am eating. I don't particularly care for bananas, but it's healthier than a burger.

Here is a poem expressing the opposite sentiment from the one posted a couple days ago:

The hues all slip together here
Shades of blue and gray
Tempo slows and disappears
Distinction blurs away

The road has not been finished here
The stones just simply stop
Sitting on the edge I peer
I linger at the drop

They never made the whole world here
Ahead the sights all fade
No one ever visits here
No future can be made

It sometimes feels like music here
A slow and trembling haunt
Calls to mind forgotten tears
A child's face sad and gaunt

The view is always clouded here
The fog rolls out of site
You cannot see what is not there
Within this failing light

I cannot not recall you here
Sitting on this shelf
I am lost and all alone
Alone inside myself.

Rather than the sense of familiarity, connection, comfort, and certainty of "Twilight", the dark tones of "Shades of blue and gray" reflect a sense of desperate isolation that has gone from painful to hauntingly numb.

I once wrote some poetry that was lost in server crash. I was asked if I could replicate a particular piece that a friend of mine apparently enjoyed, but, you know, it's interesting, but for me creativity is a one-time one-shot deal. Even if I wanted to write it again it would come out different each time.

Do you have such a relationship with your creativity? How do you express yourself?