Is Regularity A Gift? Poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

Asking me if I like to write...
Is like inviting someone to define,
The art of excrement done.

It is something one does.
From a 'Divine' assignment given.
Like the naturalness of breathing.
Is that regarded as a talent?
Could one decide upon another hobby?
To choose to hop on one leg?
Finding that walking on two,
Has bored!

Is regularity a gift?
And to sustain it with a prolificness.
Would this still be a question asked?
Would humans become closer...
If we were all praised,
For the passing of gas?
And how long would the praise of that done,
Last?

That's the question I would want answered.
If I was curious enough to ask.

Asking me if I like to write...
Is like inviting someone to define,
The art of excrement done.
Or if I find the craft of it satisfying!

And sometimes I am lost...
For which appropriate words to toss.
IF I am experiencing a constipation of thought.

And 'everyone' has had those 'Why-Me-God' moments.

Is regularity a gift?
Well,
I can only express it like this...
I have yet to be blown away by my own talents.
Sometimes they are there unconsiously.
And at other times I find I am straining,
For an easier release...
That does not arrive with such profound blockage.