Write This Poem Yourself

To write is to read your own thoughts , or something clever like that - and don't expect me to write those thoughts for you.
So here is the latest poem:

Fill in the white space , because that's what it's about anyway. There is no point in me filling it in for you. If i am to be licentious , then let this be the ultimate in poetic license: My words mean anything you want them to mean. So you might as well write them yourself.

This is one of those clever-stupid little texts designed to produce something, and don't you wish you knew what that is.

I suppose that you didn't fill in the white space as you were instructed ;
If you did, thank you, thank yourself for your salvation.
If you DIDN'T , why didn't you?
Why didn't you do all the exercises in all the self-development and mystical books you read?
Did you think that some of the magic would seep through just by reading the mantras and invocations and looking at the fukken pictures?
Well, if you did , you were wrong. And this kind of thing will continue unless you get off my back and stop reading and thinking and switch off the computer and go outside and SCREAM for joy , CRY for pain , BREATHE deep- if the air is clean enough.

If you DON'T i shall continue with my poetic license on things you may or may not get , as i may or may not get them myself.
You have been warned.

It is very easy to fill in the white space with products of your imagination as stimulated by the appropriate stimuli, which can be things like the necessity to communicate, and to connect with others at a deeper, non-local, almost telepathic way that evades the proscribed and compromised channels. I am producing thoughts in your mind ( i have faith) in this manner , providing stimuli for your creative application.

Bubba
Bubble
Bubbalicious
Tween
Finger
V
bicircular
trilinear
quadrangular
paraprism
hologrammar
Gramma
index
interface
diamond
edge
stripes
cloud
seed
verse

heart of the mountain
eye of the crystal
ear of the river
atmo sphere
hand of the clay
foot of the cloud

empty inside the fool
in a matter of no time
the mother of
the father of
the brother of
the sister of

Deeper into the darkness:
Everything we think about anything is the product of life circumstances, conditioning, pain and pleasure, how we live, where we live, how we make our bread. The choices we make and those that are made for us. Our karma, personal and ancestral. Concepts, labels, understandings, views, are all circumstantial. And it's not just the thoughts. Most of our feelings are also the product of the above . And so is our behaviour towards ourself, our living body, and others.
"I" is a program - in other words: you little program . And hence we inevitably come to the following ininevitable statement:

How fucked up is this, i hear you cry, because you know that Nothing Is, you know it don't you, but you're too much of a wuss to admit it - nyaa nya, nya-nya nyaaa, Nothing Is, Nothing Is, Nothing Is!

So by now it becomes imperative to suss out the author's motives , and the validity of the source of this information, whether it is really something or whether it's just another nothing amongst the other nothings floating around in the something.
It might be the other way around, and if you're still reading , well done.
I'm done, finished , kaput , there really is little more to write , and the poetic license is by now looking pretty shredded. . .