Your style seems charmless as a sock,
Your dialogue pure poppycock,
Your sentiments the merest shlock,
Your rhythms subtle as pomp rock.
Your careful structures look ad hoc,
Your shock effects refuse to shock
And all your characters are stock.
That's block

The universe conspires to mock.
You're miserable as Van Gogh
Without the genius. You knock
Your head against the desk. The clock
Can match each tick with facile tock.
For you, though, words refuse to flock.
You've lost the key? You've lost the lock.
That's block.

Lee Venables