T-kun Unusual Wordsmith III

With a name such as Creature,

Or something as;

It Came From the Drive In,

Horror comes to mind,

But luckily,

It’s only a name and a title.

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It becomes as it sounds, Read the rest of this entry →

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He’s a writer, Read the rest of this entry →

Come little into the night,

Silent is something is weak and unneeded,

With soon,

Loudness is the only way to handle oneself.

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Every moment to hear this name, Read the rest of this entry →

Keeping it simple to start with and subtle as it is, and there can only be the once to see as, even as others don’t, but coming to it, it’s always been and always will be the same in the world:  The horse does the work and the coachman is tipped. And even then, the world is screwed; we just choose not to notice.

Yet, we have to see that even the bonds of matrimony are like any other bonds; they mature slowly, going beyond and so much more than any human could ever understand.

They just have to know where to start, even though the ending makes little to no sense. For even, someone, as I hope life isn’t a big joke, because I don’t get it,  as the punch line feels more real, than just passing a basic joke around of words, that leave the lips so easy.

Between every two pines is a doorway to a new world, which is breaking to get out. But is there someone, anyone, besides, I, to look for that said world and welcome it. Even; though the fear of doing so could end in distastefulness.

So bitter in the mouth, we soon see that freedom is never free. It has to take through levels of life. Breaking; not only the body, but the heart and soul as well. For, those higher, whom don’t know this, laugh at our misfortunes.

But we have to be daring, to step out the lines of the color book world. Bring our dreams to come true, but if you want to make your dreams come true, the first thing you have to do is wake up! And break those chains that hold you back, keeping you from really knowing what you can do. And bluntly so, that whatever is you, is great, even if they, the faceless shadows, say otherwise.

Yes, it sounds like hell, unwelcoming, and painful to do walk. But if you’re going through hell, keep going. That light at the end, may feel like the end of heaven, but it’s far the truth, as it is, the start, to do again, and again right.

And you scream to the high heavens, deepest hells, and endless echoes of limbo, where you hem your blessings with thankfulness so they don’t unravel. Less to have the chance, and repeat all that has been lost, hidden, crushed, taken away in a simple gist of wind. For, it’s a wind that will mark your flesh, kindly with warmth of lies or penetratingly with coldness of truth.

For; as you look back in your yearly book, of the passing years, you had dared yourself to walk. You’ll recall that you did something wise, without knowing, and what that was to put your future in good hands . . . your own. And boldly . . . if I do say so myself!

But boldly may be good, it can be a curse, if not used right. When bold becomes something else, leaving you filled with hatred, leaving you to be something, others are fear it, for every minute you are angry, you lose sixty seconds of happiness, and those who care for you. That is a mindless and simple risk, and only a risk that is something to take, if you fear that there nothing else to lose.

Having nothing else, but; your words and actions to reflect on it! That not even, that of the only good thing about punctuality is that it usually gets you an apology. But was it an apology worth it? When in the end, you didn’t even mean it?

And if does, what of that world, outside of yours? The one, you spoke highly of, of how it revolves around you and only you. That evens the simple and none profitable such as all art requires courage, when seeing you lack it. Speaking harshly, that even I fall there, but I have the nerve to say it!

Even to say, that seasons of life have more in them than you! Just as how winter is dead; spring is crazy; summer is cheerful and autumn is wise! They give so much more, with no try, they just do!

Listen quietly and you could hear of how the summer night is like a perfection of thought. Thinking carefully of every thought, knowing somehow, someway! They’ll work! With time, did you ever have that?

Or: how in the dead of winter, every mile is two in winter, which everything that is done, should be done twice. Once; with what you know, twice; from another voice, all done before the end of the year is over and starts with the next season in following.

That in the shine of spring! You can cut all the flowers, but you cannot keep spring from coming. It’ a wild season, which can never, kept down by any hands of life, for it is life that fears nothing and yet everything. That is what it takes to be bold!

To; not forget little autumn, so wise, full of perceptive. Having little to enjoy when you can, and endure when you must, for you are like winter, dead as night, rethinking twice alone, wasting others time.

Wisdom for all is how some folks are wise and some are otherwise. You little fool, are the latter of the list. Speak not of how little white lies you could do, for I won’t hear it. Not again, not ever!

Recall of the lack of worry you brought on yourself, just as people gather bundles of sticks to build bridges they never cross, for they know, happily and sadly to others, they know someone else will cross it for them. Caring little if they make it or not.

And with that, my little weeds. Is where I live you, for I am needed elsewhere? Where, hard to say, just remember, my little weeds, yes, why? Easy, a weed is but an unloved flower. To that goodbye to you and hello my next ears to listen.

As time moves on, slowly and surely, as time is a dressmaker specializing in alterations. Carefully making changes, but unknowing of what the changes will do.

Become blind to see society attacks early, when the individual is helpless. Leaving the lack, of the choice to be different hard to become more as a chore.

Seeing that what is made by man can’t even do something easy, as to us is breathing. You cannot endow even the best machine with initiative; the jolliest steam-roller will not plant flowers. It’s not that easy, little human, it is not.

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M is for the Moments where our hearts never apart, even when we grow older

O is for the Over-caring attitude of yours, deep down I know you mean well

M is for the Mourning you’ll have when I’m gone, from home not the heart

M is for the Memories That will never die, cause you keep them alive

Y is for the Yucky feelings you kept away, mom, I’ll always love you for it

1000 words can’t express what has changed thus far,

Speaking as only one soul,

Looking past of what has happen,

And show some kind of emotion.

Where in others want to gaze as steel,

Frozen forever,

Unmovable but not close that as,

The noble Iron Man,

For we are only human!

Just closing our eyes,

And sleep,

Just go back to sleep,

Go on counting bodies like sheep to the rhythm of the war drums,

And forget it all,

As to seen as a horrific dream of vinegary awareness . . .

Becoming closer to verve,

But far from imagination of endless coyness,

What an evil game it has become.

Straightforward theater settings;

Just as girls being them,

And boys will be boys,

Simple but a fact,

Of being themselves with less of the freedom,

To do so!

Hearing nothing but,

Mordred’s Lullaby drowning,

Choking,

Sparing nothing but the ashes of,

Death at its worst,

But it’s most welcoming greeting.

Just as looking to futuristic flights,

Of airplanes covering the sky,

Going places,

The few and golden get to do,

As if mindless and warping routine.

Following the streaks left behind,

Ending up to oddly,

Boundlessly lose yourself,

To join the dances of the thin lines,

Of morphing pale clouds . . .

Crying to skies for all to hear,

“Don’t mess with me”,

To deaf ears that care little,

But maybe just one or two,

Heard?

Don’t you worry child,

In time,

Something is to come,

Anything at your fingertips!

Forgetting all of the spring setback sore,

Summertime sadness,

Autumn animosity,

And wintry weather wantonness,

That follows close behind every passing year.

Leaving little else left to do,

Is just counting stars,

And hoping for something,

Anything . . .

An uprising that would be change,

But only known as a dream,

To some that are called fools.

Children that have become untouchable on the bare,

Just as my skin,

Unwanted or lack the need for care,

For it wasn’t made for them.

Shattered heart,

Swelling eyes,

Tried body of the fail and

The numbing useless!

But not this time,

Right here and right now,

A change is to come!

So come little children,

Who was as been seen in nothing but a dark superfluous light . . .

And make something happen.

The need to become stronger,

Is now or never,

Companions!

Let them know,

The last to know,

Of what you can do!

Do not think of this in vain,

For there is always,

Always,

Somebody to die for,

Beyond yourself!

Following nights to come,

You’re going down in history,

For all to remember from that day onward!

Release what is holding you back,

That she-demon,

Let her go,

And embrace what is left,

What is central you.

It’s never too late,

To make a change,

You just need a start.

Make the memoires,

Make the future.

You want to be happy?

You have to make that happiness,

On your own;

With words and actions,

No one can do but you.

March on as the diluted,

Unforgettable,

Pink elephants on parade!

Break free,

Don’t become a cannibal,

Such as me!

A troublemaker to some,

Who was found less of a bother . . .

I believe in chances as they didn’t,

Those chances are you,

Make them,

Please . . .

For all the things I’ve done,

Make only sense for them not to die.

Having the bodies scatter the ground,

And show no remorse to those,

Who wanted nothing more than insipidness . . .

They want a world of rubble,

All the people to act as mindless,

And disposable,

Like a zombie.

I already see that waving flag.

As my last exhale to you,

The game changers to this world,

I’m very glad you came,

Just in time . . .

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