T-kun Unusual Wordsmith III

Ever feel for a drink,

A nice cold one,

But you never know if that drink is going to . . .

Make or break your night?

And the result is the need for a painkiller,

To heal up that mistake of a drink,

And have something better.

There is one review aim for just that,

To kill the pain and give reward . . .

Ironic his would be Painkiller,

Poetic justice that’s what it is.

His work relies more than just sight in other cases,

But taste,

Smell,

And most of all . . .

Kick.

That kick knows if that beer is made for buds of the mouth,

Out of all,

His has been through the most,

Having tasted and savor the best,

And gag and dump the worst.

A witty man only looking for the perfect drink,

It’s a mission for him,

Even so,

Have even lackeys to taste the even worsted kinds,

Don’t pity them,

Encourage them to finding that one drink.

As they find those snifters as their liquid gold,

Fountain a Youth if you ask a fan or two,

The question of the nonsense love nip . . .

You may call this out of heartening to drink,

Not true,

It’s always an option to drink or not,

Just be smart about it.

Drink for the enjoyment of it,

The flavors rolling around,

Different styles,

In reasonable intake,

For that intake should be taken in well matter.

Drink smart,

Drink carefully,

Drink to enjoy not despair,

And listen to Painkiller,

He’ll make drinking all the wiser.

Even to others it might not come off as it,

I see it that way,

Raise a glass for him,

He making drinking history,

One bottle at a time!

There are some things that should never be bothered with,

Name a few things off the top of your head,

What you or others find taboo . . .

And end up never speaking of it.

But there are some taboos that just don’t make senses,

One in mind,

Is that of the many religions that float around,

The world . . .

Its mind numbing of how something as that,

Break humans apart from one another,

Families’ divided,

Minds warp into seeing world of nothing . . .

But vice black and fine white . . .

Human nature is set on the sidelines,

The emotions that make us different,

Casted away,

For the taboos are given . . .

I’ll say it now,

There are taboos that are fine,

I see nothing wrong with them.

It may lie that there isn’t any over thinking,

It’s just a simple,

Yes or no,

Right or wrong,

Rule or living,

Kill or be killed . . .

Having the grays stand little for nothing,

But choice!

There is no higher power on that matter,

Of defining your being,

Only if you over think it,

If you see it as a yes or no choice,

That’s gray,

That’s human,

Error of it all,

Far from religious conviction perfection!

Words made from a far long ago voice or voices,

Unknown to the source,

But tall false fables passed down,

Twisting and confiding,

Leaving the act against it,

To delineate it of error!

Matters of error as to,

If anyone else thinks the same,

Or not,

This just one voice going against an army of abundant . . .

That something from a book,

A scroll,

Hieroglyphics,

A language lost forever in time,

Shouldn’t be taken overblown . . .

Take it away from all else that has followed it,

All that grim history because of errors seen,

Not done,

And reverse it.

No hands are clear from the stains,

Of iron scarlet tint blood,

Forever there,

Be it your hands or others,

Those stains follow,

Because of the tartest past,

Conflicting present,

And the forever unknowing future,

What is believe is there,

For its nonsense taboos,

Alone they’ll be.

We can be fighters for change,

Let it play out for the best,

Pick a side and hope for the best,

Or partake in all,

For the stains are on your hands lack of any matters what . . .

With that,

I’ll let you think,

On what matters,

Be mad or not,

Agree or don’t,

Error is human,

And that’s all it is to me.

There is not much I can say about this man,

Other than THAT he’s awesome,

At his art!

He’s just someone who takes,

The bull by the horns,

And make it his bitch,

No matter the LONG trails he goes through,

He takes as a cat strut and lives it up.

The critique he gives,

Is as many as strands of HAIRED on someone’s or many heads,

The number is never right but filled with,

Continual and realistic,

Words that leave his mouth!

Other may call him many things,

But to me,

What others see as CREEPY . . .

I see lovable as he’s close to human by far,

Then what I have seen thus in other lands,

May he stay that way for years to come!

Even if I am boasting about one GUY,

Who could anyone that fits this,

The one within my mind,

Is who I see as a friend . . .

Who is honest . . .

And has an evil,

Adorable,

Chibi unholy-god that will end you if harm comes,

To one of many who try to live in this injustice world!

In the composes of saying yes,

Issues of saying its bitter brother,

Is another tale to tell to the fellow ears,

As there is much to know on this little empty word!

Just as yes is something that is hard to say,

Saying no is much easier.

Why?

Because than is nothing to prove after saying it,

Nothing to compare or living up to it,

It’s just a no.

So many could say it and not care,

But they do,

In matters of reputation,

That could leave in a blink of an eye,

For all the work earned up ‘til now.

Let’s be kind of about this,

And call out on it,

For that matters of being human,

Is just nature working . . .

As stupid that is,

It’s someone true,

Basing on the person who would say no,

And not yes.

For their scared of losing something,

Be it meaningful or less,

It’s all on fear,

That if saying yes is a game on chance,

To take everything away,

And no keeps it all in place.

On habit,

People will say no,

Because of competition of yes,

Is dangerous . . .

Again,

It sounds dumb to say it,

But think about it,

Even for a moment,

If you were able to ask something,

Anything to a family member,

Friend,

Random stranger at a coffee shop,

And they say.

Notice the tone and contact of it.

Is the tone airy light and hard to hear?

And they move away?

Is it short and blunt?

Like it’s a subject to never bring up again?

Do they not even speak and motion the shoulders,

As,

Their answer is in signs of rejection?

Does the word no come in matter different uses,

To hopefully the other understands,

That the other never tried to test the limits,

And even bothered?

Could it be that there is laughter,

In matters that the question was pointless,

In the signs of being almost human?

No is a simple word,

Because of all the hidden truth of it,

As that yes,

Is the enemy!

Word of play on that is,

Yes and no.

Yes means trying and going passed what can be done and being ready for the future.

No means lack of trying and staying the same for whatever the future holds.

No,

The safety net,

From getting hurt.

It’s time for to change.

What does a mirror hold?

Where does one mind go to?

Do the eyes only look skin deep?

Or farther beyond the looking glass?

Some only go as far making a change on oneself,

Some go on changing others.

The mind focuses on looks,

The heart focuses on life,

The eyes glance on the matters,

The legs decide the way of doing it.

Desire of looking better or doing better,

Is one vain matter!

Desire on making change and seeing it through,

Is a hospitable challenge!

So when the words,

Mirror oh mirror . . .

The question after,

Defines you,

And your outlook on the world!

Believe it or not,

That’s just how it is,

And the reason things take the longest,

To forever count of change!

Be vain and let others see only you!

Be helpful makes something of you!

Be confuse on what’s right and wrong,

And carry on,

Because it seems those who are seen,

As the dumb,

The pointless,

Waste of space,

Seem to be doing something right!

Mirror oh mirror,

In this hideous being,

Will this equal of a dreadful world,

Come to answer,

Or forever lost?

An answer of any kind is welcome,

Than the answers already left behind,

By those who only go skin deep,

And leave the rest alone.

Mirror oh mirror,

Please!

Do I really need to say it?

To someone who has made one of many,

Marks in life and have them,

Worth it all of childhood . . .

Simple as this,

The new shines of Disney and it holds,

Can’t compare to this fan!

He makes it worth it all.

In childhood,

For young and old of the heart!

It means everything for the hard work,

This guy does,

For a land of dreams not many could come up with,

And have more so than one,

Remember of the times,

Of recalling the Magical Place on Earth!

Oh from time to time,

He’ll step of his realm and join others,

But oh no. . .

Disney is his world.

Flaws of it all,

And what makes so many go back for more,

Even,

When at the glum of lowest moments of magic . . .

He’s able to climb out of it,

Leave the signs of chances,

Insight,

Imagination,

And it’s endless laughter and tears.

He’s Moviefan12,

The golden baby empathy of Disney,

That just brings out the best,

Of why I love that world,

And want to get back on its feet.

He knows what his mind can do,

And goes for it,

Along with his childhood spirit and wonder fill eyes,

Makes you want to see,

Disney can get better,

Even at its worst.

If he can do it,

Why not all the rest?

He’s made this far in life,

And may he keep going,

Being the other part of childhood . . .

One that we the watchers and readers,

Can be part of,

When others might shut us out . . .

Just look to the second star to right,

And straight on ‘til morning!

For that’s how I think he plans his work,

And knows how to struck us in the mind,

By showing he cares of childhood,

Young and old!

With Rapunzel as his second-in-command,

Careful,

She’s a got a frying pan and not afraid to use.

My word of intake,

Listen with open ears and heart,

And be ready to duck . . .

Just in case.

Trading

It’s not something a child wants to do.
But in times,
A parent becomes weak,
And needs to step down,
Before mistakes are made.
Leaving maybe the most unlikely person,
To end up becoming the adult of the house . . .
Yet,
I can come to myself to hate it.
As she kept running forward to get away from it all,
Tagging me along for the ride,
Cause it would be fun.
In some ways it was,
And in others,
Not.
But she needs it,
A hand to hold that won’t judge her.
And if it happens,
It matters and comes in snarky jokes.
Trading roles feels weird,
But it has become a role,
I can’t seem to walk away from,
Because that would mean,
I have given up on her.
That has yet to happen.
She’s trying and getting back on her feet.
Making something of herself and being . . .
Happy!
Fun!
Full of life!
Because she wants to be,
Even if the choices don’t add close to it,
It’s hers to make,
And mine to make sure stays under control,
From a far,
Just far enough to slap her out of it,
But enough space to breathe and come back.
And take back her role,
That I have made sure,
It hasn’t been stain.
It’s a matter many wouldn’t bother doing,
For it’s not their problem,
And walk away.
I would walk away,
Many times,
But only because I’m not thinking straight,
And less likely to be helpful for her!
I can’t do it!
Trading roles,
Hurts in many ways,
Heals in many ways,
And you just deal.
Because this someone who once,
Wanting another to get somewhere,
It’s time give it back.
Even if,
All else fails,
We both did what we could.
Win or lose.
I still have her,
And back.
That’s all that matters.
At least to me.

It started as rumors, that it was something all of the imagination of mindless fables, made by those of scared of the unknown and the uncontrolled. Yet, it happened, slowly but surely it happened.

All what was the world known as the earth has become that as an alien’s land. Rocky, sandy, and endless trails of lands going high ends to know where, as ruins of homage lay wasted about. Buildings nothing but tilting towers; forest and waters dried and cracking from the nuked heat; fading shadows of bodies haunt the land, as the nimble feet walk on, as if nothing as happen.

Skies show anything but promising outcomes, blacken smog bleeds into the once blue and white sky, with hails of chemicals spread; thinning the air.

Wrecked this land has become, forgotten for pointless profits; flimsy fears; emotionless recollections of something that was never to come. One lone man seen it all, care little of how anything he would say, would change anything, but in a way, tried. In many ways to reach out and break others from the chains of hopelessness and nightmares, few understood, but many fought against the free thinking of this.

Eyes swelled in pity he became, in something overnight.

As the man, sat hunched over in his chair, hands covering the disappointment that marked his face, with white noise and alternating evaporation glows of his television, breaking the last news of all the truth, busted lamp hanged over him, as his lone companion in all this.

For that, who he thought were close, fell hard for the lies and never returned.

Counting quietly and eternally to the silence, eyes needing little to know what was before him, and what was not.

The man’s house nothing but rubble and ash around him, along with the lone grave of a large boulder, lay in rest all of his past for the sake of the future to never touch it. A sudden shake awoke him from his dazed state, shoulders slumping backwards to crane his head up to the face a distance blast.

Face still etched with disappointment, as when seeing the last bit of humanity gone by that fiery radiance of heated ruby, carroty, fair, and pallid gush of death, hated, greed, loveless, animalism of man’s last strike to earn back, wasted by a lazy and brainless thoughts that were never through.

In matter of minutes, that blast wills soon reach the man, with a heavy sigh, leaned into his seat, eyes closed. And; if not soon enough, waited to join the rest and maybe the earth will rewind what needs fixing and have the new life more ready than them.

All that was needed was limitless thoughts of doing it right.

The Alien Landscape by Gerald Scarfe

Made in the year; unknown

Location of when painted; unknown

Everyone has a view on something,

And will stay by it,

Not once of thinking of a second voice to hear.

That is where I find others wrong,

Another voice should always be welcome.

An instant estimation of something,

To at least shine some light,

On something that leaves many a bad chill.

Second Opinion is not only words to use,

To hear,

And to listen,

But a name that means well in giving,

Something a shine to it . . .

He judges just as another else,

But for the better,

As he wants more than a yes or no,

On something that can go much farther,

Into detail no less.

Be them classics or today’s wow,

He has this attitude,

That makes hard not ignore it.

As he finds good in bad,

And bad in good,

Even it out,

For that it comes to understanding,

That not everything is made for someone!

Just as something of cult or mainstream,

He finds what makes them different,

Unique,

And if it’s forgettable or not . . .

He’s the second voice,

Second say when other doubt,

Following moment of trust . . .

He’s the Second Opinion,

Who . . .

Just wants others to understand,

There is more than bad or good.

He’s a big brother to some,

A joker to others,

A man who goes far deeper into ideas . . .

Than no other I know.

He’s someone who wants to look farther,

For he sees everything as an Easter hunt,

With sound facts,

And his endless and boundless mindset,

That is Ratin8or.

For whatever he does in matters of what lies,

At the end of his fingertips,

Once more,

It’s boundless.

Another boundless,

Is his name . . .

As to that not many can say it right,

Nor am I say I can too.

But it adds to the charm,

That is Ratin8or,

Even if others can’t see it,

In the mazes of his deep thoughts,

He shares with others.

With matters of saying,

There can be mindless satisfaction,

He’ll prove you all wrong.

Ratin8or goes so deep,

The chances of getting out,

Are unlikely,

But really,

Would you after finding out,

The secret amusing of it.

Time had fallen shortly and unknowingly to what has come, with the past as ever the same, and the future unsure to come neither right nor wrong. It plays nothing to what is the now and forever more the akin to nothing but all.

Kate sat still on her chair, spinning it from left to right, eyes leveling with her clock and to the door left ajar. With bickering echoing through the halls, voices mixing together, in one form of a haze of hissing white noise. Still, the noise only grew in volumes is passing time.

With a heavy sigh, she stayed where she was, not daring to move, unless fearing they would hear.

Once more to the neon green lit color clock, slowly ticked away, with alas the shouting never stopped.

“Katy, sweetie, can I come in?”

She looked to the door, within the jarring opening, her mother there, smiling at her, hand steadily at the handle to open it more.

“Sure.”

A light creak was given with the door was pushed open, soon shutting it enough with a soft click.

“You need something, mom?”

“No . . .” Her reply came short and light, as Kate’s mother took a moment to look around the room, with again that same caring smile, it alone block the shouting still coming from halls away. Once; she sat down on the half-made bed, looked to Kate once more, before speaking. “They should be done soon, I was thinking of going for a drive, want to tag along?”

Kate gave a nod, standing up from her chair and over to her closet, finding a pair a sneakers and spare supporter. Slipping them on, in time grabbing for mother’s hand, this, with that time was already at the door, waiting for her.

Carefully they walked past the family room, where the noises came from.

Kate only dared her young eyes to see the two remaining adults go at one another, a losing battle it was becoming for one, and maybe both. Her father coming to wits ends, as he leaned forward in his seat, hands over his eyes, body shivering to keep tears at bay.

The woman going on, having a fit to no end, eyes on the man, not taking in mind of others eyes on them, on and on, she went, face red with anger and sorrow.

“Daddy . . .”

That tiny voice put a silence to the room, in time her mother spoke up to fill it.

“I’m taking Kate for drive, okay?”

The father looks up, happily to hear those words, in responding.

“Yes, go ahead, we’re almost done here.”

The other woman not content with that choice, but made no word to fight it.

Once the door to the front of the house closed, the shouting resume as it always did.

With little help, Kate was in the car, strap in, her supporter placed near her in the back seat. Once her mother was in, starting it up and off down the road they went.

“So, have an idea or two, about what we should do?” Her mother asked, smiling as she peaked at the review mirror to see Kate looking out the window, the same as she was in her room.

A little pause was given, before she asked again.

“Don’t force yourself, mommy, it wasn’t your fault. She just is saying things to hurt you and daddy.”

An airy sigh of a laugh was heard.

“At least someone is being the bigger person here.”

Kate only glance once to her mother’s eyes wetting a bit, from truth most likely, but made voice to call out on it, as this was just her mother handling things, just as Kate was doing so. Along with her father, who was taking most of the weight that he wouldn’t want others to bear.

When coming to stop light, a corner store was in sight, it seems as a good starter if anything else.

Once parked near the sidewalk, Kate’s mother bag in hand, and Kate all set up, they went in.

Her mother spoke quickly to her, that she could look around on her own, within sight, while she chat with the cashier, an old friend of the family.

When seeing Kate was busying herself, her mother and friend talked.

“Here again, Bonnie, that witch still can’t take a hint?”

“Hush you. What she does is own feel will. Even if I can’t stand it, but, if Will puts up with it, so can I.”

The cashier gave a nod in understanding, glancing ways to where Kate was; eyes sadden at the sight.

“How’s the little tike holding up?”

“It’s been a year and she goes on as if nothing is wrong. But, again, she just is going to do it, not to worry me or her father.”

“Or that witch.”

“Her as well . . . but again, she comes all huff and buff, after the year, and is at it again.”

“People, like her, are some of the most hardest to understand. And if I may?”

“Go on?”

“What if Kate does with her, just to stop the fight, than what?”

“She’s young, Chris, even to a child, stopping a fight is stopping a fight. But if she does want to, and not to help out . . . that’s own choice. Will and I both know that.”

“Maybe in time, all the reasons needed, come in occasion?”

“I hope so.”

“Mommy . . . looks what I found?”

The two looked to where Kate was, upon finding some of kid sets of sports items. A hat placed on her head, bat on her left and a used-leather mitten fitting well on her right hand.

“Find some things you like?”

“Yeah: maybe when daddy’s fear, he’ll show how to play, huh, Ma?”

Cashier gave a huff a laugh.

“Will . . . in sports, that’s something I like to see, should give him a run for his money really.”

Kate sticks a bit of tongue out to the cashier in good humor, which was returned.

Kate’s mother looking to her watch for the time, quite shock of the time, stating of how much time went with just chatting, with that got Kate to bring the items up and have them ringed and priced.

Soon the two bid the cashier a good day and night. In quick return and always welcomed back.

On the ride back, that heavy weight before, was much lighter and easy to brush off.

“Mom . . .”

“Yes?” She asked, quickly glancing at her review mirror.

“No matter what, I love you and daddy.”

“Us too, honey, us too.”

“Hey mom, I need to ask you something!” A shout came from upstairs, having the said person to look to where the voice came from at the head of the stairs.

“What is it?”

“I am going to meet up with Park and her brothers for a while. I’ll be eating with them okay?”

“Alright, just call when it’s after dinner of when you’re coming home.”

“Okay! Thanks!”

Meanwhile in Kate’s room, twisting the phone corded, listened to the other end.

“Okay, I am in the clear.”

“Good. See you in a bit and remember. Be careful on the way here, you never know.”

“It’s like you don’t know me at all.” She said with a smirk.

“That is far from the truth. Later.”

The End . . . ?

The town was lively. People moving around as ants from here to there. Traffic was luckily light compare to the sidewalks. The happenings of one getting their feet step on and others not knowing, a fair chance within a sea of people.

 

Kate took notice of it all, relaxing on a bench by a bus stop sign, a strain on her when working on tired leg joints. Stretching her left leg as best she could, as the rough cotton strap rubbed her upper knee cap raw. Kate hand her cooled, autumn chilled, hand over the red-tinted skin, letting a small hiss leave her lips. Her eyes wandered near where a large pothole was, her eyes glared at it.

 

“Hijo de una vaca de cerebro metal de cuero . . .” Kate mutter to herself, tending her light burn.

 

She refined the straps, fixing her shoe as it almost came off from her little non-fun trip, panting down her clothes that ended up a bit ruffled from her little episode. Once it was all settled, she steadily stood up from the bench, testing her leg, taking no mind of any onlookers, and soon took off down street when the lights changed, just in time before a car came zooming down.

 

Reaching to the other side of the street, lucky enough with less people, and went on heading south end of the sidewalk. Eyes passing and glancing around her. Unknowing she ended up at old, but all optimistically treasured.

 

Upon finding the very tree, Kate would always somehow managed to climb and very likely get stuck in. Kate raked her hand on a side of tree, removing a good amount of moss from, finding some etched still there, faded, but readable.

 

To that alone, she gave a smile. Soon it fell and she walked away, heading over a swing that was newly install on the tree, around the other side of it. Tempted, Kate gave it a try. Along with two, breathing and swinging entwined, as Kate looked around the park.

 

So many thoughts wandered through her mind, as it had been awhile, noticing a lot or nothing really changed. But remain as to another different question, does that also go for people as well, or not?

 

With a grumpy groan, quickly got to her feet on the swings seat, hearing the hinges cranked to the weight, and grow louder as she swung a little faster, enough to get away from the ground. As it swung, Kate calmed herself, before finally jumping off during a mid-swing, landing hard her feet, bending her knees to where they almost touched the ground, the back arching to keep from topping over.

 

Kate looked over her shoulder, a small smile on her lips.

 

“Haven’t lost my touch, yet.” Proudly and smugly the came and went, before the tone changed a little lighter. “Guess it’s time to find o’ Slopes.”

 

With that left the park, with more of a spring in her step, ready for the coming terms of things.

 

Less she thought of being running into that is.

 

“Hey, what where you . . .”

 

“Kate?”

 

Kate’s mini rant came to a stop, when getting off the ground and facing up to see who ran into her, her eyes widen with surprise.

 

“Alan, wow you got taller?”

 

Alan gave bit a of frown before saying. “What? Are you saying I was short before?”

 

An arched brow was his only answer.

 

“When did you get back?” Alan asked, about to help her, but Kate stopped him from doing so.

 

“About a week back. Finally, um, decided to see the sun for once, you know?”

 

Now it was his turn to give the look of not believing a word the other said.

 

“Right . . .”

 

A short silence filled between them, before Kate broke it.

 

“Why are you such a hurry?”

 

“Doing some things, needed to stop by the library because Park’s there, doing some kind of project for school or something. But I’m going there to return some books.” He said, shortly pointing his backpack, before thumbing off to another location. “Want to tag along. Catch up for real this time?”

 

She gave a shrugged, knowing fully well of the hidden words he was really asking, but made no reply to shake the truth out of him. Only asking him to lead the way.

 

As they went on to the library, both filled in each other of number of things that happen while Kate was gone and what she has been doing.

 

“You really thinking of going through with it?”

 

“Maybe not, I don’t this thing all that much, but who knows. I’m just living now.”

 

Alan gave a nod to that.

 

“And you?” Kate asked, pointing to a side of her face in mirror of his own.

 

“Long story. Short vision: things didn’t go well, I needed help, got it, and live happy around with people who show they like me.” Alan answered, running a hand on the side of his face where Kate was pointing at.

 

“Zam hasn’t changed though.”

 

“Nope.”

 

“Some hope in this world then.” Kate stated, glad to have change the subject with less tension in the air.

 

Alan gave nodded to the truth of that, upon seeing they had reached library, in time seeing it was closing.

 

“A bit early . . .” Alan wondered, before rushing ahead to the person locking up the doors, shouting to the man. “Excuse me, why is the library closing now? It’s not Sunday?”

 

The person looked over his shoulder to the boy behind.

 

“Holiday.”

 

“Okay, was there anyone here, before?”

 

“Son, it’s been empty sense five, drop your books at the cubby and go home.” The man said with much firmer voice, before heading down the stairs that headed to the parking lot.

 

“Well that was rude.” Kate said, eyeing the man as he walked off, just in time, before Kate was any closer.

 

Alan gave a shrug, walking over to a cubby draw was, letting the books slide in. A face of uncertainness formed as Alan kept thinking. Glancing over to the parking lot. Soon to the sky.

 

“It’s getting late. In the morning could you come over at the Monskey’s house?”

 

“Any reason?”

 

“Yes and no, but please come, anyway.”

 

“Mind games, really?”

 

Alan gave a weak smile when he knew he was caught and said. “What it used to work when we were little.”

 

“I’ll see you there. Something about the guy bothering you?” Kate asked, when seeing the look Alan had when he turned to face her.

 

He just gave a nod, waved and headed on the path home. Kate did the same. Both unknowing picked their speed up when hearing the sound an engine of a car starting, as it echoed into the twilight tone air.

 

The End . . . ?

 

—-Side Note—-

~Translation~

Hijo de una vaca de cerebro metal de cuero . . . =  Son of an rawhide metal brain cow . . .