In Secure Certainty

In the middle of the ravine lies a lacklustre inspector fluctuating with misery around
The unattainable finer things in life. 
She extends her capacities for perception
To the ambiguous cloud accepting with certainty
That there is no need for attachment: lingering in an insatiably restless dichotomy.
The cloud is visible only,
No other sense detects it; so she holds her gaze strong and unrelenting.
What will she do next?
Perhaps she will follow the logic and see the cosmos;
Or maybe she'll hear a tree fall, shut her eyes, and laugh.

Have a Listen

Here's another song that I made: A Little Smackerel of Something


Feel free to tell me what you think.

Turn your brain to mush, or scatter it all over the ceiling; either will do.

I'm not totally completely of a specifically defined previously ordained assumed conclusion that there's a real definite final answer to it all.  Well, alright; like there's the blue green algae, right?  Yeah so like and then monkeys and maybe a touch of zebra shredding the pencil shaped porcupine, with total consideration for the subtle repercussions, of course!  So there I was minding my own business when SQUIRREL

Okay, there I was thinking about the hurricane season looming over the horizon when i got the sudden urge to move.  Well, it was more of a shift, actually; because I had to truly manifest each moment of the process.  First I considered my motions to the micrometre, which would entail very minute shifts in motion, nudges really.  Nudges nonetheless, kneading my joints which tamed my restless leg syndrome.  Quite thoughtful, now that I look back on it.

It's IMPORTANT to change the emPHAsis and pace of the piece of writing, otherwise it gets quite terribly filled with treacherous unnecessary and inexcusable things not totally not resembling stuff similar to, synonymous even, long-winded drivelous.  PLATITUDES not so as to be unproperly conveyered with grandmare unequivocally horribly.  Executed to a similar extent to not withdraw a silly little whatsit, oh yes.  A Pendulum crossing a bridge is probably the best way to describe this.


Like sawing on a cello, one could imagine face rolling on a keyboard; for that spirit derives and elicits an imagination that is required but not really because you shouldn't worry too much about not having it SORRY.  for not finishing the thought previous in a familiar and clear cut fashion, because it means nothing unless you already understan the man has a plan his tan is a sham, he uses clam juices mixed with a shredded ram, or a lamb; as long as it's young and callously disregarded.

It's the best kind, really.

RORIKSTEAD RORIKSTEAD RORIKSTEAD sovngarde.

A Limerick

The carefully planned conjurations,
are said to evoke total elations;
however, in reality
with results most ghastly,
oft cause horrid vomiting sensations.

Ultimately (p)an Ultimate

Very straightforward, confidently ahead;
discovering on tour.  Onward,
on the trail prolonged;

but beware the periphery bears!
With gesticulating arm swings, you stroll off with lip to ear smiles.

The soft casual eyes blur the corners well enough, 
so no one else need help;
it goes on.

Though based on itself,
The comparable comparison elicits the ever changing framework of life unstyled.

A Communal Stupor

Look
at the ponderous whispering sailor stippling the bar counter
with the tip tap of his cigarette butt. 

He zero's in on the scaly floor;
yet wavers his gaze around the liquor shelves;
a contraception to pin-point perfection,
I suppose.  We see him there,
yes, on his stool, duly invisible; yet still, something peculiar lingers about him and crosses our minds.

Together, we
shall discern this fellow's introspection.  We enact the ponderous paramour,
who masks as an empathetic prospector,
inspecting with care and due attention
so as not to alarm the integral mind's eyelid of our valorous
intrusion. 
A transposition:
from a supple spark of a flint
flaunting eruption,
to the embers melting a tunnel between minds;
between comrades. 

A great combustion can empower many;
for reactants leave behind products that rest over time,
just waiting to be excavated. 

However, one can excavate
only that which they can see.  So when this one stares at the sun and
sees everything;
we must take from him what we can
and run,
before he goes blind.

An Early Morning Muse

An artist sits down to pondering existential
In a top notch creative wandering providential.
But while caffeinated in consternation
She broods in digressive twitternation
Finding her resume to lack the consequential.

Hey Look! A Thing I Did.

I have started a Soundcloud account, on which I will be posting some of my music.

Here is the link to my Soundcloud profile.