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.

A Bunch of Stuff Today (Stream of Consciousness)

Well, here we are again, another nail in the 2 by 4 that I call my self expressive mind.  You'd better start running now.  NOT THAT I'M SELF CONSCIOUS.

We all carry a weight on our shoulders, conceptually, we understand this; I'm not the only one with money issues.  Somehow it's rude to draw attention to your financial problems, because you're immediately seen as disregarding other people's problems.  How selfish!

All of the sudden, we realise just how taboo our individuality is.  We feel the need to label ourselves.  Do we do it out of ennui and/or disgust at our individuality?  Perhaps in our lonely society, we strive for a common social connection.  By "being" gay, straight, religious, or liberal, etc. we're sacrificing our individuality in order to relate to the community.  Which isn't necessarily a bad thing; however, when our labels confine our individual expression to that which is socially acceptable, we limit ourselves drastically, and our individuality becomes quaint and unnecessary   Heck, even a bit scary.


It's stream of consciousness.

So there I was, briskly marching ahead of the pack, leader's my middle name.  They'd look up at me IN AWE, they would even name their children after me.

Yes yes, I'm introverted, and I don't tend to take the lead on things unless I know exactly what I'm doing.  The above paragraph was obviously sarcasm, I'm hilarious.  Wasn't sure if you knew that about me.  I make jokes, they come easy to me.  I go about my day to day life; standing up, sitting down, walking here, walking there.  And that's just the beginning.
"Golly" he said unironically, "wait'll you hear what happens next!".

They were tranced in flabbergasted bafflement.  None survived.

The rabbit floated on still water with broken wings guiding the way home towards the music.

He slept, fully aware of what happened the day after tomorrow.  Grinning, he chucked the beaver into the river, "GIT BACK 'O 'ERE 'OU CAME FRUM!" he exclaimed, privy to nothing but his singular path.  Jovial inside, he saw the reason in it all, even when she let him go.  It's no wonder the Sun still rises, and dinosaurs don't exist anymore.  Points make lines, and lines make cubes; linear motion is still a representation of the abstract, lest we forget.
All inhibitors inhibit.  All walls block, and all barriers stop...
"Some people are simple, some people are complex", only two kinds of people, eh?  Hmm.


Segue goes here, how about some all encompassing poem, yeah.  About flowers, they're nice; pansies are edible.  Stick your tongue out, catch a snow flake, whoopy doo.  Any-who, something to do, don't know, what about you?  ADEQUATE.


Wearing his job on his mind, he could no longer see his face two steps ahead.  Forcibly confined to the present, it seems.  Two roads to follow, one happily sequestered in escapism, and the other mishmashed with the other badgers underneath the grounded bolt of lightning as it strikes the new bridge on 57th.

Randomness is what exists right now, look any further than that and you get into some pretty confusing shit.  Either imagine an existence for yourself, or try to understand it all to the point where the confusing shit just doesn't seem so confusing anymore.  Neither is good nor bad, just don't do either if you're trying to get somewhere specific.


Eventually this will all seem like "a lifetime ago".  I had a good life!  Yes, surely worth the use of one of those fine meat bags that are so hard to come by.  The 50's were some of the best years of my life, gosh.  When we were younger...able to get around; we're getting old, you know.  Anyways, we used to drive through the mountains, spotting the eagles perched on the tops of trees.  I remember this one trip; oh, I don't remember where we were driving, up in Washington I think.  Anyways.  It was late November, and the snow was falling, it was beautiful.  So we pulled over, it fell slowly and softly...
How do I stop my life from turning into a story?  As if I imagined the whole thing.