Intro
Dead serious. I sing, dance, and act. Sometimes all at the same time, but usually separately. In addition, I write often and enjoy writing and listening to music. Don't judge. Expect a whole lot of random if you approach me, and I encourage you to. While you are here, I'll give you a daily dose of "Random Journals", as I call them. Read and enjoy!
Have a lovely day, everyone!
Blog:
Love, Life, Happiness, and PineapplesP.s. Everything on here is written by me, so support my efforts in the Arena if you approve
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Words and Their Purposes
Worthwhile gestures,
Simple thoughts.
Painless nods,
Brutal shots.
A meeting,
greeting,
hopeful
friend.
Found and conquered,
bend or
mend.
Sparks and triggers,
fights and dust.
Imperceptible,
but what a fuss.
Slam, Click
There it is again! Endless, boisterous nothing. It is a taunt, this incessant din of nothing, toying with and teasing me with the sensation of absolutely nothing. I would think that I were deaf but for the slam and click that always precedes the droning silence. This is a mystery as well. I can only assume that the slam and click are involved in turning on the outrageous silence machine. If the pounding silence was the result of a machine, that would explain why the hum of nothing does not follow me. It only awakens when I am home. When I arrive home, the silence immediately kicks in to high gear. When I finally cannot stand the ringing, echoing, mind-numbing, humming silence any longer, I leave and clear my head. But the moment I close the door behind me…
Complete Ridiculous Nonsense
Mr.Vermillion sat outside his favorite little cafe. He sips his tea with his pinkies up, being careful not to burn his tongue, or worse, dampen his brilliant moustache with herbal tea. Out of the corner of his eye, a grand Victorian bicycle rolls by on the one way street before him. In Mr.Vermillion’s part of town, this would not be unusual were it not for the direction in which the bicycle was rolling. Barreling backwards, in the direction of traffic, a man with a five foot tall top hat rides this brilliant bicycle. Following him is an exuberant rhinoceros donning a bright green bowler hat. “Curious” thought Mr.Vermillion pondering the strange facade in front of him. “I did not think Christmas was for another two months.”
Thought Process
False sense of security. Expected seclusion, unexpected results. A one-way mirror, standing tall. Scratch that. A huge, vaulted one-way mirror all around you. Then again it just looks like a wall to you. Rows and rows of seats teeter with an eager audience teetering on the edge of their teetering seats. Waiting, with stale breath, for what’s to come. You are blind to the commotion your every move makes. One person heckled above the murmuring sea of attendees. His words bounce off the thin shell that surrounds your dwellings. As you make your next move, flashbulbs go off. Millions of fireflies now appear to be battering the suppressing cage. Silence now as you open a hard-wooden chest. The tension mounts as hands are thrust deep inside. You pull out your favorite socks. Cheers echo, not that you can hear.
Re: Brave New World
O’ brave new world,
With trees so tall,
And minds of stone.
Bare caverns of slate.
A creator bearing down,
With echoing words to elate.
Passion burns hopes
With a fallacious roar.
The fumes scar and choke.
Being told lies since birth,
The ants mill about blind.
An overseer stifles his mirth.
They stoop over miles of moving land,
These paths, the bind,
Struggle and fight, your fate is planned.
You press upon me, with soma,
Cover up for your faults.
I refuse your indulgent coma.
Shunned then suffocated,
Lies my asphyxiated mother.
Another dead by those who dictated;
Civilization is sterilization,
A gramme in time saves nine,
Civilization requires salvation,
And it is time for mine.
Cleanliness is next to Fordliness.
Sanity is next to logic.
God,
Lord,
Ford,
This is all too much for me.
