This blank piece of paper
In front of me
It annoys me so.
It can be anything.
A poem
A Story
An award winning novel
You never know.
When I look at it
I begin to frown
So I think
and I think.
And I write something down.
Category: Prose
Idiom
Life’ll go on
Time’ll pass
Someday….
My ass’ll be grass
Pleasure, Pain, Passion, and Prose
A plethora of poetry, a lot of alliteration, some danger, some droll, some dastardly and definitely… some devotedly, daring dreams. “The time has come, my little friends, to talk of other things; of shoes and ships, of sealing wax, of cabbages and kings. Of why the sea is boiling hot, and whether pigs have wings. Kālu, Kale, come run away, we’re cabbages and kings.” The time has come to piece together a part produced purely of prose; one of passion, of pain, of pleasures to be presumed… pleasures per chance to please the pang of perceptive paroxysm. A spasm of spirit, a jolt of juice, but a selfish desire can be like a noose. Asphyxiating my angels and ostracizing my advocates; making devils of dreams and demons of defenses. And so I say a sooth, per se, a soothing sonnet subtle and sweet a truth by trial or a chiding cheat? Riddle me this, oh Fiddler of Riddles, and fiddle me a riddle that will chiddle my gristle.