I've heard I have a way with words,
the way my verbs reverberate through the core,
twisting round curves with an allure,
seducing hips to swerve with such verve at the thoughts of, my words
My adjectives substantively descriptive and addictive
not the least bit derisive, sufficient to paint a picture
of every stroke of tongue in cheek, alive in your mind
sending shivers down the spine, visualizing the literal manifestation of, my words
Nouns profound sometimes a bit dumbfound,
unsure of when, where and how this unsuspecting bloke
had beguiled you with his sound, a verbalisation of thoughts
stringing of letters to become, my words
I have of late taken the view that no matter how rebellious, unconventional, non-conformist we would like to think ourselves, we are at some point always part of a similar grouping of people. We are never truly leaders, but followers. Followers, I prefer to refer to us as sheep; because at one point or another in our life we are all sheep. This is a place to express myself, vent my frustration with the sheepdom, and relieve my boredom. It is my therapy for all that contributes to my neurosis.
Friday, November 26, 2010
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