Just Thinking

Are there any original thoughts left? I have heard debate on the subject of jokes and the prosecution says, ” all the jokes in the world have been told, just worded differently.” If that supposition is true then why do I laugh when one is told well? If Jokes are the mold that is followed as logic, then what I imagined would most likely be true. That being said I think I would dread a visit to a comedy store. But listen I do and laugh heartily too, when the story is righteously told. Does that quirk mean I am as dumb as I seem, for not remembering the punch line till it was delivered? Or can it be that the teller was better than the first time I had heard it? Given this analogy, I have come to the conclusion that this brain I am using, is good enough to see, that even if my conclusions are foregone illusions, and therefore confusions, they are still original to me!


Quiet rampages all through the house, all noise is snoring, even the dog. Twould not even matter if I heard a mouse, conditions are perfect to write in my blog! Over my shoulder there is noone to peer. telephones remain quiet, no ringing I hear,and it is time to write about all things I hear that well up from deep in my brain, no concern now but to print the refrain, that will purge my conciousness for the night, no need for me later to wake in a fright, from something left brewing in my thoughts overnight! The time seems fine now to put firmly on paper a situation I find abhorrent to say the least, and tonight is the night I will capture the beast! And render the thing down to the prehistoric bones that have haunted me since I found the crease; in time that released the thing, to haunt me I had thought till the end of my line! So, now to protect my progeny from the agony inherent to dealing with this creature that bends my mind to it’s will. Expose’ time is coming around as soon as I have napped. It has been a long day!

Elephant [Love that word} Elephant

Don’t we all just love to play with words? autonomous, blatant. elephant. An autonomous elephant blatantly charged the Jeep. crash, prisoner, night. That night the prisoner crashed the gate. Those sentences never crossed my mind until I saw those words. Temptation, rock, justifiable. The temptation to throw that rock might be justifiable if it was thrown at the elephant in order to allow the prisoner the autonomy to blatantly attempt escape in the jeep he crashed that night! Now let us review our sentence. We have used our words, or the base forms of them, [poetic license] and we have a fairly long sentence that kind of makes sense to the elephant, and the prisoner.( Though the elephant got angry, but should not have because the prisoner missed him with the rock,but that is elephant attitude for you.) The prisoner got caught cause he blatantly crashed the Jeep that night and justifiably the temptation to autonomously return to prison (sans Jeep)[ because remember the elephant was still angry]. (That is elephant for you) probably saved his life that night! Now there are plenty of words to post, so we push the “publish” icon, and someone will read it! I think.

A meaningless flight

Walking on shadows, one step at a time, shadows do not squeak, they do not squeal. If they are not seen, it is because there is no light, but always they lie just under the feet. Hearing or feeling, a useless endeavor, put down your tongue; they taste like dirt. Scary to some, pretty to others; I do not care, I tread on them. The scariest shadow cast on a wall, falls to the ground;somewhere. Walk on your shadows, it does not hurt their hue, but you cannot scrape them off the bottom of your shoe.


I think the ugly writers block finally slidĀ  out of my way. The attempt for now to leap into the foray. Words battling for their place in line, Ideas lying to get out of my mind. Poetic license shall set me free, and help empty my aching head of excess inventory. Not being responsible for what flows out of the bursting dam holding everything in, nothing is not fair game. Such a bold start and the flames already burn low. Maybe bursting, indeed was too large a word; used early in this rhetorical theme, and while the dull ache my head still holds, eases as the minutes go by. That block in my head still ain’t gone away, so from that fiery start, I’m just going to bed anyway.

Barnacles and seaweed

What do you do in the wee hours of the morn, when your eyes pop open as if the sun was just born? Like most folks ,I usually lie tossing in bed,But this night I tried writing instead.The treefrogs are shrilling their sibilant song, The new chicks in their box are wondering what is wrong. I put in my ear piece;listen to some old songs, They seem to remind me of where I went wrong. Then I think to myself”is there something in my life truly in disarray” Or am I expecting too much in my life today? The fog in my mind from the early morning hours, somehow straighten my thoughts into rows like the flowers, that will be planted soon, then perhaps past the winters gloom, I will more easily sleep throughout the night.