Okay, so this is a writing assignment I use to fend off writer's block. Usually the finished product may feel like just a piece for yourself, but plenty of ideas awaken from it.
The Inscriber's 6-sides of Madness
By: Uriah "The CivILLian" Walters
Writer's Block
Writer's Cube
The Inscriber's Cube
The Inscriber's 6-sides of Madness
Glued
Tattooed on a box vacuum
That expels the bad fumes
While strapped to
A detonation device
A suicidal vice
When recitals find plight
Seemingly detachable
But when you're so attached to
Catching a bad wrap, then the cycle only presents the worsening effects
The 6-sides then collide
Squigilly lines then digitally deprives
Absorbing analog vibes
It's more than a bumby ride on the lumpy side,
funny signs
Tell you run and hyde, breaking Humpty Dumpty's Hyde
The Inscriber's 6-sides of Madness
Are fashioned with complacency 'til gladness
Erasing display cases placing Ads-in
Commercial spots that blotch
Eye Sock-etts
Rock-ette Ettiquette
Dynamite Express
Check this and that
Then pencil the map
And instill the fact
That reveals the path
To millions of inhabitants
Whom have a habit
of backwards action
But too confused to have the forward happen
It's every side of Madness
For those too passive
Being consumed, too inactive
Boredom and passion
Forced to be fastened
Ordered by hazardous
Complacent activists
MAN!!!
These actualists to surrealism
Lack intuitives to reality with sure rhythm
Yet they sure hit 'em with a "so-called" pure vision
That epiphanizes, sympathizes struggled living
It's shuffling persistence
Muffles up the listners
The inscriber has subtle inquisitioning...conditioning...positioning
When the pen was no longer glistening
And the Inscriber was finishing
But tell me who's listening?
It's like...
If Affion Crocket told
A distasteful Non-Rocking Joke
With a Mistake of a bomb dropping quote
Being Displayed to the wrong audience of those
whom didn't appreciate...
like it were odd fradulence composed.
Monday, June 28, 2010
Friday, June 25, 2010
Indefinite Aim, Reason, or Pattern...
Untitled Aphorisms Yield the Quickest Results
By: Uriah "The CivILLian" Walters; The Escribe Adventurist
I have a quick theory that pertains to fast life lanes
I have a thick inquiry that contains last life fame
A curious engineering towards living in vein with a massive life dream.
A mind is a terrible thing to (waist)
It's not to be stomached in the feelings and emotions of the average brat that doesn't understand the social transit of parodizing fads and collecting ads.
If you knew that... you're eyes wouldn't regurgitate so many tears.
Your mouth wouldn't sob up a vehement behemoth of pain for replinishment
And your heart wouldn't cracker jack at a stain or smudge from the smug and feel slain.
A (mine) is a terrible thing to waste
You are to preserve your explosive approach to emotional happenings for another time.
Maybe a "funner" time when you run a line or two by that wonderful surprise.
But not while your life drama is like a marathon soap opera in only the 3rd scene of act 1... encore on standby.
Because strapping dynamite and blows for the ones who hurt you most means you lose... Because they knew how to handle you as a foe.
But if you throw them in joyous times as a nuclear warhead of confetti then those very same people you can see cry like you... Tears of joy are the tears you want to employ.
That's also how you make humanistic intrusions into the lives of your rude and twisted passersby.
iT'LL Twist them into a pretzal of special attention that wrestles their set tunes of living
while proposing an unorthodoxal pop that'll unlock their rock heads from the shackles that treated them as untended crops.
These theories come from a nonchalant silent confidante, and a lowkey homey O.G., and a laidback friend who used to want payback then...
By: Uriah "The CivILLian" Walters; The Escribe Adventurist
I have a quick theory that pertains to fast life lanes
I have a thick inquiry that contains last life fame
A curious engineering towards living in vein with a massive life dream.
A mind is a terrible thing to (waist)
It's not to be stomached in the feelings and emotions of the average brat that doesn't understand the social transit of parodizing fads and collecting ads.
If you knew that... you're eyes wouldn't regurgitate so many tears.
Your mouth wouldn't sob up a vehement behemoth of pain for replinishment
And your heart wouldn't cracker jack at a stain or smudge from the smug and feel slain.
A (mine) is a terrible thing to waste
You are to preserve your explosive approach to emotional happenings for another time.
Maybe a "funner" time when you run a line or two by that wonderful surprise.
But not while your life drama is like a marathon soap opera in only the 3rd scene of act 1... encore on standby.
Because strapping dynamite and blows for the ones who hurt you most means you lose... Because they knew how to handle you as a foe.
But if you throw them in joyous times as a nuclear warhead of confetti then those very same people you can see cry like you... Tears of joy are the tears you want to employ.
That's also how you make humanistic intrusions into the lives of your rude and twisted passersby.
iT'LL Twist them into a pretzal of special attention that wrestles their set tunes of living
while proposing an unorthodoxal pop that'll unlock their rock heads from the shackles that treated them as untended crops.
These theories come from a nonchalant silent confidante, and a lowkey homey O.G., and a laidback friend who used to want payback then...
The Explanation of The Reboot Series
Okay, as you all know, I’ve finished The Reboot series, so I felt now was a good time to shed some light on it a bit. Such as “what were my thoughts when writing the series” and “what’s the moral of these stories?”
Overall, my original idea was to make it sort of like I was purging the “complex” side of my writing so as to explore the natures of my somewhat abandoned “simple” side. It’s like I’m rebooting and starting anew with a fresh new state. So the idea that came to my head was to treat my complex side of writing like it were a drug that I’m addicted to, but I’m trying to quit. And the full 8 episodes are the misadventures of finding the sober mind of the simple side.
Ep. 1: The virus
The “P”-Virus Storm
The very beginning starts of with the consuming of a drug with the stressed complexity being Alliteration in caps. It’s like I’m trying to stop, but I can’t at this point. I’m feening too much…
Ep. 2: The Sickness
Inkblots of Terrorism
This is the sickness because a person’s body isn’t equipped to handle drugs as a pastime or for leisure, so the person is literally coming down with a sickness. I inserted in through the piece “Page 1” “Page 2” & “Page 3” to further show how the complexity is taking over. So that’s three pages of the complexity drug terrorizing the pages, thus it’s titled “Inkblots of Terrorism”.
Ep. 3: They say, We say
Word of Mouth (Gossip Circles)
I actually took a break from the protagonist with this one. This was the piece that had the gossipers and debaters telling their story about the protagonist and what had happened to him. Ofcourse you can see they’re way off, but it goes to show how folk love to peer into other folks business.
Ep. 4: Honesty Box Mishaps
Flyt to Ms. Anonymous
Lol, the Ms. Anonymous giving me criticism is actually a true story. As I was writing I thought “hmm… that’d make a great piece” so, she unknowingly did a piece with me :). How this fits into the piece is that I decide to make as though Ms. Anonymous was talking to the inebriated and intoxicated complex side. That side seems to send off sarcasm and insults that belittle folk, so she decided to give a piece of her mind. And since our main character is still lost to the effects of the complexity, he can’t take her seriously, and thus makes her into a joke.
Ep. 5: Worlds of Mellow Contemplation
Sanity
The effects of the drug are beginning to bug with our perception on this one, so in this one I took that sort of cliché effect of how I imagine pot heads to be hippies who lay back on the grass and talk about life while they’re high. So in this one, it’s on a mellow “Blue Room Session” level. If anyone may have noticed, I decided not to break the lines in this one and make them into paragraphs. I decided to do that to stay with the writing concepts. That’s the complexity talking.
Ep. 6: The Perversion of Thought
Crazed Logic
I decided to dabble even more into the mind with this one, and now you see our protagonist in an argument with the antagonist. But you gotta wonder “who is the antagonist” right? Well all in all, when your as high as the way the character was written, you’d see images and entities from your mind come to life. The Protagonist is talking to his conscience. And judging from the looks of it, he wins over his own conscience… or did the drug win them both over?
Ep. 7: Dissociative Breakage
Trippin’
This is the climax of the complex drug that our character has been wrestling with the entire time. I wrote the piece with it separated into different levels that go from 1 to 5. The higher the level, the more removed from reality he is. It’s a metaphor that shows how a person’s complexity can put them in a whole ‘nother world. And that translates to me by showing how I’ve been in my own world with my writing. Some say it’s with its own language.
Ep. 8: Recovery, Guilt & Discovery
Letter to the Consoling Consultant
Finally, the hangover moment. The drugs have vented out and our character is back in his right state of mind. The piece written is the only “simple” piece in the story. The one down to earth. It is filled with Recovery, Guilt & Discovery.
*******
And that’s the full analysis right there. Excuse its length. As you can see, a lot was going through my mind with this series. I’m proud of what came from it though. Hope you all enjoyed it as well.
Overall, my original idea was to make it sort of like I was purging the “complex” side of my writing so as to explore the natures of my somewhat abandoned “simple” side. It’s like I’m rebooting and starting anew with a fresh new state. So the idea that came to my head was to treat my complex side of writing like it were a drug that I’m addicted to, but I’m trying to quit. And the full 8 episodes are the misadventures of finding the sober mind of the simple side.
Ep. 1: The virus
The “P”-Virus Storm
The very beginning starts of with the consuming of a drug with the stressed complexity being Alliteration in caps. It’s like I’m trying to stop, but I can’t at this point. I’m feening too much…
Ep. 2: The Sickness
Inkblots of Terrorism
This is the sickness because a person’s body isn’t equipped to handle drugs as a pastime or for leisure, so the person is literally coming down with a sickness. I inserted in through the piece “Page 1” “Page 2” & “Page 3” to further show how the complexity is taking over. So that’s three pages of the complexity drug terrorizing the pages, thus it’s titled “Inkblots of Terrorism”.
Ep. 3: They say, We say
Word of Mouth (Gossip Circles)
I actually took a break from the protagonist with this one. This was the piece that had the gossipers and debaters telling their story about the protagonist and what had happened to him. Ofcourse you can see they’re way off, but it goes to show how folk love to peer into other folks business.
Ep. 4: Honesty Box Mishaps
Flyt to Ms. Anonymous
Lol, the Ms. Anonymous giving me criticism is actually a true story. As I was writing I thought “hmm… that’d make a great piece” so, she unknowingly did a piece with me :). How this fits into the piece is that I decide to make as though Ms. Anonymous was talking to the inebriated and intoxicated complex side. That side seems to send off sarcasm and insults that belittle folk, so she decided to give a piece of her mind. And since our main character is still lost to the effects of the complexity, he can’t take her seriously, and thus makes her into a joke.
Ep. 5: Worlds of Mellow Contemplation
Sanity
The effects of the drug are beginning to bug with our perception on this one, so in this one I took that sort of cliché effect of how I imagine pot heads to be hippies who lay back on the grass and talk about life while they’re high. So in this one, it’s on a mellow “Blue Room Session” level. If anyone may have noticed, I decided not to break the lines in this one and make them into paragraphs. I decided to do that to stay with the writing concepts. That’s the complexity talking.
Ep. 6: The Perversion of Thought
Crazed Logic
I decided to dabble even more into the mind with this one, and now you see our protagonist in an argument with the antagonist. But you gotta wonder “who is the antagonist” right? Well all in all, when your as high as the way the character was written, you’d see images and entities from your mind come to life. The Protagonist is talking to his conscience. And judging from the looks of it, he wins over his own conscience… or did the drug win them both over?
Ep. 7: Dissociative Breakage
Trippin’
This is the climax of the complex drug that our character has been wrestling with the entire time. I wrote the piece with it separated into different levels that go from 1 to 5. The higher the level, the more removed from reality he is. It’s a metaphor that shows how a person’s complexity can put them in a whole ‘nother world. And that translates to me by showing how I’ve been in my own world with my writing. Some say it’s with its own language.
Ep. 8: Recovery, Guilt & Discovery
Letter to the Consoling Consultant
Finally, the hangover moment. The drugs have vented out and our character is back in his right state of mind. The piece written is the only “simple” piece in the story. The one down to earth. It is filled with Recovery, Guilt & Discovery.
*******
And that’s the full analysis right there. Excuse its length. As you can see, a lot was going through my mind with this series. I’m proud of what came from it though. Hope you all enjoyed it as well.
Thursday, June 17, 2010
The Reboot Ep. 8
Letter to the Consoling Consultant
By: Uriah "The CivILLian" Walters
Thank-You
Breakfast was delightful
So very juicy and tender
Truly something I could sink my teeth into
But never again
No matter how enticing your plate is
Do not offer me any
In its illustrious splender
It's tempting presence
Because then, I'd just be living someone else's life...
*******THE END*******
And that concludes the reboot. Hope you all enjoyed yourselves reading as much as did writing!!!
Hmm.... now what else should I write? ^_~.
By: Uriah "The CivILLian" Walters
Thank-You
Breakfast was delightful
So very juicy and tender
Truly something I could sink my teeth into
But never again
No matter how enticing your plate is
Do not offer me any
In its illustrious splender
It's tempting presence
Because then, I'd just be living someone else's life...
*******THE END*******
And that concludes the reboot. Hope you all enjoyed yourselves reading as much as did writing!!!
Hmm.... now what else should I write? ^_~.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
The Reboot Ep. 7
Trippin'
By: Uriah "The CivILLian" Walters
*******Level 1*******
I'm supposed to say...
My thoughts are an open well
springing, sprinkling on the leaf buds
instilling life with a speech
Until a garden is created in the depth of my breath
Like a grove of strength
for the weary to drink from
But instead I said
Time's up, you're draining
I'm unplugging!
No more water hosing
Fire dousing
Drought rerouting!
The little dewdrops shall evaporate
And the cloudy day shall only instigate
Hiding its silver lining in a sly gliding
Coasting fly winds 'til it vacuums up
In a twist of words
The jist of verbs
Can split a nerve
And spit absurdity
Nervously,
Perfectly,
Thunderously
Bent to consume in high volume
You, and the whole worlds value
*chuckle*
Rapid invasions invading
And grazing the layerings
*chuckle* *chuckle*
*chuckle* *chuckle* *chuckle*
Rabid enslavings encaving
And pastings foul casing tracings
Roll-up your sleeves and fill up your gorde
Get blood on your sword.
Leave a few ligaments torn
Just don't be too busy tooting an off-key horn
Recruiting sloppy forms
Of braggadocio swaggering cocky allure.
Don't drop steep or depart detours
Because unfamiliar territory's...
*******Level 2*******
It's the ills of an illustration!
When you can't eyeball the illusion
...ill-fated
It's the ills of an illustration!
ill-hatred is ill-fated
and ill-tasting!
Now while you're sitting in your observatory
Forging a scoring of morphine to forcefeed
towards your teams reporters
Folks are hopping the border for water
Jumping fences for stipends
Causing glitches with an order of symptoms
.murder.
Is it unheard of for foreigners to have concern for
Discerning unlearned love?
Deserving a sum of some
One of them; break the trend
Releasing something deep in his skin to all of his "friends"
What's with his wide-spread wildfire
Consuming, devouring to satisfy its hunger?
Birthed from the abstinence of peace in arguments
What's augmented is ripples in the plans of ones prominence.
...
It's the ills of an illustration
Foulness in litigation.
Shuffling the shuck and jive...
*******Level 3*******
Okay,
Let's have some relaxation, baby
Some tiresome somnolence, infant
Some rejuvenation you, child of a patient
REM cycles and evasive language,
With a kid whose mind dreams of spaceships.
...
The other day I lost my lollipop
And I was shocked
My jaw had dropped
It wasn't in my pocket when I left the park
Luh, Luh, Luh, Luh
So I had thought the guy I bought the lollipop from would have replaced it with yet another pop
but he would not
Luh, Luh, Luh
Thus I had plotted at my spot
To hit his shop, instill his heart
With fear apart from fearless arts
But acts afar.
Luh, Luh
I rolled up in at 6' o'clock and I was hot
A gun had cocked, my heart had stopped
I'm bested by a rent-a-cop
...Luh...
*******Level 4*******
Suppose the prose took an overdose approach
On the boast boost and added it to its goals
As opposed to sitting in a folded chair when
The thrown was over there.
It'd be arrogant, haughty, barging into
Parties unthoughtfully with promising ways
To tarnish speech by way of slurring it until
It's inaudibly edible by the starving credible heads.
Ordering without giving warnings of forging a
Powerful mournful story with no boring scenes
And its entire world is warring against the
Pouring on of another man's authority,
Thus the fight heads to a gore allure allegory.
The annoying gaseous pull in me seemed to
Derive from a timid smidgeon of experiencing
Extravagant living with adventurous pilgrims
And swash-buckling lavishness built into a
Thrilling. Thus the explosion that caught
Me was probably my own escaping from
Embarrasing awkward moment zones,
And into a strange venue
*******Level 5*******
There is such a bulbous pulse up in this
Pompous pauper poppin' proper points to partners
Punctuation markers prick the paper market
Sparkin' problems, hot-and-bothered thoughts are bulging
Out the office, causing pods of awkward plots
To bombard solace with a pause..!
...
A polished pause
A stationed silence
A quiet inquiry
Asking in confused curiosity...
"When will rejection regret its reflection and resound in its reasoning"
...
...
...
*******BINGE*******
By: Uriah "The CivILLian" Walters
*******Level 1*******
I'm supposed to say...
My thoughts are an open well
springing, sprinkling on the leaf buds
instilling life with a speech
Until a garden is created in the depth of my breath
Like a grove of strength
for the weary to drink from
But instead I said
Time's up, you're draining
I'm unplugging!
No more water hosing
Fire dousing
Drought rerouting!
The little dewdrops shall evaporate
And the cloudy day shall only instigate
Hiding its silver lining in a sly gliding
Coasting fly winds 'til it vacuums up
In a twist of words
The jist of verbs
Can split a nerve
And spit absurdity
Nervously,
Perfectly,
Thunderously
Bent to consume in high volume
You, and the whole worlds value
*chuckle*
Rapid invasions invading
And grazing the layerings
*chuckle* *chuckle*
*chuckle* *chuckle* *chuckle*
Rabid enslavings encaving
And pastings foul casing tracings
Roll-up your sleeves and fill up your gorde
Get blood on your sword.
Leave a few ligaments torn
Just don't be too busy tooting an off-key horn
Recruiting sloppy forms
Of braggadocio swaggering cocky allure.
Don't drop steep or depart detours
Because unfamiliar territory's...
*******Level 2*******
It's the ills of an illustration!
When you can't eyeball the illusion
...ill-fated
It's the ills of an illustration!
ill-hatred is ill-fated
and ill-tasting!
Now while you're sitting in your observatory
Forging a scoring of morphine to forcefeed
towards your teams reporters
Folks are hopping the border for water
Jumping fences for stipends
Causing glitches with an order of symptoms
.murder.
Is it unheard of for foreigners to have concern for
Discerning unlearned love?
Deserving a sum of some
One of them; break the trend
Releasing something deep in his skin to all of his "friends"
What's with his wide-spread wildfire
Consuming, devouring to satisfy its hunger?
Birthed from the abstinence of peace in arguments
What's augmented is ripples in the plans of ones prominence.
...
It's the ills of an illustration
Foulness in litigation.
Shuffling the shuck and jive...
*******Level 3*******
Okay,
Let's have some relaxation, baby
Some tiresome somnolence, infant
Some rejuvenation you, child of a patient
REM cycles and evasive language,
With a kid whose mind dreams of spaceships.
...
The other day I lost my lollipop
And I was shocked
My jaw had dropped
It wasn't in my pocket when I left the park
Luh, Luh, Luh, Luh
So I had thought the guy I bought the lollipop from would have replaced it with yet another pop
but he would not
Luh, Luh, Luh
Thus I had plotted at my spot
To hit his shop, instill his heart
With fear apart from fearless arts
But acts afar.
Luh, Luh
I rolled up in at 6' o'clock and I was hot
A gun had cocked, my heart had stopped
I'm bested by a rent-a-cop
...Luh...
*******Level 4*******
Suppose the prose took an overdose approach
On the boast boost and added it to its goals
As opposed to sitting in a folded chair when
The thrown was over there.
It'd be arrogant, haughty, barging into
Parties unthoughtfully with promising ways
To tarnish speech by way of slurring it until
It's inaudibly edible by the starving credible heads.
Ordering without giving warnings of forging a
Powerful mournful story with no boring scenes
And its entire world is warring against the
Pouring on of another man's authority,
Thus the fight heads to a gore allure allegory.
The annoying gaseous pull in me seemed to
Derive from a timid smidgeon of experiencing
Extravagant living with adventurous pilgrims
And swash-buckling lavishness built into a
Thrilling. Thus the explosion that caught
Me was probably my own escaping from
Embarrasing awkward moment zones,
And into a strange venue
*******Level 5*******
There is such a bulbous pulse up in this
Pompous pauper poppin' proper points to partners
Punctuation markers prick the paper market
Sparkin' problems, hot-and-bothered thoughts are bulging
Out the office, causing pods of awkward plots
To bombard solace with a pause..!
...
A polished pause
A stationed silence
A quiet inquiry
Asking in confused curiosity...
"When will rejection regret its reflection and resound in its reasoning"
...
...
...
*******BINGE*******
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
The Reboot Ep. 6
Crazed Logic
By: Uriah "The CivILLian" Walters
This is a story of a protagonist and antagonist. Each with crazed logic. But you examine and determine who's logic is more sane.
Protagonist: "There's rigorous rigor mortis on the borderline
The girls I thought were sorta fine now scorch my eyes, with their enormous hydes you'd see on porno sites.
Plus they adorn the hype and they look for the shine of being the whore I liked.
Should I say whore or dike
or neither?
Let's take a breather. I'll make it sweeter in my flagrant teaser.
Or maybe risque and ask with patience either, if I can taste the beaver,
or be the adjacent receiver of her little shake squeezer.
They've made me an enslaved speaker."
Antagonist: "Uhoh, there he goes,
with his dilated pupils and his wide-ranged flaring nose,
developing a more scary approach.
Hoping to get someone's cherry broke
claiming he'd tear it in two,
speaking in derogative defaming dysphemisms in places where kids ride merry-go's.
Now the children swear it's cool to swear at fools.
They say it at charitable functions.
Just lunchin' with sweet potatoes and pumpkins and won't leave the table for nothing.
Look at him. His presence is menacing. Devastating.
He's negating positive objectives with his imaging.
Something livid in me is growing vividly when comprehending his incomprehensible sinful mentionings"
Hey you!
You over there!!!"
Protagonist: "Yes!"
Antagonist: "I have regards to shank you"
Protagonist: "Hmm!!!"
Antagonist: "You should get strangled, with your head disconnected from your spinal cable"
Protagonist: "Ouch!! Who are you?"
Antagonist: "It doesn't matter dude. Just know I'll end all your scattered grooves tatooed on your perverted unmannered school mind"
Protagonist: "Really!! why?"
Antagonist: "Why? I oughta"
Protagonist: "You oughta jump off of your high horse, and consider what'll happen if you maintain this course of action"
Antagonist: "How could you be so nonchalant about what you're saying?
Displaying a chauvinistic, nihilistic, twisted vision incentive persistence to this wicked living?
I don't understand
I don't understand"
Protagonist: "Chilly beings are eating chili bean burritos"
Antagonist: "???"
Protagonist: "Y'see,
Fervently my purpose'll be harmonious symphonies
Spoken from me, potently in motion with opening
And hoping these virgin locomotives have extra nodes
To place me juxtapose to a stepping stone
via catapult.
Just give me a quick jolt
Or a lightning bolt from the electric vault
That's strong enough to put a massive halt
Into my fradulent plastic hoax
Before I smash the thown
Of some wannabe Olympic Cheerleading Mistress.
A hopeful whom has wishes to get a "riches ticket"
Even if it means signing to a business
that places her into a group that rhymes with "witches"
which is quite livid
One little signature incision
Then life goes from priceless to a lifelong stipend"
Antagonist: "Well atleast she can go from eating crackers and biscuits
To muffins and Triskets"
Protagonist: "???"
Antagonist: "What is more disturbing is your unnerving wordings of treating girlies to pearl-links
attempting to swirl their thinking.
Crushing them while their blushing for you with your mushy mushy lovey dovey "lust for you" tools.
It's inhumane, insidious & evil
And what's worse is your insouciant, inhibitions!!!"
Protagonist: "No, it's my intelligence for telling them what they'll amount to by having their surroundings plundered til slumber.
But my hunger for supper, in the world of a lover, loves her, trusts her, but succumbs when she finds another.
Thus I mutter and utter and possibly stutter things from beneath me in a gutter to rupture her."
The Antagonist punches the Protagonist dead in the face. The Protagonist falls to the ground.
Antagonist: "Just as your ruptured sir"
Protagonist: "No, you're ruptured worse. Because I have enough in sudden spurts with an absurd lurk to put you and hers in a hearse.
All for my unearthed flirts."
The Antagonist walks off, whispering to himself.
Antagonist: "There's rigorous rigor mortis on the borderline..."
By: Uriah "The CivILLian" Walters
This is a story of a protagonist and antagonist. Each with crazed logic. But you examine and determine who's logic is more sane.
Protagonist: "There's rigorous rigor mortis on the borderline
The girls I thought were sorta fine now scorch my eyes, with their enormous hydes you'd see on porno sites.
Plus they adorn the hype and they look for the shine of being the whore I liked.
Should I say whore or dike
or neither?
Let's take a breather. I'll make it sweeter in my flagrant teaser.
Or maybe risque and ask with patience either, if I can taste the beaver,
or be the adjacent receiver of her little shake squeezer.
They've made me an enslaved speaker."
Antagonist: "Uhoh, there he goes,
with his dilated pupils and his wide-ranged flaring nose,
developing a more scary approach.
Hoping to get someone's cherry broke
claiming he'd tear it in two,
speaking in derogative defaming dysphemisms in places where kids ride merry-go's.
Now the children swear it's cool to swear at fools.
They say it at charitable functions.
Just lunchin' with sweet potatoes and pumpkins and won't leave the table for nothing.
Look at him. His presence is menacing. Devastating.
He's negating positive objectives with his imaging.
Something livid in me is growing vividly when comprehending his incomprehensible sinful mentionings"
Hey you!
You over there!!!"
Protagonist: "Yes!"
Antagonist: "I have regards to shank you"
Protagonist: "Hmm!!!"
Antagonist: "You should get strangled, with your head disconnected from your spinal cable"
Protagonist: "Ouch!! Who are you?"
Antagonist: "It doesn't matter dude. Just know I'll end all your scattered grooves tatooed on your perverted unmannered school mind"
Protagonist: "Really!! why?"
Antagonist: "Why? I oughta"
Protagonist: "You oughta jump off of your high horse, and consider what'll happen if you maintain this course of action"
Antagonist: "How could you be so nonchalant about what you're saying?
Displaying a chauvinistic, nihilistic, twisted vision incentive persistence to this wicked living?
I don't understand
I don't understand"
Protagonist: "Chilly beings are eating chili bean burritos"
Antagonist: "???"
Protagonist: "Y'see,
Fervently my purpose'll be harmonious symphonies
Spoken from me, potently in motion with opening
And hoping these virgin locomotives have extra nodes
To place me juxtapose to a stepping stone
via catapult.
Just give me a quick jolt
Or a lightning bolt from the electric vault
That's strong enough to put a massive halt
Into my fradulent plastic hoax
Before I smash the thown
Of some wannabe Olympic Cheerleading Mistress.
A hopeful whom has wishes to get a "riches ticket"
Even if it means signing to a business
that places her into a group that rhymes with "witches"
which is quite livid
One little signature incision
Then life goes from priceless to a lifelong stipend"
Antagonist: "Well atleast she can go from eating crackers and biscuits
To muffins and Triskets"
Protagonist: "???"
Antagonist: "What is more disturbing is your unnerving wordings of treating girlies to pearl-links
attempting to swirl their thinking.
Crushing them while their blushing for you with your mushy mushy lovey dovey "lust for you" tools.
It's inhumane, insidious & evil
And what's worse is your insouciant, inhibitions!!!"
Protagonist: "No, it's my intelligence for telling them what they'll amount to by having their surroundings plundered til slumber.
But my hunger for supper, in the world of a lover, loves her, trusts her, but succumbs when she finds another.
Thus I mutter and utter and possibly stutter things from beneath me in a gutter to rupture her."
The Antagonist punches the Protagonist dead in the face. The Protagonist falls to the ground.
Antagonist: "Just as your ruptured sir"
Protagonist: "No, you're ruptured worse. Because I have enough in sudden spurts with an absurd lurk to put you and hers in a hearse.
All for my unearthed flirts."
The Antagonist walks off, whispering to himself.
Antagonist: "There's rigorous rigor mortis on the borderline..."
Monday, June 14, 2010
The Reboot Ep. 5
Where the break-down begins
and continues
continues
but where does it end?
...
...
...
Sanity
By: Uriah CivILLian Walters
Please level with me. I need to tell a speech that tells ya "help ya peeps, especially when medleys of good times dont settle these stressing dreams." But they told me I need a lesser theme than what was naturally expected of me. Thus I siddled softly with a soundless esophagus, lost to what I should do with my haikus in high noon. I was suggested to distort their message, and set a horde of wreckage along their forts to test em. But can I give this moral lesson to these more or less men whom would sport my sessions and support my next trend with a core alledging? The world is filled with deep speakers, and nay sayers all relaying the same saying each evening. Just condemnation of street heathens with leech feenings for bleak weekends bleeding seepings. With expectations to follow suit with no questions asked, I felt sort of bad for this lifelong chore I had. Support my past and ignore my habits. It's more important that my orders passed down to me afford a path. I'm steaming pouring sad, seeking for a rag until I can reforge a plan of reachingly alluring ads.
I half suspected Math and Tetris brought a step of wreckage. Im grasping lecture sessions, mad at my profession. Am I supposed to sit collecting dust, while asking questions of, religion, politics and sexist love? Before we go deeper the sessions up. A few seconds is not enough to evaluate the problems you're thinking of. I met a guy who told me brainless is a language. Its natives are famous, proclaiming we embrace it. I stood adjacent because as I heard him say it I noticed how he looked faceless displacing my thought engagement. My brain shifted to this sane rift. It ripped in the fabric of my planet of man ways, mane I couldnt main-age. Attaining what he's yapping in a dull face that sported a lulled pace showed his heavily involved days. How could a simple puppet preach to me? No scrutiny, leave it be. It just caught me oddly all his remedies. I couldnt help but wonder if his words applied to me or if I should be rivaling this bridal theme our minds'll cling to. But then he said "don't worry. If you gotta think about the things that come out my meaningless mouth you'll be fine." Now I'm seeking routes more freedom endowed. Or should I say freedomly bound?
Please level with my antics and thoughts that were built on a bridge with someone walking it, passing a torch, ‘til he badly got scorched and fell to the ground, which meant within a snippet of an instant, he done blazed his limbs and anatomy’s form.
Burning my bridges, adding on gasoline and match-stick reeds. Stacks of leaves and branch rippings in a trashed city of a masterpiece.
and continues
continues
but where does it end?
...
...
...
Sanity
By: Uriah CivILLian Walters
Please level with me. I need to tell a speech that tells ya "help ya peeps, especially when medleys of good times dont settle these stressing dreams." But they told me I need a lesser theme than what was naturally expected of me. Thus I siddled softly with a soundless esophagus, lost to what I should do with my haikus in high noon. I was suggested to distort their message, and set a horde of wreckage along their forts to test em. But can I give this moral lesson to these more or less men whom would sport my sessions and support my next trend with a core alledging? The world is filled with deep speakers, and nay sayers all relaying the same saying each evening. Just condemnation of street heathens with leech feenings for bleak weekends bleeding seepings. With expectations to follow suit with no questions asked, I felt sort of bad for this lifelong chore I had. Support my past and ignore my habits. It's more important that my orders passed down to me afford a path. I'm steaming pouring sad, seeking for a rag until I can reforge a plan of reachingly alluring ads.
I half suspected Math and Tetris brought a step of wreckage. Im grasping lecture sessions, mad at my profession. Am I supposed to sit collecting dust, while asking questions of, religion, politics and sexist love? Before we go deeper the sessions up. A few seconds is not enough to evaluate the problems you're thinking of. I met a guy who told me brainless is a language. Its natives are famous, proclaiming we embrace it. I stood adjacent because as I heard him say it I noticed how he looked faceless displacing my thought engagement. My brain shifted to this sane rift. It ripped in the fabric of my planet of man ways, mane I couldnt main-age. Attaining what he's yapping in a dull face that sported a lulled pace showed his heavily involved days. How could a simple puppet preach to me? No scrutiny, leave it be. It just caught me oddly all his remedies. I couldnt help but wonder if his words applied to me or if I should be rivaling this bridal theme our minds'll cling to. But then he said "don't worry. If you gotta think about the things that come out my meaningless mouth you'll be fine." Now I'm seeking routes more freedom endowed. Or should I say freedomly bound?
Please level with my antics and thoughts that were built on a bridge with someone walking it, passing a torch, ‘til he badly got scorched and fell to the ground, which meant within a snippet of an instant, he done blazed his limbs and anatomy’s form.
Burning my bridges, adding on gasoline and match-stick reeds. Stacks of leaves and branch rippings in a trashed city of a masterpiece.
Sunday, June 13, 2010
The Reboot Ep. 4
A few weeks ago, I was engaged in a scolding via someone on my Honesty Box. Constructive Criticism is beautiful, but I wonder how to react when my scolder won't take off her veil for me. Thus, the scoldee (Me) ends up rearranging matters (For better or worse: you decide).
Flyt to Ms. Anonymous
By: Rob "The CivILLian" Walters
Ms Anonymous: Your starting to become an asshole and I dont mean that in a bad hater type thing but the way you talk to people as if they are dumb makes you seem like a jerk which is why some many people kinda distance themselves from you.
All out of love just try not to sound so judgemental and that might not be the way you want your words to come off but it how people take it.
Love you Robert <3
Me: I know exactly what you mean. But it's hard for me y'know.
It's like riding a metro.
Going down the tunnel never getting tired of the echo,
Or going in the living room smashing the China in a trenchcoat
that smells like a pineapple expresso.
You can see all your problems and 1 sinus and then let go
Without at all feeling silenced by strep throat.
You're just required to yell louder and higher
and grow a spinal at every approach.
Y'see, The impulse of ailment annoyances
cause you to fail in enjoyment
Waisting pails and grails of ointment.
Playing a pleading to prevail an annointing
All the while not noticing the avail of more positive choices.
Y'know, sometimes... I dunno
I feel you're more worried than an awkward kis at middle school
who carries an elementary lunch box filled with last night's dinner food
dressed in the high-water bundle of clothing
passed down form a bi-polar uncle who's sort of controlling.
There's no sense of security in your stumble of shackles
Only slipknot confusions
Like high-heeled flipflop boots
In a room of outdoor illusions
That leave the aftertaste of a sour nuisance
in the mouth of you who conclude
to have a cowardice influence
You better recognize man
Follow the exercise plan
Or else I might second or thrice a jab
Until you see polka-dot checkered lights in your head
lol, hahaha
Just kidding my pudding
It's not my bidding to place shushies on you
with 1 finger on your lippies and a fist
provoking folk to say "hey lookie"
I just think you're tripping in your hoody
Your HB anonymity.
It arouses something quite enticing...
...wanna be roomies? :)
lol, hahaha
Just kidding my pudding
My sugar dumpling of diabetics to my word wit
who for some reason finds it worth it
to disperse a verse from your lips
adding insult to injury as a perfect fit
treating identity as a pile of worthlessness.
Ms. Anonymous: see this is what I mean being an Asshole instead of just taking the comment and using it to work on yourself you chose to take it to heart. Keep this up your going to be without anyone but God and family, and I'm sure your going to say thats all you need but that just means your accepting to live a lonely life.
Me: I know exactly what you mean. But it's hard for me y'know.
*sigh*
But I dunno, I'm trying to listen to you
But are you hearing me?
The advice sounded cool.
I just can't take you seriously!!!
:(
*******
So there you have it. But I dunno, you decide.
What is to become of Rob if he continues this course of action?
Flyt to Ms. Anonymous
By: Rob "The CivILLian" Walters
Ms Anonymous: Your starting to become an asshole and I dont mean that in a bad hater type thing but the way you talk to people as if they are dumb makes you seem like a jerk which is why some many people kinda distance themselves from you.
All out of love just try not to sound so judgemental and that might not be the way you want your words to come off but it how people take it.
Love you Robert <3
Me: I know exactly what you mean. But it's hard for me y'know.
It's like riding a metro.
Going down the tunnel never getting tired of the echo,
Or going in the living room smashing the China in a trenchcoat
that smells like a pineapple expresso.
You can see all your problems and 1 sinus and then let go
Without at all feeling silenced by strep throat.
You're just required to yell louder and higher
and grow a spinal at every approach.
Y'see, The impulse of ailment annoyances
cause you to fail in enjoyment
Waisting pails and grails of ointment.
Playing a pleading to prevail an annointing
All the while not noticing the avail of more positive choices.
Y'know, sometimes... I dunno
I feel you're more worried than an awkward kis at middle school
who carries an elementary lunch box filled with last night's dinner food
dressed in the high-water bundle of clothing
passed down form a bi-polar uncle who's sort of controlling.
There's no sense of security in your stumble of shackles
Only slipknot confusions
Like high-heeled flipflop boots
In a room of outdoor illusions
That leave the aftertaste of a sour nuisance
in the mouth of you who conclude
to have a cowardice influence
You better recognize man
Follow the exercise plan
Or else I might second or thrice a jab
Until you see polka-dot checkered lights in your head
lol, hahaha
Just kidding my pudding
It's not my bidding to place shushies on you
with 1 finger on your lippies and a fist
provoking folk to say "hey lookie"
I just think you're tripping in your hoody
Your HB anonymity.
It arouses something quite enticing...
...wanna be roomies? :)
lol, hahaha
Just kidding my pudding
My sugar dumpling of diabetics to my word wit
who for some reason finds it worth it
to disperse a verse from your lips
adding insult to injury as a perfect fit
treating identity as a pile of worthlessness.
Ms. Anonymous: see this is what I mean being an Asshole instead of just taking the comment and using it to work on yourself you chose to take it to heart. Keep this up your going to be without anyone but God and family, and I'm sure your going to say thats all you need but that just means your accepting to live a lonely life.
Me: I know exactly what you mean. But it's hard for me y'know.
*sigh*
But I dunno, I'm trying to listen to you
But are you hearing me?
The advice sounded cool.
I just can't take you seriously!!!
:(
*******
So there you have it. But I dunno, you decide.
What is to become of Rob if he continues this course of action?
Saturday, June 12, 2010
The Reboot Ep. 3
Word of Mouth (Gossip Circles)
By: Uriah “The CivILLian” Walters
They told me what happened
The other day at the place.
One man said it was a robbery.
A man used a few tools
Just to get a few jewels.
Enough for him to buy toilets with golden stools
Just to make the people who owned it look like fools.
"That's not what really happened"
Was the words of another man
*******
Gossiper 2: The owner was home
The reaction wasn't pleasant
Could've been the best robbery
Had he wouldn't have miscalculated
By one second.
And for that second, he was thrown in prison.
Gossiper 3: But also I heard that he made an escape
Slipped out of his cell
And even left from the state.
Gossiper 2: Wait a minute, where did you learn this from?
He didn't escape
He never left the cell.
You might as well call that his new home
When it comes to being locked-up he is no genius.
He has no crafty skills
No constructive mind spills
It's just someone else trying to make a steal
Who just got caught
Against his will...
Gossiper 1: No, No, No,
You guys are all wrong
He never got caught by police.
As soon as he left the house
To his unbelief, the cops stood outside.
Now, he didn't give in that easily,
This was just the start of his joyride.
Pulling off, he steers left and right
Top speed, practically out of sight.
The police might as well give up
It's obvious they can't catch up.
Not with their little government whips
That vehicle of theirs can't even pull off any tricks.
So the siren dies out in the background,
And the thief gets away without a sound.
Gossiper 4: The chase was not at all that simple
Law enforcers happen to be alot more nimble.
When someone is labeled a criminal
Cops will maximize the seriousness
No matter how much the crime was considered minimum.
They did lose him at first,
That is until the foot hits the pedal,
Making the exhaust of the engine's burst.
Blast off down the road they go
Cars swerving
Blue and Red lights flashing so close
It gets you to be unnerving.
Debater 1: But this man can't lose confidence.
To get freedom taken away...
He might as well end this chase unconscious
This theft of his can't be done in vain
Can it?
Debater 2: No, he needs these royalties attributed to his name.
With a few quick turns through alleyways and passages
The robbery will be successful
By whomever travels the road fastest.
Gossiper 1: And from there, he fled to another country
Gossiper 3: I heard he went to London
Gossiper 4: No, he's in Mexico
Gossiper 5: Yeah, he owns a business there now
Due to his invested money
He sells ball caps
Along with hotdogs & chips.
He gave my friend some drugs
Just for the hustle respects.
Gossiper 6: Actually, He just gives to the poor.
Debater 1: To the poor?
Gossiper 6: He felt it was imperative to steal
To give to whomever needed it more.
See, you must always look around and explore the person's motives.
It's not just beneficial to his status.
He even stole a house and sold it
To the highest bidding gambler.
Debater 3: You're lying, how did he do that?
Gossiper 6: Ah, good question
To which I do not know the answer
Gossiper 1: You mean you didn't hear about the fire arsenal he had stolen?
He took shovels and drills,
Planted bombs beneath the house.
The ground shook with such an explosion,
And the house flew 10 miles high in the sky.
Then 20, Now 50
It even flew passed to where the planes fly by.
Then it dropped at an incredible speed,
Miraculously landed,
Intact!!!
And with a new location it seems.
Now that's outstanding.
Debater 3: And you said he sold this house?
Gossiper 6: Yeah, he sold it to the man he stole it from
Just to get some money from him
And then some.
Debater 3: And then some?
Gossiper 1: Yeah the owner doesn't know who stole his house from him
He sees the thief as a hero
For bringing the house back to him.
He was willing to pay 5 million dollars.
Now that's 3 times what was originally paid,
But the bids had forced him to go farther
And the theif gets away with ALL of that.
Gossiper 4: All from a house robbery
To a house given back.
Debater 2: Well, whatever happened to him?
Gossiper 6: He was caught by the police
After all of this time
Finally put in a penitentiary
Gossiper 1: No, he never made it to jail
Gossiper 2: Yes he did, but he never made bail
Gossiper 3: The cops once again failed
Gossiper 4: This was a plan that he nailed
Gossiper 5: ...Now he ships illegal merchandise through mail...
*******
-_-'.... And that's when I decided never to go by these word of mouth gossip circles ever again. Just an impulse of false conversation, fueled by our own creative authorization...
...But then again, that may not be too bad... :)!!!
By: Uriah “The CivILLian” Walters
They told me what happened
The other day at the place.
One man said it was a robbery.
A man used a few tools
Just to get a few jewels.
Enough for him to buy toilets with golden stools
Just to make the people who owned it look like fools.
"That's not what really happened"
Was the words of another man
*******
Gossiper 2: The owner was home
The reaction wasn't pleasant
Could've been the best robbery
Had he wouldn't have miscalculated
By one second.
And for that second, he was thrown in prison.
Gossiper 3: But also I heard that he made an escape
Slipped out of his cell
And even left from the state.
Gossiper 2: Wait a minute, where did you learn this from?
He didn't escape
He never left the cell.
You might as well call that his new home
When it comes to being locked-up he is no genius.
He has no crafty skills
No constructive mind spills
It's just someone else trying to make a steal
Who just got caught
Against his will...
Gossiper 1: No, No, No,
You guys are all wrong
He never got caught by police.
As soon as he left the house
To his unbelief, the cops stood outside.
Now, he didn't give in that easily,
This was just the start of his joyride.
Pulling off, he steers left and right
Top speed, practically out of sight.
The police might as well give up
It's obvious they can't catch up.
Not with their little government whips
That vehicle of theirs can't even pull off any tricks.
So the siren dies out in the background,
And the thief gets away without a sound.
Gossiper 4: The chase was not at all that simple
Law enforcers happen to be alot more nimble.
When someone is labeled a criminal
Cops will maximize the seriousness
No matter how much the crime was considered minimum.
They did lose him at first,
That is until the foot hits the pedal,
Making the exhaust of the engine's burst.
Blast off down the road they go
Cars swerving
Blue and Red lights flashing so close
It gets you to be unnerving.
Debater 1: But this man can't lose confidence.
To get freedom taken away...
He might as well end this chase unconscious
This theft of his can't be done in vain
Can it?
Debater 2: No, he needs these royalties attributed to his name.
With a few quick turns through alleyways and passages
The robbery will be successful
By whomever travels the road fastest.
Gossiper 1: And from there, he fled to another country
Gossiper 3: I heard he went to London
Gossiper 4: No, he's in Mexico
Gossiper 5: Yeah, he owns a business there now
Due to his invested money
He sells ball caps
Along with hotdogs & chips.
He gave my friend some drugs
Just for the hustle respects.
Gossiper 6: Actually, He just gives to the poor.
Debater 1: To the poor?
Gossiper 6: He felt it was imperative to steal
To give to whomever needed it more.
See, you must always look around and explore the person's motives.
It's not just beneficial to his status.
He even stole a house and sold it
To the highest bidding gambler.
Debater 3: You're lying, how did he do that?
Gossiper 6: Ah, good question
To which I do not know the answer
Gossiper 1: You mean you didn't hear about the fire arsenal he had stolen?
He took shovels and drills,
Planted bombs beneath the house.
The ground shook with such an explosion,
And the house flew 10 miles high in the sky.
Then 20, Now 50
It even flew passed to where the planes fly by.
Then it dropped at an incredible speed,
Miraculously landed,
Intact!!!
And with a new location it seems.
Now that's outstanding.
Debater 3: And you said he sold this house?
Gossiper 6: Yeah, he sold it to the man he stole it from
Just to get some money from him
And then some.
Debater 3: And then some?
Gossiper 1: Yeah the owner doesn't know who stole his house from him
He sees the thief as a hero
For bringing the house back to him.
He was willing to pay 5 million dollars.
Now that's 3 times what was originally paid,
But the bids had forced him to go farther
And the theif gets away with ALL of that.
Gossiper 4: All from a house robbery
To a house given back.
Debater 2: Well, whatever happened to him?
Gossiper 6: He was caught by the police
After all of this time
Finally put in a penitentiary
Gossiper 1: No, he never made it to jail
Gossiper 2: Yes he did, but he never made bail
Gossiper 3: The cops once again failed
Gossiper 4: This was a plan that he nailed
Gossiper 5: ...Now he ships illegal merchandise through mail...
*******
-_-'.... And that's when I decided never to go by these word of mouth gossip circles ever again. Just an impulse of false conversation, fueled by our own creative authorization...
...But then again, that may not be too bad... :)!!!
Friday, June 11, 2010
The Reboot Ep. 2
*sigh* This was intended to be a daily update for the series, but unfortunately as soon as I post Episode 1, that's when the Cable Guy comes and installs Verizon Fios while at the same time disabling the internet. And it was off for a few days until my pops went ahead and did some configuration (which I'm sure I coulda did considering the major at my alma mater) that got the computer back on the web today. Story of my life. But it any case let's get back into it.
On the previous episode of "The Reboot", The virus made it's attack. Will it take over the mind of the speaker? Find out today, on "The Reboot."
Inkblots of Terrorism
By: Rob "The CivILLian" Walters
******* Page 1 *******
Allow me to adjust my jibberish
So as to adapt this new found niggerish insidious symptom of ignorance...
...ignorance and...
...HATRED
Hate, Hate, Hate, Hate, Hate!!!
It seems everybody holds it
No one controls it or folds it
We're caught in origami poses
Crumbled by the crease and pressure
Of some worded conversation or
a lack of proper patience
With a jab in constellations
See the...
Dotted lines connect with the alloted time
You had, which was ample enough to take part in a crime
Then you get arrested
Get pardoned a line
Get pardoned a sentence
No periods, only commas publishing appearances.
Or perhaps ellipses epilepsy
Where you go insanely crazy during pauses and phazes, where partly written phrases
inspire you to go call your agent to get a brand new sheet of paper
'cause there's rips in your aggravation.
HO-kay!!! Let's dump it and start anew
With my valuable, reliable clean slate of fallibles
The volume booms
The value insues
Distorted installation of information...
******* Page 2 *******
But there is hatred on this brand new sheet
In the form of chicken-scratch dabblings and scribbles on the little syntax errors.
No declaritive nor imperative sentence tenses.
All the words tenances is
visually finished with
Question-marks of cat killer curiosity
Blossoming?
Possibly
Tarnishing
Prodigies???
Is this an aut'mn anonymity from overseas?
Or just the overseer of my anonymous falling dreams?
It's incomprehensible
But is it improv expendable?
Am I a slip-off dependable
To my tip-off memorables
Just for a big applause from critics-who
Belittly you
A chip-off the o-riginal
So pitiful!!!
Pitiful
It's pitiful
Terrible hand drawings and carvings
Nothing but wasted paper on artistry,
The part that departs from me
******* Page 3 *******
And we all seem to hold this molding that's molded
smothered in the smolder of ink and soot
suffocating our respiratory lung passages
'til we're coughing up it's awkward backwardness
Getting spewed on every single page
With the glaze of rage
That we didn't know we had encaved
Until we're enslaved on this last stage
Of past age
Immature vast rape on innocence's
"Glad phaze"
Black sheets of blank paper for journalism
News flash, every booklet is sold for tourism
Inkblots of terrorism!
On the previous episode of "The Reboot", The virus made it's attack. Will it take over the mind of the speaker? Find out today, on "The Reboot."
Inkblots of Terrorism
By: Rob "The CivILLian" Walters
******* Page 1 *******
Allow me to adjust my jibberish
So as to adapt this new found niggerish insidious symptom of ignorance...
...ignorance and...
...HATRED
Hate, Hate, Hate, Hate, Hate!!!
It seems everybody holds it
No one controls it or folds it
We're caught in origami poses
Crumbled by the crease and pressure
Of some worded conversation or
a lack of proper patience
With a jab in constellations
See the...
Dotted lines connect with the alloted time
You had, which was ample enough to take part in a crime
Then you get arrested
Get pardoned a line
Get pardoned a sentence
No periods, only commas publishing appearances.
Or perhaps ellipses epilepsy
Where you go insanely crazy during pauses and phazes, where partly written phrases
inspire you to go call your agent to get a brand new sheet of paper
'cause there's rips in your aggravation.
HO-kay!!! Let's dump it and start anew
With my valuable, reliable clean slate of fallibles
The volume booms
The value insues
Distorted installation of information...
******* Page 2 *******
But there is hatred on this brand new sheet
In the form of chicken-scratch dabblings and scribbles on the little syntax errors.
No declaritive nor imperative sentence tenses.
All the words tenances is
visually finished with
Question-marks of cat killer curiosity
Blossoming?
Possibly
Tarnishing
Prodigies???
Is this an aut'mn anonymity from overseas?
Or just the overseer of my anonymous falling dreams?
It's incomprehensible
But is it improv expendable?
Am I a slip-off dependable
To my tip-off memorables
Just for a big applause from critics-who
Belittly you
A chip-off the o-riginal
So pitiful!!!
Pitiful
It's pitiful
Terrible hand drawings and carvings
Nothing but wasted paper on artistry,
The part that departs from me
******* Page 3 *******
And we all seem to hold this molding that's molded
smothered in the smolder of ink and soot
suffocating our respiratory lung passages
'til we're coughing up it's awkward backwardness
Getting spewed on every single page
With the glaze of rage
That we didn't know we had encaved
Until we're enslaved on this last stage
Of past age
Immature vast rape on innocence's
"Glad phaze"
Black sheets of blank paper for journalism
News flash, every booklet is sold for tourism
Inkblots of terrorism!
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
The Reboot Ep. 1
Counting down to my 20th birthday (06/15/90) , I'm going to entertain you with The Reboot series. A series of peices I wrote detailing loss and rediscovery, but you can give your own opinion on it. Be sure to comment.
*******
The "P"-Virus Storm
By: Uriah "The CivILLian" Walters
Storm drain,
Abash Abash
Flood over the abacus of the underground
With trash, with trash...
Listeners,...LISTEN!!!...........?
Soak within the sewerage of unsanitary
nasty-esque lineage for dirt replenishment.
Undistilled, over-filled, no conceal
overflowing 'til it overflows to overflowable PODIUMS, PEDASTALS, PROXIMITIES of toxic intolerance.
POLYCHEMICAL radiation fluids of POLYSYLLABIC PROBLEMS, so PROBLEMATIC at influencing POLEMIC discussions that the POLITICALLY correct will get criticized to POLICIZE the POLICY to cause a POLKA-DOT POLARITY to the POINT of no return for clarity...
.........
But just when the POISON begins to wear off
... The POINT of view gets PLAGUED to POLYGAMY.
POLYPHONIC musical notes are PLAYED with POMPOUS POSITIONING, PLACING a POMPADOUR-ESQUE autocratic POLISHED crown on the POISED, to PORTRAY POPIN-JAY traits to the POSTERITY.
They will POSTULATE the POSSIBLE...
PROCRASTINATE with a legacy of no POSTHUMOUS dates...
POST-PARTUM POTENTIAL wasted on a PLATE with no POST-PRANDIAL effects...
The toxins are POSTE-HASTE
Storm Drain
*******
The "P"-Virus Storm
By: Uriah "The CivILLian" Walters
Storm drain,
Abash Abash
Flood over the abacus of the underground
With trash, with trash...
Listeners,...LISTEN!!!...........?
Soak within the sewerage of unsanitary
nasty-esque lineage for dirt replenishment.
Undistilled, over-filled, no conceal
overflowing 'til it overflows to overflowable PODIUMS, PEDASTALS, PROXIMITIES of toxic intolerance.
POLYCHEMICAL radiation fluids of POLYSYLLABIC PROBLEMS, so PROBLEMATIC at influencing POLEMIC discussions that the POLITICALLY correct will get criticized to POLICIZE the POLICY to cause a POLKA-DOT POLARITY to the POINT of no return for clarity...
.........
But just when the POISON begins to wear off
... The POINT of view gets PLAGUED to POLYGAMY.
POLYPHONIC musical notes are PLAYED with POMPOUS POSITIONING, PLACING a POMPADOUR-ESQUE autocratic POLISHED crown on the POISED, to PORTRAY POPIN-JAY traits to the POSTERITY.
They will POSTULATE the POSSIBLE...
PROCRASTINATE with a legacy of no POSTHUMOUS dates...
POST-PARTUM POTENTIAL wasted on a PLATE with no POST-PRANDIAL effects...
The toxins are POSTE-HASTE
Storm Drain
Thursday, June 3, 2010
No Man's Landers (But I Digress)
No Man's Landers (But I Digress)
By: Uriah "The CivILLian" Walters
Your musings
Are amusing
It is like that music
That moves me
The chuckle in my heart
Was a serious face
'til you broke it with a smile...
...but I digress...
A cheerful heart is the mass hysteria
When the crushed spirit is the norm
It appears to be a poison to
our mouths that we at once
would dare not drink.
We would rather wallow in the
thirst that consumed us
until our bones ran dry.
Simple no man's landers, forcing
A desert to be paradise
And sand to be our beds
With stones as the illusion
We see in the distance, giving
Us a satisfaction to our faces
It indeed joy were birthed out of
our self-mutilation...
We became so used to the aches
And pains and toils and struggles
And weights, that we had forgotten
Any opposite setting.
We were the settlers of a hope
That we had no hope in
So when we saw a way out,
We despised it as if to say,
"Let's go back to Egypt"
Let's go back to being servants
With no purpose
Whom felt worthless
On this Earth with
No reimbursements
'lest it be a keen inertia
That'll redeem a worker
With an idle sidle
Too far back in recline to be inclined
To make a revival as his bridal engagements
A cheerful heart is the mass hysteria
When the crushed spirit is the norm
Yet, it is the medicine
When the crushed spirit is gone
Let the crack of your smile
Be the dawn of your surroundings
...but I digress...
Whoever ought not have a sparked thought that'll mark the route of our conversation is free to jump in just to say nothing to add to that plush blend of nonsequitur observations.
By: Uriah "The CivILLian" Walters
Your musings
Are amusing
It is like that music
That moves me
The chuckle in my heart
Was a serious face
'til you broke it with a smile...
...but I digress...
A cheerful heart is the mass hysteria
When the crushed spirit is the norm
It appears to be a poison to
our mouths that we at once
would dare not drink.
We would rather wallow in the
thirst that consumed us
until our bones ran dry.
Simple no man's landers, forcing
A desert to be paradise
And sand to be our beds
With stones as the illusion
We see in the distance, giving
Us a satisfaction to our faces
It indeed joy were birthed out of
our self-mutilation...
We became so used to the aches
And pains and toils and struggles
And weights, that we had forgotten
Any opposite setting.
We were the settlers of a hope
That we had no hope in
So when we saw a way out,
We despised it as if to say,
"Let's go back to Egypt"
Let's go back to being servants
With no purpose
Whom felt worthless
On this Earth with
No reimbursements
'lest it be a keen inertia
That'll redeem a worker
With an idle sidle
Too far back in recline to be inclined
To make a revival as his bridal engagements
A cheerful heart is the mass hysteria
When the crushed spirit is the norm
Yet, it is the medicine
When the crushed spirit is gone
Let the crack of your smile
Be the dawn of your surroundings
...but I digress...
Whoever ought not have a sparked thought that'll mark the route of our conversation is free to jump in just to say nothing to add to that plush blend of nonsequitur observations.
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
As Gravity Turns Off...
"...for being weightless is a worldwide addiction we all relapse to..."
(from time to time)
That's a line from my latest piece that I'm escribing. Haven't finished it yet as I'm shaping which direction it should ultimately be in. It's based on a newly found thesis that came to mind. The whole world seems to want to be weightless. (metaphorically speaking)
To be weightless ofcourse is to be burdenless and without a worry in the world. No stress about a job or stress about school or anything that the average group of people (depending on their age) would be losing sleep over.
The goal seems to be to find a way to be successful so that we may live ourselves in a nice house like we were royalty. We'll lock our doors and stay in our towers for the rest of our lives drowning in entertainment as the rest of the world now works for us. That's the american dream right there.
Not to sound so negative on the situation though. What grabs me is how everyone is looking for that escape. It's like their own souls have to take a break from their bodies and surf the waves of something that takes them out of this world where they'd be weightless if for atleast a small period time.
I'm not just talking drugs, though. I'm talking hobbies and imaginations as well. And I find it so amazing, because if like is so busy and we're running around like robots all the time, then when gravity turns off, that's where we're truly defined as unique. Now, if only we could usher this uniqueness into the reality that stands before us.
My off switch to gravity aside from writing is ofcourse video games
*******
(Digressing)
Speaking of which...
This has always bothered me...
I never understood why folks, when they got angry. I'd hear them say
"I'm tired of people playing games..."
so many icebreakers with this one...
"Man, I'm tired of people playing games with my heart."
"Yo, I'm tired of people playing games with my mind."
"Son, I'm tired of him/her playing games in this relationship."
"I'm a grown man/woman and I ain't got time for no games."
Really???? I'm honestly starting to get a handle on why you may be stressed.
Now ofcourse, I don't no the situation of any of these people. It may well be a very serious one that indeed could be quite stressing and maniacal. I've just never been a fan of such a thing being called a "game". Folks are making games seem like some heinous joyride that takes a bite out of each and every one of us until we are no more. As if a game is a killer setout to end you. Honestly, I don't believe that is the case.
I also don't understand how games are only for kids. That's like saying every adult is required to not have fun and to stay in a state of constant slavery-esque torment. Plus, look at the adults around you. Majority of folk do look joy deprived and unstable. Only robotically focused on what they "must" do and how stressful life is. Life is beautiful because of its art. And games have that type of liberation as it too is an art. I'm not even talking video gaming but games in general.
Look at any situation you're in. I want you to look for what's stressing you out. If it's out of seriousness between two people I honestly want you to take the time to retreat from it as though it were a game. Excuse the rhetoric for those that may have been caught off guard. People don't imagine anymore. People lack innovation the way they used to have it in their childhood days because they throw it away as they get older for something more socially acceptable. Folks are afraid to embrace their weirdness. Their art. And that little bundle of carefree, innocent joy slowly fades away, thus making them say "I HATE GAMES", missing out on the very thing they may need to liberate and rejuvenate their creative juices to fuel the strength they once carried.
I say, if people are playing games with your heart or mind or relationship, then by all means, play along. Multi-players make action co-exist. It's quite fun. Besides, it's probably the excitement you needed. The stress is just in your head :)
The humanizing things we tend to overlook. ^_~.
In what ways do you turn gravity off?
(from time to time)
That's a line from my latest piece that I'm escribing. Haven't finished it yet as I'm shaping which direction it should ultimately be in. It's based on a newly found thesis that came to mind. The whole world seems to want to be weightless. (metaphorically speaking)
To be weightless ofcourse is to be burdenless and without a worry in the world. No stress about a job or stress about school or anything that the average group of people (depending on their age) would be losing sleep over.
The goal seems to be to find a way to be successful so that we may live ourselves in a nice house like we were royalty. We'll lock our doors and stay in our towers for the rest of our lives drowning in entertainment as the rest of the world now works for us. That's the american dream right there.
Not to sound so negative on the situation though. What grabs me is how everyone is looking for that escape. It's like their own souls have to take a break from their bodies and surf the waves of something that takes them out of this world where they'd be weightless if for atleast a small period time.
I'm not just talking drugs, though. I'm talking hobbies and imaginations as well. And I find it so amazing, because if like is so busy and we're running around like robots all the time, then when gravity turns off, that's where we're truly defined as unique. Now, if only we could usher this uniqueness into the reality that stands before us.
My off switch to gravity aside from writing is ofcourse video games
*******
(Digressing)
Speaking of which...
This has always bothered me...
I never understood why folks, when they got angry. I'd hear them say
"I'm tired of people playing games..."
so many icebreakers with this one...
"Man, I'm tired of people playing games with my heart."
"Yo, I'm tired of people playing games with my mind."
"Son, I'm tired of him/her playing games in this relationship."
"I'm a grown man/woman and I ain't got time for no games."
Really???? I'm honestly starting to get a handle on why you may be stressed.
Now ofcourse, I don't no the situation of any of these people. It may well be a very serious one that indeed could be quite stressing and maniacal. I've just never been a fan of such a thing being called a "game". Folks are making games seem like some heinous joyride that takes a bite out of each and every one of us until we are no more. As if a game is a killer setout to end you. Honestly, I don't believe that is the case.
I also don't understand how games are only for kids. That's like saying every adult is required to not have fun and to stay in a state of constant slavery-esque torment. Plus, look at the adults around you. Majority of folk do look joy deprived and unstable. Only robotically focused on what they "must" do and how stressful life is. Life is beautiful because of its art. And games have that type of liberation as it too is an art. I'm not even talking video gaming but games in general.
Look at any situation you're in. I want you to look for what's stressing you out. If it's out of seriousness between two people I honestly want you to take the time to retreat from it as though it were a game. Excuse the rhetoric for those that may have been caught off guard. People don't imagine anymore. People lack innovation the way they used to have it in their childhood days because they throw it away as they get older for something more socially acceptable. Folks are afraid to embrace their weirdness. Their art. And that little bundle of carefree, innocent joy slowly fades away, thus making them say "I HATE GAMES", missing out on the very thing they may need to liberate and rejuvenate their creative juices to fuel the strength they once carried.
I say, if people are playing games with your heart or mind or relationship, then by all means, play along. Multi-players make action co-exist. It's quite fun. Besides, it's probably the excitement you needed. The stress is just in your head :)
The humanizing things we tend to overlook. ^_~.
In what ways do you turn gravity off?
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