Methods, Experiments and such.

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.

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...

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.

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? ^_~.

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*******

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..."

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.