VUNDERKIND’S NOTE: “I am not going to take anything away from this piece with pseudo-funny anecdotes. The author of this post craves anonymity, so his name shall be signed ‘anon’ at the end, but he is someone you and I know so well. You are invited to hazard a guess as to who this is…”
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Red stains where blacks fail
There is power in blood
Seeping through the black ink of quill
Flow of nature energy, chi
Poetic mimicry
Of sounds
And of darkness
And of blood
And countless wars
They keep me up at night
Ordinary
Mundane
I find that in all sincerity
I am wasteful with words.
Songs soothe by themselves
Trees tilt slightly
Tug of breeze
I hear hushed melodies
The faintest of exaltations
The voice of God
Lacking in logic, obviously
Full of purpose, not apparently
Scorned by the wise of the land
I am proclaimed insane
For I claim to hear when God speaks
They say isn’t it a dream?
Faint constructions of a feeble mind?
They clerics laugh at me
For they say God does not speak in the decibels of men
What is all this profanity you speak? They ask
They mock and goad, much like the Jews did Jesus
But severely lacking in understanding, father forgive them
I am cursed, for I am wasteful with words.
To be a connoisseur of words,
Is no small deal
To shape
To create
To think
I thought and so it was
As near to God as gods claim to be
Capital differences, all semantics in the end
Sacrificing reason on the altar of political correctness
I have a library full of books up there you see haha
There as in right here, in the towers I built
Through mind’s eye I see clearly
I see what you must see
You see it too don’t you?
Surely everyone must
Is this presumptuous of me?
But it is glaring
Right there for the taking
Surely you must see
They look upon me with disdain
But you do, you see it too
Why oh why
Why do you close lips?
But your eyes, they betray you
You see but you do not speak of,
Is this wisdom?
Am I stupid?
Oh God I’m stupid
Forgive my profanity
For I am wasteful with words.
Burning in a time of blinding peace
Seeping rather rapidly like bursts of steam through volcanic rocks
Temperatures that put the fires of hell to shame
To destruction I am sired
Inhibitions the devil’s to tame (Can you imagine? Gosh)
Call me stupid ‘cos I believe in God
Call me plebeian oh great hedonist sir
For you devote your life to the pursuit of sin
Color me fanatic but you will all go to hell while I make heaven
The last days creep on us, at lightning speed
The perfect paradox to an end destined with irony
I preach apocalypse
I fear death, so alive I live in fear
Waiting for the day of reckoning
Pay me no mind please
For once again I am wasteful with words.
I find that words escape me when I need them the most
For how else will I declare love to my beloved?
Words should hang for their crimes
But the infiniteness of words make this almost impossible
Antonyms tell of opposites, words negate words
Synonyms deal in solidarity
Sarcasm masks scorn in fur
Puns tell truths, half-truths and lies,
Oh how I marvel at the beauty of words
For words are implicit in meaning
Words are defined in words
Words stay eternal by association
For a word is a definition in itself
I am a writer at the greatest disadvantage
For there is just no winning against the tyranny of words
I will never win,
The most I can do is be wasteful with words.
– Anon
Sigh. Why can’t I write? Sigh.
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Nice piece anon, nice piece
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Word!!
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Justin this has your signature all over it, but there’s something religious like about this piece that sounds unlike you. Other options? Uluthrix or dunni. Janus? Tushe? Blaq? I don’t know and I doubt. Wait. Paetir? Ok paetir maybe. Most likely.
This piece is good no doubt. The writer seems to be flawless. The message is quite veiled (I don’t know). The topic is being wasteful with words but the message is beyond that.
The line “to destruction I am sired” seems out of place in that stanza, from my point of view I see the first three lines portraying the masssive urge to write (or how badass your piece is) but that destruction line just seemed odd. Other than that, dope piece anon. Very good stuff.
You see the laughs, the anonimity, words in brackets et al suggests this is paetir’s handiwork.
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Poetry. 🙂
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Yeah, poetry.
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Brilliant!
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“The last days creep on us, at lightening speed,
The perfect paradox to an end destined with irony.” Yep. New bio. /
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Brilliant and inspiring! What an oh so perfect “waste of words” infused with light, the Author apparent and undeniable!
I found this while looking for an illustration to a piece entitled: “Plague-a-wrist” Your offering said everything I tried to and then some…right to another level and off my limited known scale! http://salvoesinfaith.wordpress.com/2014/02/28/plague-a-wrist/
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Brilliant..no word was wasted on this piece
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Paetir.
Or someone he inspired.
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awesome write up. This is beyond amateur stuff
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