And in thought... or not. Blog by clidewithani
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A Trail Towards the Genuine.

 

It's a blessing, only cursed in motion.

To be resting, and never from the notion.

To be yearning, but never wanting of the pace.

To be learning, and always loving of the rest.

I've lived it before and I can only tell you this.

It's the journey of a lifetime, a moment of bliss.

To have it frozen is the greatest of journeys.

To keep it is the greatest of presents.

But I wish it upon you all, true love.

For in the darkest hours of night, there is light.

In the worst of shallows and the deepest ravines.

Against the rocks, in the whisper of the hallowed things.

To be warm in the cold, to be happy at night.

I wish this upon you, an eternal flight.

Oh, how I pray for your love.

How I pray you find it.

Never stop looking.

Poetry blog. It's going to be on DeviantArt to see how much traffic I'll be getting from other artists. My Valentine's Day poem is a hit, in case you haven't seen it. Leave me a reply if you'd like.

 

Nocturne.

 

To bless and to bestow.

The writers and their woes.

I've seen so many things.

But yours is the worst.

I love the dark of night.

To write and without fright.

To enlist in pantomime.

But yours is still the worst, fuck!

I trail and writhe unabated.

I toil and think away.

To understand the day.

That everything went astray.

I fuddle with the notion.

That you're such a poor token;

Of love and pure devotion.

I don't understand these ways.

Yet I wish for you only this.

That you are blessed and through love, kissed.

I hope you get the best;

Of effervescent address.

I just wish it wasn't so damn bad.

Fuck.

No but seriously, hit me up, you're hot.

 

For my poison-nailed, arsonic filled darling.

 

Seriously though, I hope things go better for you.

It's been so bad as of late, I worry so incessantly every time I read your blog posts.

I hope this at least adds a little light to your day.

To your nocturne, and the hope it'll bring about light someday.

Fuck. I wish you could just hop on a plane and move over, sometimes.

Visceral in motion, perplexing in slur. I don't think you understand what it is to be so flexable.

It's like a geared set of 5th-cycling prepositions flawlessly aimed towards a track record, not 1st place.

It's not just a motion, and I'll be damned if I actually have to clear a place besides the one I'm in.

If you're askin', it's not a gentility phrase. I'm condemned in a fluctuation of peace and lies.

Unfortunately, I only deal truths and I love to blow-up scenes. It's why I think you're narrow.

Go for the finish, will you? We're bored, over here. That's my problem.

The bored or the harrowed. That's what they say. I choose harrowing billards over the bored, any day.

The problem is the week, or maybe the month. Hell, let's just claim the whole year and chalk it up to a misdemeanour.

 

If only you'd've listened to how well I danced with you. Some people do.

One did, and I fell in love with her hug. Her 'hug'. It's hardly fair.

Oh well, I guess. If I had one final wish, I would only ask this, Gun-Tommy.

 

 

 

"I, guilty, stand before you. I know I've missed behaved. I never ment to hurt you.

I humbly beg forgiveness. Hope that my soul be saved.

And if I had a final wish, little miss, I would only ask this.

I WANT YOU TO KILL ME WITH A TOMMY GUN, BABY,

with a Tommy Gun, baby, with a tommy gun baby, do me.

GUN-TOMMY!

If you have to kill me, use a Tommy Gun, baby, use a tommy gun, baby,

use a tommy gun, baby, do me.

GUN-TOMMY!"

I saw Red Tails tonight!

 

I was awe-inspired by the splendid luck we had with the Jet plane.

 

Did you know:

14 of the Mark 2 Jet Fighter made by Volkswagon were made, but only 5 got into the air, and 4 were deemed operational?

The Mark 2 Jet Fighter was the fastest thing in the war, but the least deployed?

The Mark 2 Jet Fighter had the most kills out of any attack force with minimal problems but still was defeated?

 

Why didn't we lose again? Oh yeah, America was teh beeznees back in the day. Oh, how I miss you, America of olde. Back in the day when we didn't make fun of the British for a language we basically hijacked and mugged.

 

AMEEERRRIICCA of GRACIOUS--OH SHIT, JETPLANE.

 

Go Tuskegee!

 

Why is derelection the greater part of valour? Because you need to get past Mach 3.

 

Valour, in essence, is a flatspin gone awry. I believe this in turmoil and in great prejudice. Spin and throw-up a little, at least the guy next door says he's seen better days. An eternal want, a need, a vicious vivacious dash towards a glimpse, and you'll have surpassed many of the to-date being-wells that of which encompass our nation. This is what I don't understand and crave, the knowledge of whysdom.

 

Oh why, oh why. We were so far. And yet we have come towards, and once again about, a recession of ideals and ideologies that predate midschool and are about it at the same time. Let's not circulate Junior High but instead love and procede to endure beyond our indifferences and beauties, because some of them mark us and others generate wealth forward that of which is beyond undeniable.

 

That's what I hate. The fact that it's so easy to overlook. I won't, for the life of me. But I love sex, and that's where I feel I can be pried and preyed upon, for my esteem and ability. I won't take it, but that's the trick. Oh well, I guess. It's assumed, I assume. To be yet or until therefore perckencise. Predelection in precision in a glimpse of seduction. Like a fine wine of derelection with copiousness. I dig it.

It's a stringent accord, the beseechement of the fallen.

 

It's a blessed visage, the mixolidian harmonics.

Marksolicks, vistocrage. Mistrogenerics.

Moxipotent and vilimarious.

Cruel and diligent in vasperidiousness designation.

 

---Vistage: Command Line?: Arrogance---

Mliljackln;rnlakjdsncjjjjckkjsgkjbablkrbljdnsabkiubsdkbjaclhdsf

adsaldkjfaeklajwejnaljkndljfslnakjdsnnamknakcelnaklxm,nalkjanewa

csdkljfas;dhf;ljksd

f;alkjsdfklj

aewjaf

kljsd

klafsdkkjf

adf

 

a

df

ak

df

a

ksdlkflk

asdjf

asldkfjlkjscm'foiweu

j9

---Command Line: Pennance: Mistletainn: Billimoxtrin: Voklarinel.skkjyj: Creamery: Obtained: Moklikinrsintrin: Obtained: Migrix: Obtained: Motototrin: Obtained: Create Potion: Obtained: Biselmutrin: Obtained: Motototrin: Obtained: Boxlimaris: Obtained: Mikrotosin: Obtained: Bosimutrin: Obtained: Miseltain: OBtained: Myseltainn: Obtained: Miseltynn: Obtained x 5.: Quety: Bismelitrin: Unobtained: Vixerousionnion: Unobtained: Justimarx: Obtained: Motrosin: Obtained: Eutranix: Obtained: Miseltayinn: Obtained: Myseltainn: Obtained, Truly. All Marks Aquired.: Obstinance: Obtained: c: Unobtained: Mixeltrai: Obtained: Mislifljke: Obtained : Mixrideouiso: Obtained: Redioso, 15th century photographer: Obtained: Expel mark Unobtained: Exclusion: Obtained: Mixtrisasin: Obtained Assasin: Biselmark: Obtained: Safety Tronomix: Obtained x1000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000: Mixlslijlfjkakejncovw: Obtained.

 

All Marks Obtained: Final Fight- Sol. Young. Mixolidian scale obtained. Marks obtained. All obstained. Markixismc;lkjlkmcea;kljsd

System offline.

 

--Command proxy server offline--

 

Finiteness finished. SHould've fucking bet for finiteness. Didn't know he was so good.

Or that I was. Whatever, he told me I was. Ugh, I love that man.

And he still is, I am not.

 

Ode to you.

<3

End command line.

 

 

Did you just ugh.

We.. Yeah.

Go gogogogogogogogogogogogojajajajajajHahaha. Yeah, no, they're real. Hold on. There. Hold still.

 

Moxitrim

Niasin

Vistoligrim.

fisterbuel

Molomixerastis

Miseptir

d;lkjac;lkn;ean;iouljwi;p23 0a8nn9eorjia dfdc;llsd

Bisereximas

Ximerman

Mixermalitosxin

Mitosixniaojcreklj,.,kajfjolhjlkgrjco;aijoia4978lkjahbkb23o9cu2.k1pl02=1-

 

--End Command Line--

 

Yup.

It's a fucking wonder.

 

The estrogenic beseechment of the bemusing astrogens.

I lied when I said you weren't palpable.

Do you stretch to such bonds as bwilderment?

Frigsmede and palimar.

Studiousness and belixtiousness.

It's a doubt and a wonder.

 

Is the frogsmede gandering?

Is the gallaspidonian palimatrix frailstede?

Puckerishing.

 

 

 

 

A fucking wonder. That's what you should call it.

 

Let's give it space, then.

 

To what do I owe the honor?

 

Pardon? An honor is a basis.

Oh my, obligatory?

Hu?

Do you like it?

I fancy any aptitude amongst pleasure for the sake of pleasure, that's right.

Why?

I have no sanctity beyond the love of others.

You're a robot then.

It's children?

Yeah.

You're a robot still.

Oh, excuse me. Do you bleed?

Black, now.

Why?

Besunk.

 

---Initiative Line: Action: Bestow Combat Variabalistics---

HAHA, caught you.

Belisjlkjfrjijklajfnwekajld;slfkjlkjjjdjfjkjdf Hahah. Okay then.

Overages.

Yeah, let it breathe.

--------End: Initiative Line: Combat Variabalistics------000

 

I've seen it, I'll tell them.

The evervesence. Beyond that, it's a growth.

You wouldn't believe me if I told you.

Nobody stretches far enough or close enough to concieve of the deviousness of that statement.

Let me tell you one thing.

What if they sucked souls too?

What if they didn't tarnish?

What if you were reminded?

Yeah, now you might understand why it's me instead of you.

 

Well then.

 

Yeah. I'm a gennius writer. I'm partialized beyond most of the world.

The rest hide. Don't beseech or dismean me. I could've been the best, and it would've been my pleasure.

 

That's why it's evil. Yeah. :/

I was starch once.

 

Molded, aptitudious, but still bewildered. Starch.

Moxicombed, meddled, metitosized.

Yes, it's punny.

Obviously.

 

Oh crap.

And then we bemuse and bewilder. Ontitosent.

It's a line, divine. Omnitosent. Beville.

To stop or ... wait.

Oh yeah.

 

They say and they don't, or what.

And.

Yeah.

 

Well that was sensicle.

Whimsicle.

Popsicle.

Lunch!

No, I am not dietting.

 

It's not a haiku either. Jesus.

A flair a toast.

An omniroast.

A popsifreeze.

To better please.

To antiwrite.

To behold unsmited.

It's perturbed.

Bewildermerved.

In preparation.

Behisteration.

Literality.

Mistermeanor.

Blistremenous.

Ness.

Eeeee...

 

Proverbialitism!

Egalitarianism!

Coin! Flip Undo!

Copy, paste! Shit!

 

Can I... NOOOO!!!

Mostmoximer.

Ooohhh... Polimoxy.

Yeah, haha.

DAMNIT!

They said not to get mad.

Rape! D:

Oh, chhh-tsss.

Erh-eh-erheh.

Hi Alex. IT'S HIS BLOG POST.

YEAH, DON'T WRITE IN BLOG POSTS. IT'S UNWARRENTED.

YELLING. HI.

Capslocks, sorry.

Megaphone down.

Don't turn your system off, it's for your own protection.

Coma.

im.

Dubstep.

That's for Chuch.

Steeple.

Bastok market.

Yemi golfried.

Bestellian malotosis.

Mis tep.

Barberella.

Mis nom. Uh.

Bczerus.

It's a little...

 

 

Haha.

Mlisterix.

As of today, I have found myself enshrouded, enraptured, and in part, unrecievable by sex.

 

I count myself lucky in a fortitude of manners, but besides this fact.

 

It creeps, it crawls. It beats, it sprawls, it is, it is, it is.

Upon the breath of which I speak, I do narily say this.

Bless it once to bless you back. Bless it twice, you're through.

Bless it thrice and upon which token, it will spill you through.

It can maim, it can eat, it can blurb and dash and cry.

It can save your better moments, to only watch them die.

I seek to light, I seek to darkness, both of which it claims its' home.

Sex, sex, sex, I need it, I beseech the seedlings that hold my throne.

 

I hate it. It's driving me mad. I need sex, I need to pay for it immediately. This will be my next venture, if any. I just can't believe I have to pay for this shit. It's horrible. Oh well, I guess. If anyone wants sex, send me a message. I'm going crazy, trying to keep from thinking about it. It's like it's all around me right now. Yuck.

 

Anyway, this is just an example of my poetry. I'll probably have more later. Peace, ladies and gents. Give me some subjects in the comments section and I'll write about them. I need to write way more.

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