Drop Me A Line

Just a little bit of word-play . . .

 

Words are just words . . . once they’re gone, they’re gone. What do you do in the absence of them?

They simply put you on the spot.

Words, words, and more words . . . once you drop them, they are gone . . . or, if you wish, they can drop themselves, overhead . . . and hang like a precipice over you . . . darkly ominous and foreboding.

But if you are brave, then you will drop the words and let them free . . . let them fly, into a dark tunnel, so that they can move . . . slide down the vast tunnels of thought, like bats through a cave, and spin through the air until they meet someone unsuspecting. Then, they will attach themselves overhead of that person . . . once again, like bats watching overhead.

Words are ominous, dark things.

 

After a point, you don’t care what other people say. You just let the words fly free. They scour through tunnels like mad things, they do not care where they land. They zoom in a million different directions. But, you just let them fly . . . simply for the pleasure of seeing where they will go, because it gives you a sense of power . . . it is mesmerizing and regaling. Eventually, none of them hang around your head . . . once you get tired of watching them hover, with trepidation in your glance-

You don’t know what will happen to them when they drop. But words . . . they are like bats. They fly through tunnels and you never know, where they will land. But they are quite fascinating- you can rest assured that you may watch them, whisk askance-

They move forward and back . . .

Until, finally, they no longer hang. They simply move, and let their true passions lead them onward . . . you may be frightened, at first, because you don’t know where they will end up. And they may do more harm than good. But, unleashing them gives you a sense of power, so you cannot stop.

Eventually, you can sit back, and watch them, simply for pleasure. Because, you have nothing to lose but your words . . . they will narrow in on your victims, or however, or simply stay there for a bit, until the victim- however the case might be- decides to let them loose . . .

But in the end, they are wild and they are passionate things, with a movement all their own. And you will learn to admire their grace, and beautiful flow. You cannot control them once they leave you, but you become addicted to letting them go . . . much like, love is an addict.

 

What do I do with these words?

Let them fly free and watch the effect. It may never be what I expect. But there is a wild madness, in watching those harrowing, little bats-

And, I have the control to create the whirlpool. Mesmerizing terror. Mesmerizing, wild, and free things . . .

 

I’ve written too much again. . .

Darn . . .

Drop me a line-

If you have time . . .

Just a word . . .

Or two.  

Reviews

[Wolfwind Words]

I had something witty, and I was going to respond
But along came pidgeon and knocked it into a pond
From atop the lily pad, where a grey frog sat
One couldn't help but notice his bright pink hat.
When asked why he wore it, his answer was concrete
"Life is like flowers, they're delicate and sweet."
So what had been a witty, became a rhyming door
Showing us a truth, that we're all crazy to the core.

Bats, frogs, watches and cogs
They all have some relation
To patient sitting logs.

So keep your words a'rambling, to wherever they wish to sway
Cause they are a touch of mesmerizing, that makes the eye to stay.

-Aaron

In the aftermath.... simply put... Nice Ink!

[Foxemerald]

Very nice, Aaron! You have nice ink, if I do say so . . . and- along with all of these ramblings . . . I must find myself in a rock between a hard place, sitting here while work surrounds . . . so, I must dream again another fine evening. Until that point, I suppose I shall just sit here, and while away my time with the pen. Because, until something more mesmerizing snags me . . . I find that the words upon this page are pointless, and run into endless lengths . . . so rather than sit by and watch, I think, that I will be a log, in the meanwhile, and let the frogs overtake me. Merely a stepping stool for one poor soul who wanders, and the sore feet of a friend- a place for someone who needs rest to wander . . . I am, at this moment, only a log. Aye me!

[isus]

i would like someone to drop me a line :)