“Never mess with a creative with a computer and endless free time.” -Anonymoose 🫎 -
The Quotable Version is at the bottom of the page.
Chaotic particles in all of my articles An angle to the dangle of my participles Split the infinitive, be purely definitive Terminal preposition, linguistic superposition No grammatical slow down, no soft transition Words running wild, no elements of style Fighting for a while against a screaming inner child. I ain’t elite, look at these uneven metrical feet Here it comes, with the drums, words repeat. This is the chorus, not porous, tight bars arriving. Every word earned, returned, growing and thriving. This ain’t a competition, it’s just more repetition, Words used a thousand times in differing renditions. I don’t write to flex; it’s sex in context, an errant tongue, Read it all sweaty, and don’t be petty, as it comes undone, Not machine generated, effort venerated arbitrarily, Accusations cause sensations, but lack true verity. Slow your roll, little troll, ‘cause your squids ain’t shit, Your critique is a fart in a jar, passing for art, no soul to it. More on the chorus, sacrificed to Horus, words got away, I should reverse, break up the verse, but no, not today, The words are in focus, real hocus pocus, spells cast, I ain’t no wizard, you just in my blizzard, cold got yo’ ass, Grammar creepers, open your peepers, see the trees, You screaming to the void, unjustly annoyed, by what you perceive But perception ain’t conception, it’s just your point of view Be a little shit, but I ain’t sittin’ with it, you can straight screw You and your big head, you sultan of dread, gatekeeping turd, I brought the receipts, see the deceits, but I’m holding my words.
Check out these writers: Travis Hupp, PancakeSushi, Tangled Words, Sam’s Spaghetti, Bear Sage, Dorie Snow/雪多丽, Carlos M., Fiona Bridges, Stefan Pasek, Becky Hayward, A Writer’s Voice, Matthew Holvey, Mathew C. Bryant, The In Between, Mancee Elendew.
QUOTABLE:
Chaotic particles in all of my articles
An angle to the dangle of my participles
Split the infinitive, be purely definitive
Terminal preposition, linguistic superposition
No grammatical slow down, no soft transition
Words running wild, no elements of style
Fighting for a while against a screaming inner child.
I ain’t elite, look at these uneven metrical feet
Here it comes, with the drums, words repeat.
This is the chorus, not porous, tight bars arriving.
Every word earned, returned, growing and thriving.
This ain’t a competition, it’s just more repetition,
Words used a thousand times in differing renditions.
I don’t write to flex; it’s sex in context, an errant tongue,
Read it all sweaty, and don’t be petty, as it comes undone,
Not machine generated, effort venerated arbitrarily,
Accusations cause sensations, but lack true verity.
Slow your roll, little troll, ‘cause your squids ain’t shit,
Your critique is a fart in a jar, passing for art, no soul to it.
More on the chorus, sacrificed to Horus, words got away,
I should reverse, break up the verse, but no, not today,
The words are in focus, real hocus pocus, spells cast,
I ain’t no wizard, you just in my blizzard, cold got yo’ ass,
Grammar creepers, open your peepers, see the trees,
You screaming to the void, unjustly annoyed, by what you perceive
But perception ain’t conception, it’s just your point of view
Be a little shit, but I ain’t sittin’ with it, you can straight screw
You and your big head, you sultan of dread, gatekeeping turd,
I brought the receipts, see the deceits, but I’m holding my words.
