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Hock Your Junk the Easy Way
So, i’ve got this idea for clandestine activities of whatever colours and persuasions you might wish to indulge. We got the Internet, yo! What’s more, we’ve got advanced communication channels, such as Twitter. #1 Define Cryptic Rhetoric “… no [un-encoded] messages on an open channel…” — Saavik
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Time is on Your Side
Ladies and Gentlemen, Let this text be the answer you’ve awaited. Relax, for this people search begs to expedite this minutia of people processing. All that is not in momentum for the betterment of greater goals, I wish to identify, understand, assess, and execute solutions, congruent with your mission statement, the general morale, the company…
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She Knits
J______, she reckons value in words; endearment so denote this muse; he’s only real in or of dynamic measure inspiration, embodiment treasure rhymes: it is will glows beautiful by wonderment she knits it for her girl would, should, could: kiss cursed grace fingers cross his feet coarse to touch matter of course humans fumble about…
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Same old Interrogation
How much can it take How far till it breaks How much can it hold How many hours and days before the novelty grows old Till exodus quakes
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For Sunday Drives
Listen closely: blissful silence bitter sweetened sanity vital to respond irresponsible for charming unbecoming from the knee Come now: accompanying the child Id implores begone embrace; carry away far gone foreign misery beget a novel pain Settle here: for reckoning altogether clear, behold: proximity trades in lachrymose tickle upon strawberry nose Hold tight: hold still…
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Return Without Rhyme: a Reasonable Account
The key lies in the capture. Here, I would for you. Let it come. Let it be true. Here, not unbeknown, yet unlike Your talk of effort’s fare. Account of it how owned this debt analogous, it’s true topple the tables, for it accrues! Delinquent sinner, carry account: Conscience disclosure, what? Insignificance and counting produce…
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Auditory Hallucination
Beating Like a drum, or a Hammer Creaking Crackling, and torquing A short fuse torching The sound of morning The sound of night little reason could be right all perception like shadows shapes vibration of air not here, but there silence waiting shadows trace so very tiring ready the fool record what splatters breaking begets…
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From my Fingers, I Wish. I Could Caress
Manic Depression so named no more Major Depressive; Affective this role. I know what I want but I just don’t know how to go about getting it. Feeling, sweet feeling drops from my fingers: Music. Sweet music, I wish I could caress. I think I’ll go tear-myself-up; go on down Really ain’t no use in…
About
Published in 2006, What’s On Your Brain is the personal blog of @ajaxStardust
It’s composed mostly prosaic ramblings.
