this might break the fourth wall but you have heavy teacher vibes. Like great aura for knowledge
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Pepto bismol is pink, tastes terrible, and makes the aches go away.
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âI have been a Writer, and Artist, since I was around 13. Words are my friends.â
/smile
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This made me laugh so hard.
how does anyone top that?
thereâs a pun somewhere in there. give me 3 hours to figure it out.
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âPerhaps I should explainâŚâ
/giggle
âScribe Ergo Sum Egoâ
(âI Write Therefore I Amâ)
âBy Meâ
"Actors and Actress, this be your ache, to display the truth and envision their Fate. For we are the voices that enlighten the soul to all of the falsehoods that endanger the whole. I am your writer. I am your dream. My power unfolds all that would seem a myth. Within their reason I hold no rhyme, yet without season I am in time. You give me emotion, I give you words. They give me reality, I give them absurds. I have a friend who whispers to me all of the secretes the Gods cannot see. All of the wonders that baffle their minds. All of the answers that they cannot find.
They say we are fiction, I know we are fact. We play out a fantasy to which they react. They shout as they call us feeble and mad, while all the time they know in their minds that they have been had. For we see beyond their wild twisted minds, and tear at their souls with our wild twisted rhymes. They refuse to accept the truth that is theirs, they would rather hang it on our burdened heads. Instead of repenting their sins as they should, they hide behind their too righteous hoods, and say that we have infected their minds.
They long to imprison my sanity, and lock it in their hearts. They dare to say they understand me. They cannot even start to understand the pain that is truth, nor that which is false. For they prey upon the reality that is our art, and strive to disrupt that, that would be their untimely downfall. For what they cannot understand they will seek to destroy. What they cannot control fills them with fear, and the truth cannot be controlled by lies. All that holds life together is born of symbiotic ties, and they refuse to admit that we are an important link in their giant chain of life. Strife is ours to bear, they say. We would be slaves if they had their way. Yet they grow more empty, as days fold into weeks, and weeks into months, and months into years. Their souls are flooded with embittered tears, that they cannot shed, for the fear that their equals will think them weak. So we wait.
We wait, until their mighty mountains crumble into their molten sea of trickery. We wait, until Godâs fiery sword of truth washes away their falsehoods from our world. Then we will begin to rebuild a life with the stones of truth and the waters of unity, and in this world born of light we will begin anew. We will dream our own dreams, and think our own thoughts, and bring forth our own creations, without the fear of retaliation from minds twisted, and decayed, by leprous hate. Once again rainbows will light up the sky, and flowers will sing, and horses will fly. Again elves will dance where children can see, and fairies will again play happy and free. The world will be rich with thoughts that should be, and heaven will cherish writers like me."
/courtly bow
/smile
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Thank you for that.
how dare you show me your heart before the first date.
now i feel feelings
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âThat is just one, of over 250 Poems, and Short Stories, I have written. Would you like to read some more?â
/grin
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ill take you up on that offer another time. a more sober time.
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âThen let me share just one more⌠You have seen my heart, now view my soulâŚâ
/grin
âOh Lady Artâ
âBy Meâ
âWhat an unpredictable mistress you are. As untameable as a wild young man, as fickle as a romantic woman. You mystify, and tease my senses, while keeping just enough out of reach, to keep me hooked.
Sometimes you linger on the fringes of my thoughts. Other times you relentlessly hound me, till I, so willfully, exhaust your need for me. Then you run and hide. Tempting me to give chase. Till my confusion rises, to the swelled proportions of a tidal wave.
Your, bizarre, laughter tickles my emotions. Whispering promises of master pieces and dreams fulfilled. Your challenge is like an addiction. Sparks flashing through my reality. You taunt me with concepts of unfathomable depths. Then, suddenly, you burst forth with an ocean of ideas, till I go mad trying to complete them all.
Once completed, Your fruits hang on my walls and surround my sight. Beckoning me to dive into the farthest reaches of my mind, to add to the family. I dust away the cobwebs to search the darkest corners of my soul.
With you, I express my pain. Through you, I escalate to the top of my joy. Those, rare, moments you allow me a finished expression are liken to a literal, and mental, rapture. Harmony, pain, ecstasy, sorrow, joy, love and separation. A potpourri of sensations, melding together, until black and white become fused into intimate shades of grey.
âRestâ, you say, when you know my dreams just bring more creative fuel for your greedy fire. You come, and go, as you please, on the winds of the gods. Your will is as whimsical as a child, at play. I beg, but you do not come. I coax, yet, you only laugh lightly, and dance away.
Only when I turn my back. Only when I choose to wait for your mood to release me, do you silently step up and tap me on the shoulder, like a young one playing tag.
Together we climb mountains, fight pirates and build castles on the clouds. We have known perfect love and dined on mystery.
Separated, you are but a notion and I am only human. Hand in hand we are invincible, immortal. Destined to ride on the tail of the eternal comet and live longer than the song of the bards. Our combined spirit engulfs the whole of everything, unlocking doors many fear to pass through.
Dancing with the elves, and flying on dragons, is not new to us. Nor are silver goddesses, rainbow bridges and picnics on the moon. We thrive on sunsets and meadows. We feed on fairy cakes and mead. Anyone is welcome to join us. They have, only, to unlock their chains.
We crave our others. Yours is a boat for your sail. Mine is a soul inspired. He is there. We have felt him. We have touched him. We have tasted him. Wasnât he there when first we flew, and swam the purple sea? Didnât he hold our hand the day we climbed the giantâs tree? Wasnât he that gentle hand that caught us when we fell? Yes, I know it was him, he told me so himself.
Symbiotically we support each other. You feed us fantasies, I serve us with tangibility and he pours the wine of inspiration. No longer are the stars out of range. We are now complete. We are now unlimited. One force of power launching a new reality. We dare to shape visions the gods only dream of.
Few understand passion the way we do. Even less understand fate as we see it. Many are afraid to take your hand and journey with you through the unknown. I have no choice. You are in my blood and all through my spirit. Itâs true, you will never release me, just as I can never forsake you.
Bound by eternity, we will always be one. Dependent, on each other, like the flowers and the rain.â
/courtly bow
/grin
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(Queen Cyndi Lou wanders off, in search of sleep.)
/wave
/smile
/vanish
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But youâre not a real bear! A real bear would lie, say itâs a druid, use some sneaky liar liar pants on fire magic to prove itâs not a real bear (which never fools me, not for one second!) by âshapeshifitingâ into some other form.
Which is exactly what a real bear would do-lie to try and get away. But Iâm too smart and hungry to let them fool me!
So youâre not a real bear and donât have anything to worry aboutâŚunless youâre trying to lie to meâŚ
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Happy Thursday Folks!!
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Your logic is impeccable.
/guardianform
/stealpicnicbasket
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Ohhhh! Now youâve done it! That was Surfyâs picnic basket! Iâm not gonna eat you, Iâm gonna pew pew you instead!
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My version is âCogito ergo sum; cogito.â
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I had made a dozen Apple Tarts with cinnamon icing over the weekend and thought âPenumbrae would definitely enjoy theseâ
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Oh yes! She and her human would so love them.
Oh, and to solidify my claim to be the geezer of this thread, aside from being 5-6 years older than Queen Cyndi Lou, I am also finally ready to replace our Sony tube TV that is more than 20 years old. Canât rush these things.
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My dads tv he bought back in 1996 lol
Our washing machine has woodgrain on it!
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LOL. Thatâs great. I remember all those wood decals from appliances to cars, the old Woodies. Great, now I have Beach Boysâ music in my head. Could be worse.
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As a Night Elf I wake up to a lot of these.
/innocent
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