Sam was not having a good day. It seemed that he had turned invisible.Nobody was talking to him anymore. Whenever he tried to start a conversation, people just looked away and refused to respond. Should he walk into a room full of people, they would pass straight though him, refusing to respect his solid mass.Sam sighed. He had tried everything to try and grab attention, but all to no avail. He had tried killing himself, but not even death noticed him.His was a sad existance. The only way to eliviate the pain was to write poetry.
In the beginning, there was nothing.The nothing was lonely, so it created something that was very powerful.This powerful being looked around and saw nothing. Nothing, now no longer alone, was content. The being was not. It had neither food nor water nor amusment, so the powerful being curled up into a ball, fell into the nothingness and slept.The nothing was alone again. It did not like this. So, it created another being, even more powerful than the last and, unlike the other being, gave it two gifts. A brain, and an imagination.Thus was God created.
God looked at the other powerful being, curled up in a tight ball, and thought 'I could make good use of you.'God then created a kiln (along with fire and everything else you need). He then thrust the curled up being into the kin, and left it to cook for a length of time.Unfortunatly, sound had yet to be created, so God could not hear the screams of the first powerful being.Once baked, God took the being out of the kiln and placed it in the nothingness. God looked at this and thought 'What could I do now?'
Boing 'What are you doing?''Bouncing.'Boing'May I ask why?''Of course.'Boing'...Why?''Because it's difficult to resist the urge to bounce when you're on a trampoline.'Boing'...You're a child. An absolute child. You take nothing seriously, you revel in simplicity and are simple minded.''Thank you.'Boing 'It wasn't a compliment.''To you, maybe not. To me, your words were wonderful.'Boing'...''You want to get on don't you? Hop on. It gives you the sense of freedom.''It's a waste of time.'Boing'Same thing. Wasting time isn't a bad thing. It helps liberate yourself.''...'Boing ... Boing
One is for a secret That should never be toldTwo is for vast riches That never should be sold Three is for your future You should be in control Four is for your past With the memories you stole Five is just a number Nothing special thereSix is just the sameSimple things come in a pair Seven should be luckyBut fate has another planEight is for bad fortune Like when you kick the can Nine is for a love It's beauty pure and true Ten is for the realists Who spit your love back at you.Numbers are magical. Fact
The Irony GiantBackground information:The average hight of an Irony Giant it 2 foot 6 inches. Whatever they say or do lends itself to irony. The most common cause of death among this species is being run over by ambulances.Anyway, one day, an Irony Giant was walking along when suddenly, it heard a siren sound. Supposing this to be an ambulance, the Giant ran and lept over the nearest fence. Unfortunatly, he did not know that behind the fence was a 3141 foot drop, the chances of which him surviving were 1 in 993, 671.Ironically, his lucky number.
I don't know what to write I'm tiredI complain far too much Am I depressed? Who knows?I really have no idea of what to write I should be getting on with work My piano and saxophone need playing, especially the piano Am I lonely? Who cares?What to do, what to do I will never achieve my dreams Is someone listening? Who hears?Let me know that you're out thereContact me. Please My soul feels tarnished My heart feels as cold as my hands Is anyone reading? Who sees?Nobody knows what this means Is anyone there? Who understands?