View Profile nietzlawe
I am here to make a difference. Isn't that why we're all here?

35, Male


Globe of Earlobe


Exp Points:
23,320 / 23,490
Exp Rank:
Vote Power:
8.73 votes
Global Rank:

Humble Beginnings

Posted by nietzlawe - July 9th, 2011


Oh, how things have changed. The mighty have fallen, you can't beat a good back strain at 3.35am in the wee early hours of thy morning. I tells yee, it's one bombshell after another these days, a game of Dominant Dominoes with Mr Rhyme Wrangler, who got caught deep sea diving in a shallow pond of boiling cold water. Then walked to the nearest local store and banged on the shutters, the window opened and a coin flew from out of nowhere and struck him on the nose, which co-incided with the previous week when something completely different happened... Direct contradiction or somebody addicted from forming their own contra band, people need music as much as muesli - usually... It just saps my strength to say that on this dark night, the chips are down, and all I'm seeing through these binocular-shaped eyeballs are scary Philippino ladyboys with giant cockadoodle doos. Philipenis, Phil-Flash babes, you've opened the door to another Princess Di-Mension... While I say Hi to Pertension. This is no laughing matter, our lives are at steakhouses here... The only way out of this sticky situation is via Platform 5, the last train... All avenues are blocked, haven't you knocked my socks off yet? Cold War? I'm still feeling the heat from the Warm War... Sadistic coalitions, use it as fuel to make ignitions, it's revolutionary, but noone listens... The grandiosity is almost invisible, it feels strange doing things this way again, but so very very right... The ornate state of affairs, that's how these products have to be packaged these days... You can't sell out, otherwise the merchandise will follow suit and you will become nothing more than a hollow tube... A shadow of your former self, fish that get plucked out of water, off a duck's back... This isn't making sense is it? But you must read on for the explosive ending, the plot twist. First you must navigate a lot of this hopscotch, and the melodrama, get yourself invested and absorbed, to feel like you are carrying the same thing as me... This isn't any old pebble dash, what you are seeing is a blatant disregard for rules and regulations, a world without structure and rigidity, without pillars, the biggest pillar being LARS the Laptop that left long before his time was up... Before you can praise my prose it must be parsed before you smell the rose, but if it's not on par then it wont get far, t is a pleasure, pressure is a privilege... This is all you have left, don't feel condemned to be solemn in Salem's Allotment, alone again, and then some... One feels strange looking through three windows simultaneously watching a trilogy of lifestyles taking place, all unalike, the indictment, violence that incites riots, a dire strait of crooked jackets made in Gibraltar... Deliberately altered by the Bishop, a Cardinal Sin to change the cardigan, what will happen next? All bets are off, a switch at the mains to turn off one of Steve Martin's two brains... If you have figured out the ligament damage problem yet, then let me know, I'm all ears... As well as other body parts... A vaginal hole opened up like the Morganza Spillway.

Comments (3)

Oh those were the times.

Those were the days as well.

Those were the clothes. The clothes of a king, a king with no clothes.

Unbuckled, Undressed, Uncut.

Those were also the nights, and possibly other times of the day as well.

Something about this entry makes me believe you're frustrated, and I'm not just talking about the little face in the bottom-left corner that's Mad as Hell... but I think it supports my theory.

When you see that little face, it means that when I'm writing, my brain is experiencing paroxysm.