Wandering down, always on main street avenue,
The dreams of the many weigh heavy upon me.
Tree falling in the woods, making lots of sound.
Night begins to give you a haunt that's on cue.
Like dealing with something distant that is bound.
The darkened streets outside, the fallen lights,
Seem to reflect the time of a life come and gone.
"If it isn't real, why is it always in your dreams?"
It never really seems all great, except at heights.
This scene is a life splitting apart at the seams.
It's kind of like nothing else inside of her lives.
Yet she seems to be not at all plain, mundane.
She sits on her throne in lingerie and night g
It's what she's gotta gain,
Standing behind her door.
I sense my tension rise,
Everything seems surreal.
I just came by to offer a token of thanks.
Feeling slick and smooth like I'm on turn banks.
Whatever, better, trying never.
She's heatin' up my brain.
Never feign attraction.
Tower to the skies,
Maybe I'm floating higher.
It's known there is no chance of me spanking her thigh.
What I wouldn't give to be just like Steve Ty.
It's been a long time just to see her.
Whatever, never, trying better.
The time never finishes before I do.
Maybe there is a chance,
This message seems awry.
I have another gift,
Got to make sure I fil
The night is cloudy and I can't think all day.
This all seems to be taking function and form.
Spend the weekend at his place after a cig,
The burning clover taste and cinnamon smell.
Should we see life as it is or try re-frame?
The night tolls on longer and comes with a price,
The moon is a pale white for an embrace.
I don't see the reason for flickering lights.
It's still the dawning of my early plights.
I still remember,
(Words were as empty as the promises,)
The taste you'd bring,
(Of life being a kind and loving place.)
That spicy ember,
(All of our philosophies and late night queries.)
And our almost fling.
(You'll never
Don't Freeze Up Inside. by Stu-the-Swordsman, literature
Literature
Don't Freeze Up Inside.
He's gotten lost again,
The man with all the plans.
There seems to be another sting,
I have lived through it before.
Leave the spikes in your wrists and no way home.
You leave no choice left and you're gonna be sore.
Digitalize and mesmerize,
Dream of the future and forget about all that past.
There's a book for you,
That has all the story points,
But you've got to get to away from the first page.
"It's high time for a walk on the real side."
'Member the trip home from Angels?
After we had left from the Blues Beach,
And there was Walter with his slang.
Don't forget that amazing fortune cookie.
After that night, all there was,
Blinded by the sun in summer time,
Trapped, a cage with no wings,
Sitting, clutching on to sanity.
What other words can I say?
Must be the funky smell of rubber,
And this bind across my chest.
I can't follow as I write this down,
Don't even know the right phrase.
My marbles dissipate with my rhymes.
Hard to enjoy little things.
Think you know how hard I try my best,
At least that's how you portray.
Normally, I'd be singing along.
Donald's voice sings through my head.
Absence has affected my psyche.
Guess I'll just wait, burning out.
Can feel myself getting nearer.
Wait for "summer by the sea."
Mental eye watches for any sig
An astral eccentric and worlds apart,
Seek out her eyes as she glances away.
I can't cope, in a way I can't explain,
Feels like the sun at the end of the day.
Watching the stem of my run-away brain.
Who's this dumb-ass who says he isn't a fool?
This man that claims that he doesn't need school.
Doesn't he know that it's not for three?
Can he see if his mind isn't free?
Quirkiness in her motions and in her demeanor,
Can't seem to find what it is that I treasure.
A maybe here and the no chance of there,
What can I do when I run out of these pleasures?
Those of which are delicate, gentle, and fair.
But this tool still insists on fin
Experiences with Karma,
Feeding upon feasts of colors,
Look beyond throughout a window pane.
Shed light, her judgement will be cleared,
Understand our future's shaded blues.
All answers burned inside her shoes.
What flames could she possibly gain?
Raging incinerate pretends,
Suffering stones in sandy storms.
No tomorrow like time today.
Clouds hovering to reap showers.
Surroundings made forests remain,
To veins coursing sorrow and pain,
Yesterday's past in disarray.
When no entertainment aside,
No embassy bedroom to rest.
Preechings of zombies, no alure,
Planning sunshine becomes public,
From black through white reforming fa
Who Played the Maid? by Stu-the-Swordsman, literature
Literature
Who Played the Maid?
An old retired milk maid encountered me on the street.
She asked me if I'd like to go out and get something to eat.
I told her I wasn't hungry and I had someone to meet,
But she danced circles around me and said,
"You are starving for attention, and you have no one in bed."
As she revealed to me, now young in both my sights,
And explained to me about how nothing our nights,
She kneeled down and as she kissed, whispered words of frights,
"Although you appear to me in shades of black and red,
I'd sooner be with a monkey, I wish you were dead."
I stared at a tree as I sat in the gutter,
Wondering what I had done wrong, as I muttered,
Sidney Swallow, don't play my demise.
Cherry blossom beak, but cold as ice.
Rainstorm's coming with thunder's hissings,
Swallow your tongue, bleed your kissings.
Don't believe me, tell me, let me in,
Leave what I said, Sidney, no cold sore.
Sidney Swallow, don't fight anymore.
Sidney Swallow, pretend compromise.
Remove your beak from inside your eyes.
Thunder's crashing with static's shockings.
Close your beak to zip up mockings,
And believe me, free me, let me out.
Don't keep me back, Sidney, go out slow,
Sidney Swallow, stop being shallow.
Sidney Swallow, stop your laughing, whore,
Don't stick your beak inside of my door.
St
A bridge connecting two islands together,
The river flows through endlessly out of view.
Sparkling rocks by the river banks glide forever,
Uncultured, uneditted, opened up brand new.
Waters as pure as the light beams from the sun.
The tree leans to the left side to shade,
The flowers below and protect them from the weather.
Leaves growing greener than on the other side.
With the tombstone that reads "Here lies Tim and Heather."
The hills with the wind whisper love songs in the ears.
A sky with a brilliant faded shade begins,
Never finishes, with a continuous seeming line.
With granites of all shapes, sizes, and colors.
And with s
Wandering down, always on main street avenue,
The dreams of the many weigh heavy upon me.
Tree falling in the woods, making lots of sound.
Night begins to give you a haunt that's on cue.
Like dealing with something distant that is bound.
The darkened streets outside, the fallen lights,
Seem to reflect the time of a life come and gone.
"If it isn't real, why is it always in your dreams?"
It never really seems all great, except at heights.
This scene is a life splitting apart at the seams.
It's kind of like nothing else inside of her lives.
Yet she seems to be not at all plain, mundane.
She sits on her throne in lingerie and night g
It's what she's gotta gain,
Standing behind her door.
I sense my tension rise,
Everything seems surreal.
I just came by to offer a token of thanks.
Feeling slick and smooth like I'm on turn banks.
Whatever, better, trying never.
She's heatin' up my brain.
Never feign attraction.
Tower to the skies,
Maybe I'm floating higher.
It's known there is no chance of me spanking her thigh.
What I wouldn't give to be just like Steve Ty.
It's been a long time just to see her.
Whatever, never, trying better.
The time never finishes before I do.
Maybe there is a chance,
This message seems awry.
I have another gift,
Got to make sure I fil
The night is cloudy and I can't think all day.
This all seems to be taking function and form.
Spend the weekend at his place after a cig,
The burning clover taste and cinnamon smell.
Should we see life as it is or try re-frame?
The night tolls on longer and comes with a price,
The moon is a pale white for an embrace.
I don't see the reason for flickering lights.
It's still the dawning of my early plights.
I still remember,
(Words were as empty as the promises,)
The taste you'd bring,
(Of life being a kind and loving place.)
That spicy ember,
(All of our philosophies and late night queries.)
And our almost fling.
(You'll never
Don't Freeze Up Inside. by Stu-the-Swordsman, literature
Literature
Don't Freeze Up Inside.
He's gotten lost again,
The man with all the plans.
There seems to be another sting,
I have lived through it before.
Leave the spikes in your wrists and no way home.
You leave no choice left and you're gonna be sore.
Digitalize and mesmerize,
Dream of the future and forget about all that past.
There's a book for you,
That has all the story points,
But you've got to get to away from the first page.
"It's high time for a walk on the real side."
'Member the trip home from Angels?
After we had left from the Blues Beach,
And there was Walter with his slang.
Don't forget that amazing fortune cookie.
After that night, all there was,
Blinded by the sun in summer time,
Trapped, a cage with no wings,
Sitting, clutching on to sanity.
What other words can I say?
Must be the funky smell of rubber,
And this bind across my chest.
I can't follow as I write this down,
Don't even know the right phrase.
My marbles dissipate with my rhymes.
Hard to enjoy little things.
Think you know how hard I try my best,
At least that's how you portray.
Normally, I'd be singing along.
Donald's voice sings through my head.
Absence has affected my psyche.
Guess I'll just wait, burning out.
Can feel myself getting nearer.
Wait for "summer by the sea."
Mental eye watches for any sig
An astral eccentric and worlds apart,
Seek out her eyes as she glances away.
I can't cope, in a way I can't explain,
Feels like the sun at the end of the day.
Watching the stem of my run-away brain.
Who's this dumb-ass who says he isn't a fool?
This man that claims that he doesn't need school.
Doesn't he know that it's not for three?
Can he see if his mind isn't free?
Quirkiness in her motions and in her demeanor,
Can't seem to find what it is that I treasure.
A maybe here and the no chance of there,
What can I do when I run out of these pleasures?
Those of which are delicate, gentle, and fair.
But this tool still insists on fin
And I'll Keep On Wanderin' by Stu-the-Swordsman, literature
Literature
And I'll Keep On Wanderin'
There are countless minds that all,
But travel through a road less seen.
As though they follow given paths,
Around a coffin chauffer cab.
It may be just me, but I,
I find a tree resisting wind,
My roots hold firm against the strength,
Of tornadoes that never form again.
Chameleons that are my friends,
Seem to sway and change within,
And mounted on on a tree top filled,
With apples good and bad.
You can change my heart, but you,
Can never find to restrict my mind.
It wanders when there is no breeze,
When even if there is no land,
You know, and I'll keep on wanderin'.
Though the fabrics may be red,
Light's all the colors in on
He was carried in on the silk stretcher.
As unconcious as he was, the pain wouldn't end.
It looked like there was something wrong with him,
But what it was doctors couldn't find.
He had walked in the bar of clowns,
Where he always drank one too many cloudy skies.
It seemed he had been encountered earlier that day,
He had planted his friend, and his wife disappeared.
Life left him on the hospital entryway,
Where he could take back all his troubles.
But it appears too much height got in his path,
As he stumbled down staircases to blackened silk.
The priest examined his head and his eyes,
While women abolitionists checked each of h
She told me that she'd never love me,
Nothing done was ever satisfying.
I looming darkness to her soft white,
And for that have always been lying.
Whilst being barraged on the head,
By the gavel of her offset mind,
She consistently stabbed my crushing heart,
From back and forth sides, never kind.
Always eeriness in her passing ways.
The way she'd act when I came 'round.
In some kind of clouds,
As my own raindrops fall,
And fuming heat surrounds.
With the eyes that roll,
As people pass on by.
Their faces drone and dull.
Always eeriness in her passing ways.
Why she was I haven't found.
The Gemini in her never froze,
The time
What You See Is Not Me by Stu-the-Swordsman, literature
Literature
What You See Is Not Me
You see, I'm a baby blue child,
That I can see and hear and cry.
Born evil intentions and wild.
You see, I'm bringing you under,
All I've done is shedding tears,
Tearing you heart asunder.
You can see what you want in the mirrors.
You see, I am surrounded,
In my own glass absorbing box,
Everything said isn't sounded.
Guessed I steal from those who give,
So I can only breathe for me.
I am the only one who lives.
You expect that to be true?
You think I'm your winter skies?
You think I'm you rainy cloud?
Can you see that what surrounds you,
Is what causes you to frown?
You frame me for all your problems.
But you see,
You can
Current Residence: In my mind Favourite genre of music: My opinion of good music MP3 player of choice: iPod Favourite cartoon character: Brian Griffin Personal Quote: I see things in a different way. I don't expect you to understand.