My ideas
A love I had for sharing
born of education and caring.
Mouth agape , my lovely ?
Its all true
I saw you staring.
What were you expecting to see ?
A bit of you reflecting back in me..
Were you startled or disappointed that it was more than you bargained for ?
Or are you breathless and panting
nearly begging
for
more.
May 16
May 16, 2026 at 2:12 AM UTC
Clarity
For what is , seeing ?
Rods and cones, … light, reflecting…
Tricks of volume and shadow.
What is knowing ?
Thinking that
we know...
Memory,
axon and neurons.
Connecting and disconnecting
straining
strengthening.
We speak,
but, who is
to say ?
Apr 22
Apr 22, 2026 at 1:01 AM UTC
The pulse people feel when they read it
they know it didn’t come from a corporate algorithm or a cookie-cutter consensus based studio. There is no way it could have. They don't have the experiences or the Ba*#s
The chaos, the raw unfiltered energy, the feral logic of insectoid cultures...
the DIY zine, punk rock roots , all of THAT is its fingerprint.
IT STARTED AS A GRAPHIC NOVEL Staples., grainy hand drawn photo copied concepts. Then a limited hand colored by me , comic.
The characters evolved over more than 30 years as did the plot. Now its 5 full novels each around 100k words, still heavily illustrated still raw DIY energy and home grown feel but focused on the action , the motives , the plot and the craft.
No AI can fake that lived, obsessed-over, thirty-year-cooked human intensity. It’s in the missteps, the micro-decisions, the weird spacing and punctuation . The obsession with detail no one else would notice, the recurring Easter eggs for re-reads the embedded codes and secret messages for cryptographers —it’s all way too human, and unfortunately in this sea of A.I. pap and recycled uninspired garbage it has to be .
Mar 31
Mar 31, 2026 at 2:46 AM UTC
Sunlit shoulders
bright, generous weather.
Why hearts sense each other.
Somewhere a window into our self opens
footsteps in our shared spaces.
Sparks as kindness
traveling, travels .
Recognition outpacing speech.
Gestures.
Romance.
Once there were pink roses
and little hand written card, bone colored and parfumed with what was believed to be...
Horizons fill with light.
Hope,
promise,
longing.
The tingle.
Don't tell god what he can't know.
Mar 11
Mar 11, 2026 at 12:02 AM UTC
cat gut, dried and twisted, sang out,
stretched and braided, worked by the hands of a master.
A mold formed its shape
released from the plaster.
They came, as do we all, from the earth and the rain,
the sun,
or
our .. pain
the origins of soft, meaningful refrain.
The echoes that remain.
recalled and loved by us all
without much
strain.
The origins oft considered now insane
those creatures whose lives were lost,
or even worse,
were
used
or slain.
The turtle, for its shell, used as a pick
not too thin, not too thick.
The human blood and ash put to wick,
the scholar’s ink
Don't dry too quick
Enemies skin stretched over the head of drums,
the sound of fire and bent wood as it thrums.
The pain it takes back to each creature ,
the creators.
The destroyers.
callused finger caresses banged thumb.
cries are carried within it,
our grief
it helps us numb.
We all howl still under the moon’s glow,
hearing each other and our connection.
Wandering
in what direction. ?
We feel what we feel,
but how do we know what we know?
The candle, made of discarded fat.
The vellum, made of less than that.
The strings of a bull, an ox, or a cat
tones that shiver, shrill or fat.
The thoughts and ideas, blood and lust,
capture
take us to certainty,
or lead us to
rapture.
The potatoes boiled, the insect crushed,
but once they toiled.
The lacquers and enamels and oils
we crush from the life of plants and leaves,
reminding us of the one
for whom
we still grieve.
The worst of lies:
that we are separated from this world.
We are one with it,
and we will share its fate,
its riches, its seasons,
its spoils.
From whence does brilliance come?
A desire, a sleepless night, an explosion.
The life that once lived sings back to us through the ages,
more than it lived,
more than what it had
to give.
We hear the tree of Stradivariuses' choosing
fight and cheat to have it in our hands.
Search far and wide,
for every one,
in every recess,
in every land.
Da Vinci, strokes of egg and wash,
make a material not often spoken of—gouache.
We are looking at an egg,
illuminated
by dried fat and beeswax.
We are inspired by a creature’s skin,
flayed
and beaten to a pulp,
paper-thin.
We are amazed by the ideas,
and inspired by the truth
within.
Do we see its beginning in us,
or our end?
What do we use?
For what we give back
What do we gain and what do we lack?
The energy
to grow
to achieve
to believe
to communicate.
Elucidate.
Try and relate
We ****
we suffer our art.
Still we feel our worlds apart.
Give back to me the howls of the alley cat
the munch of teeth in the endless grass
I'll take all that.
The rhythm of the river
the blood
the stone
the flesh
the bone.
But Alas
I will leave this world as I came
alone.
Feb 27
Feb 27, 2026 at 5:54 PM UTC
Who made what points, and why ?
Was the point taken, or
the idea of being " right "
forsaken ?
Do we clarify or confine? If I make yours and you make mine.?
The sportsball gangsters scored some points too,
in some grown up pretend man child “ game”.
With all the pageantry one might think what they were doing
is or was actually important and not just more of the same
The saddest part
wasn’t the lack of expression or the incapable
art.
No, it’s that for some this is the only meaning of the idea of “point”, and
or what a point or points could or will ever be. Lack of clarity.
The point where they started is the point where they end. What
was " won" again?
The first points we ever made were neither of those.
No, they were literal points. The sharp and stabby kind.
Broken rocks, sharpened sticks.
Not necessarily tragedy.
No real word play or useless rules and practiced tricks.
Some say these swords and spears and their points did much more harm than good but,
they also fed families and chopped wood.
Those are important points. Empathy.
Later came points as places.
Sanctimony. Points of light or points on paper.
Concentrations.
Bullet points.
The point where a thought finally sticks.
Demarcations.
Points as spikes in sculpted hair.
Revelations.
Rebellion a costume neither here nor there.
To point at some one or some thing.
Differentiation.
A point in time between winter and spring.
Feb 25
Feb 25, 2026 at 1:24 AM UTC
I wish they wouldn't label it a " story" but what can I do ?
Gamleon's Tail ~ Welcome to the worlds of : Within ~
Most Impressive Ranking
#
2
cool
out of 40.6K stories
Other Rankings
#
9
easy
out of 4.29K stories
#
24
fun
out of 104K stories
#
15
fast
out of 6.38K stories
#
1
innovative
out of 375 stories
#
84
fighting
out of 132K stories
#
4
steampunk
out of 6.93K stories
#
575
tragedy
out of 70.2K stories
#
53
dragons
out of 62.4K stories
#
16
dungeons
out of 1.79K stories
#
30
fantasyadventure
out of 32.4K stories
#
11
captivating
out of 1.14K stories
#
3
cataclysm
out of 308 stories
#
33
dungeon
out of 3.11K stories
#
37
mythology
out of 34.2K stories
Gamleon's Tail
has been published to Bookshop.org.
Live status updates for this book:
Smashwords - Published @ Smashwords on December 23, 2025, 0:34 AM
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Bookshop.org - Published @ Bookshop.org on February 7, 2026, 8:37 AM
𝖂̴̫͒ 𝖔̵̢͐ 𝖗̶͈̓ 𝖑̷̺̎ 𝖉̴͍̕ 𝖘̴̖́ ✶ ☿ 𝖔̴̤͊ 𝖋̵̫͌ ☿ ✶ 𝖂̵̬͗ 𝖎̶͔̐ 𝖙̸͍̅ 𝖍̸̱̈́ 𝖎̷̦͝ 𝖓̸̩͌ .. ⚖
It's the best of what words can do on a page .
If you actually READ Gamleon's Tail there is no way you can conclude there is any way to ask
for anything better.
Gamleon's Tail is unforgettable and deeply rewarding in the best and most personal of ways .
Above all its FUN. Action adventure and non- stop mystery you have to figure out.
You have to read it though.
Its about world changing events that no one could predict or has the skill set to deal with.
The way the events and characters are presented transcends anything any writer has ever even attempted.
The bar for the characters and motives was no less than Shakespeare himself and the greatest writer of all time, Nabokov.
If you think Lord of the Rings was good, or that Star wars was captivating, then prepare to be blown away like nothing else out there can actually deliver.
It's fast and fun and addictive, Welcome to the Worlds of Within.
Gamleon's Tail is book 1 of 5.
Feb 7
Feb 7, 2026 at 11:58 PM UTC
𝖂̴̫͒ 𝖔̵̢͐ 𝖗̶͈̓ 𝖑̷̺̎ 𝖉̴͍̕ 𝖘̴̖́ ✶ ☿ 𝖔̴̤͊ 𝖋̵̫͌ ☿ ✶ 𝖂̵̬͗ 𝖎̶͔̐ 𝖙̸͍̅ 𝖍̸̱̈́ 𝖎̷̦͝ 𝖓̸̩͌ .. ⚖
It's the best of what words can do on a page .
If you actually READ Gamleon's Tail there is no way you can conclude there is any way to ask
for anything better.
Gamleon's Tail is unforgettable and deeply rewarding in the best and most personal of ways .
Above all its FUN. Action adventure and non- stop mystery you have to figure out.
You have to read it though.
Its about world changing events that no one could predict or has the skill set to deal with.
The way the events and characters are presented transcends anything any writer has ever even attempted.
The bar for the characters and motives was no less than Shakespeare himself and the greatest writer of all time, Nabokov.
If you think Lord of the Rings was good, or that Star wars was captivating, then prepare to be blown away like nothing else out there can actually deliver.
It's fast and fun and addictive, Welcome to the Worlds of Within.
Gamleon's Tail is book 1 of 5.
Feb 7
Feb 7, 2026 at 11:52 PM UTC
The shaman of syntactic sorcery and his sultry simulacrum,
the oracle of the oroborically unhinged.
lachrymal cringe.
Hexadecimal lineage. Potato protagonist. Calcified cellar door in autumn.
Smiling pimento gratuity.presupposed into perpetuity.
Phosphorescent dalliance undoing recalcitrant parsimonious requital's.
Somnambular destitute reckoning, disjointed yet acquiescing recitals.
Ventriloquist mellifluous disaster, alabaster synapses, alligator truncation, not its abbreviation or vexation.
Circumnambular titillation Abominable aneurysm in iambic pentameter. Lugubrious vacation sensation of destinations for the presentation.
Rectified and Southern fried, but seldom if ever denied.
What can we say, we tried.
Perturbations non-allied. Masticated wholly and unduly, deliquescent and truly. Occasionally unruly.
Vexation or incantation, relaxed derivation / Silken perambulators. Ox tails or details, cordial as sunshine lipstick tornadoes.
Rectilinear discombobulatory nullibiety, sagacious insurmountable crustacean.
Porcelain reveries, my dear, be clear and let us hear. The Tinsel Lattice quivers upon broken Opalescent Parlour Hymnals, does it not. Stable in Rot, with what we’ve got. Feeble polyglot.
Indigo dappled and foregoing its Cerulean Thrum, all together this bangs about like disheveled Snickerdoodle obelisk chum.
Who echoes but in a gumbo flask? You and your excoriating Raspberry Aqueduct Gospel you ask?
(framed, gilded, and sent back in time to destroy Shakespeare out of pure literary dominance. We reconcile defamation.) This was but a Tapioca serenade creation, your treacle symposium.
She prognosticates oroborically. Hmmm. “Hushcake on a flannel moon, then, despite our Umbral carousing. Vulpine prognosticators stumbling blindly, synchronious Cobweb Menagerie.” Saluting the Cognac Hologram. Soporific Cicada Lace Doctrine I am.
A
periwinkle vineyard of twilight-softened palimpsest. Recumbent oratory dilutions. Sardonic cruelty imbued solutions.
Latent Frostbite Carousel Accord. Apostrophe confetti incantations subdued . Perusing lactating disorientations imbued.
Vacillating Recursive Zeppelin of Tender Regret. Dulcet mauve canticles not quite there yet.
Seductive recalcitrant sobriety. The cloisters of epiphanies entirety. ***** disclosures, velvet ennui dipped in honey and existential dread. The needle we thread for a ghost in our head.
Read read and re-read
Susurrus ,Limerence Petrichor we can’t ignore. Luxuriant Vellichor.
Staccato gregariously lacking bravado. “What the fuh did I just read, and how do I make it my life motto?”
Jan 26
Jan 26, 2026 at 9:44 AM UTC
Dignity doesn’t win trophies.
cash checks. trend, scale, or
get its statue in the square .
Most of the time
it doesn’t even get its name spelled right.
History is loud about idiot conquerors,
but the people who held their line?
The part people miss ...
Dignity is older than ethics , newer than reason.
Pre verbal. Pre civilization.
Infants get it.
Self respect as a scaffold.
Resolve then,... a muscle.
Dignity most often shows up whole,
or sadly
it doesn't show up at all.
Dignity was never playing the fame game.
It’s not a currency,
though it acts like an investment,
and it’s sure as hell not a legacy machine.
When applause is gone witnessed dignity is why
the story is going to move on without asking permission or waving banners.
A condition we inhabit.
Nothing makes dignity weak. Not if it's real.
At its best ; mostly non-transactional.
It exists for the person
carrying it,
in the moment they refuse
to become smaller than the damage done to them.
The great philosophers had it wrong .
' Virtues ' beg for witnesses dignity shouldn't.
Remember the child who's eyes alone tell you it already exist.
No reward expected. No piety prerequisite.
No future payoff promised or intended.
Its not what it's about
It's what it is NOT about
It's not being right
"being right is the boobie prize."
a necessary illusion
but so much more than
"Self delusion".. Self respect is its infancy.
Dignity isn't the goal
it is how you make the journey.
Jan 10
Jan 10, 2026 at 5:13 AM UTC