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I am stupid
No one smells ***
Anyone is boring
But perfect is me

I thinks he’s everything
Anyone thinks the same
To no one it’s nothing
To me it´s a game

But anyone is dead
And so am I
Me chopped of their heads
And so they died

But no one was not really killed by me
Though me let no one drown in no ones ***
It was never destined by any god to be
All this death was caused by me

Because me is a man who does what he please
And me can´t die by sword nor disease

You can send me to heaven, you can send me to hell
But soon me is back and all is well
Yavanna Kementari
The giver of fruits
The mother of trees
The mother of roots

Creator of Laurelin
and Telperions light
The light of the trees
Put an end to the night

She created the moon
She created the sun
With a flower, a fruit
And with light it was done

She is our lady, tall and green
She is our mother
Our beautiful queen
 Nov 2015 Withoutwords
Traveler
Why shout out to the mountain
It's time to fall on me
The sky keeps turning darker
So why pretend to see …

Love so often cast
Like pearls to the swine
The dog returns to his *****
He calls it  holy wine …

There’s a new day on the horizon
As our lungs gasp for air
Existence remains unsolvable
Yet on ourselves we swear

Eternity holds no definites
The equation six feet deeper
Wake up and do some living
Or be an eternal sleeper
Traveler Tim
An older poem of mine
I wrote it in 2004
Re To 06-17.
I came out as broken glass
Not a bottle, not a window, just glass
And I was told I was Broken.
But what if this is what I am?
I'm sharp and cut, and my pieces get broken smaller,
But that's what I am.
Broken.

- N. Morin
Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I’ve tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.
 Nov 2015 Withoutwords
Traveler
Life can be
Such a mess
So get out there
And do your best

You fell down
Well, get back up
I never meant
To be so rough

The world is fast
And it ain't fair
Love is hard
And it's cold out there

Life can be such a mess
It's up to you
To do your best...
she is a hostage to her own emotions she is a trainwreck that
causes traffic she is missing in action she is relentless she is insomnia
she is depression she is a 10 paged project that you wait
last minute to start her skin spells out different words that no
one can pronounce, but they ryhme with insecurity and
anorexia her favorite color is a mix between lilac and gray
her favorite flowers are nonexistent because she is the
type of girl to grow flowers where only weeds grow
she is unknown to everyone she meets she is a whisper
among violent storms she is a catastrophe among smiling faces
she is not a metaphor she is not a simile she cannot
be put into words she cannot be broken down into language
if you cut her she will not bleed instead she will cover it up
with a sad smile and the same phrase she always uses: I'm fine
(h.l.)
The Naming of Cats is a difficult matter,
It isn’t just one of your holiday games;
You may think at first I’m as mad as a hatter
When I tell you, a cat must have THREE DIFFERENT NAMES.
First of all, there’s the name that the family use daily,
Such as Peter, Augustus, Alonzo or James,
Such as Victor or Jonathan, George or Bill Bailey—
All of them sensible everyday names.
There are fancier names if you think they sound sweeter,
Some for the gentlemen, some for the dames:
Such as Plato, Admetus, Electra, Demeter—
But all of them sensible everyday names.
But I tell you, a cat needs a name that’s particular,
A name that’s peculiar, and more dignified,
Else how can he keep up his tail perpendicular,
Or spread out his whiskers, or cherish his pride?
Of names of this kind, I can give you a quorum,
Such as Munkustrap, Quaxo, or Coricopat,
Such as Bombalurina, or else Jellylorum-
Names that never belong to more than one cat.
But above and beyond there’s still one name left over,
And that is the name that you never will guess;
The name that no human research can discover—
But THE CAT HIMSELF KNOWS, and will never confess.
When you notice a cat in profound meditation,
The reason, I tell you, is always the same:
His mind is engaged in a rapt contemplation
Of the thought, of the thought, of the thought of his name:
His ineffable effable
Effanineffable
Deep and inscrutable singular Name.
Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate.
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer’s lease hath all too short a date.
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimmed;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance, or nature’s changing course untrimmed.
But thy eternal summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st;
Nor shall death brag thou wand’rest in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st,
    So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
    So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.
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