Every journal I own is filled with invisible ink, waiting.
Waiting like Chuck Norris, for the action of writing!
The words are all there, written with care,
no shadows or mirrors, neither does Chuck
Norris need shadows OR mirrors.
He and the inked pages, are invisible , to the naked
eye, waiting for action. The action of putting a pen
to those words is like Chuck Norris springing across
the room or words spilling across the blank page!
Inevitable and exciting, but first a disclaimer,
so if you continue to read, as the author or poet,
I, cannot guarantee that your senses will not be
assaulted, though your imagination will be tested.
In the end who will be left standing, who will be bested
Chuck Norris or you?
Jan 30, 2013
Jan 30, 2013 at 12:25 AM UTC
Every journal I own is filled with invisible ink, waiting.
Waiting like Chuck Norris, for the action of writing!
The words are all there, written with care,
no shadows or mirrors, neither does Chuck
Norris need shadows OR mirrors.
He and the inked pages, are invisible , to the naked
eye, waiting for action. The action of putting a pen
to those words is like Chuck Norris springing across
the room or words spilling across the blank page!
Inevitable and exciting, but first a disclaimer,
so if you continue to read, as the author or poet,
I, cannot guarantee that your senses will not be
assaulted, though your imagination will be tested.
In the end who will be left standing, who will be bested
Chuck Norris or you?
Something from the lighter side, instead of the dark side.
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