BILL PAXTON HAS PASSED AWAY
HE WAS IN THE ORIGINAL TERMINATOR
NOT STAR WARS NOT DIE HARD
NOT EVEN THE MIGHTY GLADIATOR

HIS CAREER WAS OVER 40 YEARS
A LOT OF HIS FILMS WERE MADE
ALIENS TWISTER AND TITANIC
NONE OF THEM WERE IN THE SHADE


HE WILL GO DOWN AS AN ACTOR OF NOTE
APPEARING IN MEMORABLE ROLES
HE WAS A GREAT ACTOR
WHO'S STARRING CREDITS
WILL NEVER LOOSE THERE SOUL

Whether one would wish well,
Well wishing with water,
When writing wrong words,
Would weaken another,
I sadly suggest,
A short sentence sees sun,
Sometimes silly sounds,
Start slowly with one.

Time is never measured by seconds
Nor by how many years passed
Luck is too wild to catch
And love can be easily crashed
When I'm just an oblivious kid
Waiting for Christmas that never lasts

Breeze is a sign of good times to come
Unless winds grow into a twister
No matter how sweet the water is
When it reaches the sea it becomes a blister
I wish this year to have a warm heart
For this life is a waste if it's all just winter

To who, to whom, to you, that's 'whom'. When Whom is ******* and ******* is you. How do you unscrew the ***** when you are ******* by whom. You unscrew yourself.

an oncoming twister.
disaster?
you know, that thing people warned you about.
a flash of lightning and a thunderbolt.
strong gales that blow you away.

the weather report has already warned you to escape while you still could.
but even if you should, you didn't leave.
then, you get caught up in the storm.
the strong passion that swept you off your feet;
the violent explosion of fiery and icy emotions meeting.

then suddenly,
the tornado that was your love affair passes.
disappears; like nothing ever disturbed the peace.
you are scared: you have been caught up in the twister all your life.
the sudden calm seems ominous -- is this an oracle given by the heavens?
suddenly you wished you were caught up in a disaster of another kind.

MY HEAD IS A TWISTER IT
SWEEPS UP EVERYTHING
I CARE ABOUT AND DEST
      ROYS IT DISPLACING
        EVERYTHING AND
          MAKING A MESS
             WHY ARE MY
                THOUGHTS
                SO DESTRUC
                  TIVE WHY
                    MUST IT
                    ALWAYS
                    HURT TO
                     EXIST I
                      HATE
                       THE
                       TOR
                        NA
                        DO
                         TH
                          AT
                           IS
                           M
                            Y
                            M
                             I
   ­                         N
                            D

She is a breeze,
gently wafts in,
in the fiery climes
she quickly transforms,
arousal of passion
makes her
a whirlwind fierce,
her spirited twists and turns
were beyond prediction
her predilection
to dominate becomes
so insistent
she turned to a twister
had an unrestricted run
the giant redwood
was uprooted in no time