This feeling I have,
I don't know,
What's worst,
Drowning in the ocean deep,
Or dying of thirst,
In the desert.

This feeling I have,
No phrasal combination,
No words could ever express,
For it beats the words,
It beats the world.

This ache of uncertainty.

Into his hundred senses of delicacy and humour, I noticed a lexicon; an enormous candy factory, filled with sweet expressions and sensitivity, luring the outrageous cabin of mine, expanding the prettiness of the English grammar, idioms, and phrasal verbs into my illiterate tiny bunch of rebellious books. I sensed a great copious number of complex poems, rich of enchanting verses, fascinating stanzas that patted on my typos gently, guiding them into a better asylum. I wandered all around his incisive vocabulary, and for a while I lost my melancholy when he sluiced my dark excursion down. I loved him with all my misery. Yes, I did.

The one who faulter
Always see the misuse of clausal
In words other folks utter
But their own level of blunder
Is beyond semantic border

When people see the Faulter
Their voice’s got to come down
I mean; they’d got to mutter
Or else he’ll out-hauled ya
And make y’all feel like defaulter

Anyway; don’t bother
He’s just a wave; I mean disturbance
Who’s trying to put you under
And make you feel like you’re smaller
With the hurting words he utter

The one who faulter
I see; you get phrasal appraisal
For those you syntactically ******
And those that you make feel like you’re worth than
And for your ballyhoo blabber

The one who faulter
Always note the mistake of others
See; the one who faulter
Always speak to impress
When others do express _ themselves __ he jest
Aiming to make them feel less

The one who faulter
I heard your first name is grammer
You’re the top gammer; infact you’re the alpha
But; how far
Is that a reason for you to see others as gamma

The one who faulter
Always put on his shoulder
You know; a linguistic hunter
With his fanatic grammer
But listen to this word-art
Fluency is not the portal
To a successful life span

Let’s put that aside
Why’d you act like you can’t commit liguicide
When none is above grammatical suicide
So, why give yourself ah heart-attack
Or pro’ly ended-up berserked

You call yourself a philosopher; I wonder
Have you win a soul over
Or it’s fun making heart sober
And de-philosophising others
But unlike them; your psych cannot put me asunder

The one who faulter
Tell me; what have you achieved
Beside you being a criticizer
Brother; don’t that make you a freak
Coz your mind state ‘s been altar

Now listen
Even scientist like newton
And others who invented interesting new thing
Don’t need your linguistic-type English
To express their point of view
Hope that concept gets to you
*
Anyway Mr Faulter
The aim of language is to understand each other
So, leave the grammatical slogan
For the linguish brother
More important; English is not the language of my ancestral father

What drips from my nose is nasal & so, the many phrases that I use
in the dark privacy of a neighbor's bedroom about noses are phrasal