For the love and passion of words

One can be stifled and intimidated by the magnanimous mind and never feel accomplished enough to express oneself.

That is the design of the masters of the glass bead game who at the pinnacle of their narcissism are found hanging another piece of paper on the wall to award their accomplishment.

I do not disrespect certification but only dream of a world where the paper you hang on your wall did not equate to a right to life or opportunity. I only dream to be free from corruption, nepotism, and the clandestine passage of rights granted to the privileged.

There are critics on every corner to criticise your grammar and completely miss the point. Critics are as numerous as roaches in garbage.

See all my novels on My other blogs, TJ Ginn - Dream Ecstasy - Birdies online Home web site - TJ GINN

Available now on Amazon - He never intended to be the most infamous man in history and now he is on the run just because he was trying to improve life for everyone. -The Praus Probability- a new novel by TJ Ginn

Another 5 Star review for my novel 'For the Love of Annie Dupree' - get it today on Amazon


Be sure to see 'Professor Brainstein Presents -Physics 101- on YouTube

Monday, January 2, 2012


Consider the air, the substance, the thing we know so well but never see.

Air rushes through our fingers and blusters in our hair; it is soft, just soft as soft can only be.

Upon the air rides the fragrance of floral seduction that bees cannot resist, nor humming birds, nor butterfly nor me.

When speeding to the lungs air signals a gasp, desperate breath; could be fright; could be delight; that gasp before ecstasy.

The air welled up by the heat of a day blows ships, pushes waves, makes storms and takes lives.

The air pumped up fills balloons, whistles tunes, and at times puts rings around moons.

It’s just air, never seen, always there, always there, thanks be, always there.

But just yesterday I saw the air. This thing you cannot see.

You were walking toward me and your dress and your hair were swimming. You were the breeze. You were the soft breeze. It could not be separated from you. It could not be separated from you. The air; you were the air don’t you see? Don’t you see?

And with my eyes I breathed you in. I breathed you in.

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