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


            Out of the darkness comes fear, the evil, the cold and the cruel. Eyes stare hard in the remembrance of sight but no light is at hand to see. A presence is sensed and quickly I turn to face the direction of my fear, but I am an entity without members, no limbs, no arms and no legs.
            I exist for I am thinking and remembrance of tutor Descartes. What manor of being here am I. What mind, in what body do I think. No windows no doors, am I up, am I down, I dream a horrible dream, a dream whose end I beseech.
            Be done with me, now you let me go, you dastardly cognition, you horrible clutch, you dark and fearful dream of the evil, the cold and the cruel. Stare hard, can you see, can you see stare hard, but no light is there, no light to see. There is no light for me.
            Again I feel a sense of fear, and turn with no limbs to see. Who is there, who is there, I think to yell but no mouth portends to speak. What am I, who am I, where am I, I think that I think to think.
Weeping ensues, or the remembrance of such, I would if I could have eyes. I thrash and I fight in thoughts I take flight or remembrance of such an act.
What am I, who am I, where am I, I dream that I think that I think to think.

No comments:

Post a Comment