Saturday, March 20, 2010

Write, read, and dream.

When the prose goes, nothing flows. Nothing sooths the sick, bleeding heart. I'm not too smart; writing on the fly, but I must try. My emotions are running high as I hear the bells of Poe. I can't rest until I've done my best. Dear reader I may be yoCheck Spellingung, but I feel very old at the moment. There isn't much rest in sleeping, and very little peace from pain. This is the only personal note you'll receive from me. I'm attempting to write two short stories to publish. Why? I once had a dream in which Stephen King was hitting me on the head with one of his Novels. "Write before the words float away!" I have some strange dreams.

I wrote this while chasing my tale, still haven't caught the Frockin thing. Opps, I think I let a little geek out.
Always my friends,
Lone Wolf @ unscripted

Thursday, March 18, 2010

Writers' block

What a shock! I've got writers' block. There's no stock in my store. The poet and the play write are having a fight. The door to Reveries' maze is locked and my key won't work. As for the play write, he's being a bigger jerk. He teases me with bits of gore while I sleep, yet when day breaks not one image takes form. However; I am a faded rose so sometimes... That's just how the story goes.

Saturday, March 13, 2010

For Tony Moran

The song I sing, the prayer I whisper into the night...Tony. My Eldorado with a cause; never pauses for himself. My inspiration and my hide away. The friend I carry with me through the storm. A safe and warm place to be, embedded in my memory. I'm forever wishing for his happiness. I shall always thank God for setting free such an important part of me. Tony the person who opened the door, the reason I strive to be more.

Miss you as I always will and that's all there is.
Lone Wolf @ unscripted

Wednesday, March 10, 2010

My friend California

California's sky is bright day and night. The nights Velvet spotlight whispers of peace. Days of playful color call for joy, and put on a sunset show. I'm sorry that I had to leave you my friend, it wasn't easy to let go. California you imprinted your beauty within my heart so we could never part. I miss the feel of your sandy skin, and the warmth of your breezy voice. I can't help but think of what could have been had I stayed with the artist California. You the painter, passionate writer can't fight the beauty of her golden face. California laughs in waves. My friend California perhaps knowing I was lonely gave me a gift in a man named Tony Moran. I will never cease to crave the comfort of both cherished friends.

Lone Wolf @ unscripted

Monday, March 8, 2010

Sea Charactor description1

A person dressed all in blue walks down a narrow stony street. One looking at nothing in our world, blurred of thought. Talented like a bird in song yet feeling like the words are wrong. This person is jaded trying to forget closed gated hearts, of those desired who chose to part. A person of dimmed confidence whispering in the western wind: I need a friend, my love is free. This person, a faded rose. Walking towards the gold painted sky. Wishing to start anew the once life full of of nothing but blue. Be bold in emotion or you could be the person in blue like a wave lapping in sea.

Saturday, March 6, 2010

For my own rock star

Mr. guitar man plays with style. Mr. guitar works his fingers to the bone. The notes take him to a place where he's not alone. He gets better with every rift he lets free. In a class of his own, he hones his gift. Leave the man be, he's playin from his soul. Listen to him rock, and you won't want to roll. He can play it soft make the tone flow or he can play it loud, you never know. The best part is, I don't need a ticket to his show. Well, Mr. guitar man he helped me grow.

Friday, March 5, 2010

Maze of the Mind

In a maze created by a poet named Reverie you can walk along three paths: Desire, fright, and mystery. The path of desire leads to inviting beaches, with oceans clear and blue. A sunset sky just for your eye, a warm and gentle wind. Happy people call out to you, everyone wants to be your friend. This scene shimmers into fright seemingly the end. Fright is the trickster, a blood stained moon. Your mind fills up with a cold dark place. Every cruel goon chasing and taunting; bringing to life all things twisted. Your vision then becomes misted. You go another rout but are hindered by doubt. What is this? you shout. It is me reverie, you are part of my poem. You give me the lines while I write the scenes. This is nothing but poetic play, threaded from thoughts stored away. They will be gone come light of day. The sleeping mind holds much history so step carefully along the path of mystery. How do you know so much about this maze? Dear traveler I am reverie, can't you see? You know as much as me. Fiction material copy written.

Thursday, March 4, 2010


I think God tried to cancel out females, the chromosomes are xx. God: Bad idea, erase erase! Male Chromosomes are xy. No wonder they get confused.