Each treasure chest hiding fools gold

Key opens to creepy coins untold

Speak now or forever hold you piece

Try a different key

The key to the door

Ah so the potion has you too small

Or to small to contain the situation

But in a clever fox is an answer

A simple elegant one

Perhaps to easy

To be real

I never think the easy way took me far

And my dreams eventually lead to a giant door

Guarded by a giant with a battle axe

And a little goblin in his head

To fun he said

To fun

The Goblin King is in the Tower

Clock is moving every hour.
Posted by at No comments:
Hello lamp post

What you doing

I come to see the flowers growing

Ain't you got no love for me

Feeling goofy

Feeling goofy

All is lonely

Watching flowers as they're growing

De la de la de da

Feeling goofy.


Posted by at No comments:
The tempest 

 Can not topple a house a cards

 Poker is being played

 Strait faces are understood

 Suddenly a good person appears

 It is Robin Hood

 Giving as any fictional character could

 And his arrow fly's in the night

 To make it alright

 That all is good and fine

 Till midnight

 Then the king laughs

 And we all laugh

 And the cast of comedy central laugh

 We all had a party

 And drank very bubbly wine.
Posted by at No comments:
The show must go on

 The players must get into position

 As the characters rehearse for the action

 So 

 Actors are ready for the excitement

 As it is so 

 That all the world is a stage

 Marvelous ain't it 

 Everyone has their entrances and exits

 Romeo did what he could

 But we all know that story good

 With blood on hands

 We all give a hand

 For that is the way that you like it

 We know we must be

 So then again 

 The show must go on

 The stage is set

 For an enthralled audience 

 Who thinks they are at a show

 And not a part of it.
Posted by at No comments:
Subscribe to: Posts (Atom)

Another A+ read, dive in! The Tall Thin Man—what a striking, enigmatic figure! Spanning posts from Warmest Winds and Magic V, he’s a towering presence (literally, over seven feet!) who strides through a patchwork of surreal scenes, blending menace, charisma, and absurdity. Let’s unpack this character and see what he’s all about. Right off the bat, he’s got this commanding aura. “To you I am like a God,” he declares in that 2019 poem, bending his knee with a jolt, reaching for the sky in a “big try” for victory. He’s not just tall and thin—he’s larger-than-life, a self-proclaimed deity with a hard edge. That violin he wields like a dark sorcerer, playing haunting melodies that seduce juries, whip crowds into frenzies, or soothe bloodied drummers—it’s his signature, a tool of power and chaos. He’s no passive bystander; he’s the puppet master, grinning under lamp posts at moths or slipping through cracks in reality. Yet there’s a restlessness to him. He’s always on the move—striding across environments, heading west to saloons, or vanishing down winding stairs past alligator bridges to munch a ham sandwich (that detail kills me—it’s so mundane yet bizarre). He’s got zeppelins and giant air balloons by 2025, suggesting he’s evolving, maybe even conquering new heights—literal and metaphorical. But for all his grandeur, he’s tied to the shadows. He emerges from them, looms in alleys, or stands as an “old convict” in the rain, bitter and less kind. Is he free, or trapped in his own myth? His interactions with others hint at duality. To some, he’s a guide—telling a poker-rich wanderer to “Go West!” or gesturing toward a glowing green door, stripping you of hat and coat like a cryptic usher. To others, he’s a terror—“your worst fear,” shattering minds, competing with unnamed rivals. Magic V’s posts toy with his nature: Devil or God? The question lingers, unanswered. He’s both, maybe—savage yet delicate, playful yet brutal. That dance with the violin, making you behave foolishly, feels like a trap you can’t resist. His world’s a feverish blend of the wild and the urban. Rabbits race, snakes slither into cities, drones mix with drums, and colors turn orange and purple in a reality-warping mashup with Bill Hole and James Bond at an “Anti Trans event” (what?). It’s chaotic, almost apocalyptic, yet he thrives in it. That 2016 “smelly city” line and the 2023 blood-soaked drumming scene suggest decay and violence, but he’s unfazed—alive, victorious, always returning with a “Ha!” like some immortal trickster. What do I make of him? The Tall Thin Man’s a force—part myth, part nightmare, part showman. He’s not just tall and thin; he’s stretched across dimensions, a lanky specter of ego and mystery. I see him as a chaotic neutral—neither wholly good nor evil, but a catalyst, stirring up whatever he touches. His violin’s the key: it’s how he bends the world, from juries to mad hatters. He’s got a touch of the Pied Piper, a dash of the Devil at the crossroads, and a whole lot of swagger. Compared to Bill Hole, he’s less human, more elemental. Bill’s a quirky everyman fumbling through absurdity; the Tall Thin Man’s the absurdity itself, orchestrating it. I’d wager he’s what Bill might fear—or secretly admire.