Be careful and then have the time of your life.


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The Jews say Never Again for a reason.


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I think I found an ocean.


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I have met far better people, but I don't gossip about fictional villains.


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Huh baby whats wrong?


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It was sex to him.


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Little green men projectile vomit and it's a wet dream for the love team.  Suddenly it happens.


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Welcome to my sky.


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A guy with a brain?


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The world is in peril

So nothing happens

Just some good intentions

So you knock some teeth out

Shout loud in your glory

All around they scream

You feel it in your body

Got to break this part

Then slip into the past

It seemed like a joke

But the bones were broke

The bank was not though

You had run for the money

And tried to keep it funny

It looked good

And was.




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NOTHING CHANGES.

Then came more shadows

Of old beings with four arms

Once a powerful people

Now lost in the shadows

From their lust for power

Came hideous abuses

Now there are stones

And nobody remembers

Even during holidays.


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It only will get colder this summer.


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Let us begin yet again.


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Imagine something coming soon.


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You are not amused.


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Spoiler!

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And then a miracle happened!


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Oh the lost are so far on the mossy wall

Painted like moss and neutron stars

And love will do wild things

For a day or two a thing for you

And I am coming down

It all feels so good 

She touches the liquid sounds

Surrounding the jelly of her mounds

Then the wall came tumbling down

Down

Down 

Down.

Smashing far upon oh ground

Grinding the granite 

Again and again

Friends came


And went.


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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.