East west home is best,
This is home,
Almost poetry but not quite,
This other business of writing in paragraphs,
Absolutely tasking,
Needs some inspiration,
Like Afrojack and his friends in the background,
But poetry comes easy,
The lines oze out of me like love,
It's Sunday morning,
The weather is dull outside,
Music is loud in my ears,
My clean fresh Softener scented clothes,
Rest on my hammock waiting for me to fold them,
Rude shock on them,
I will just throw them in the wardrobe like they are,
As disorganized as the words in my head,
Beautiful story am about write about,
One with race cars and all,
Very clear in my head,
But putting them on paper,
Is turning out as disorganized as these clothes just about,
To land in the form they are where they should be,
The music in my ears is helping,
But today,
Black out,
Trying to force it so much will not help,
It's better to write sing or whatever,
When you are as emotional as Justine Timberlake,
With Cry Me a River,
Or Paramores,
With her broken but now mended band,
I have tried to force words onto paper,
But since 6 am and it's 8am?
It's a fun experience,
But 6am to 8am?
Time moves and when am doing something fun,
I can't notice,
We don't notice,
But 6am to 8am,
Two whole hours,
When am emotional rather abnormally happy,
Or thoroughly depressed,
These words are on paper in just less than microseconds,
Am done and no editing!
Especially when am happy,
Who cares... It's just a hobby,
Something I love doing,
The point is driven home most of the time right?
Or are you a grammar teacher?
Where is your red pen?
You want to mark on a computer screen and write,
10/10 Good Boy?
Most times when am depressed and words come out,
I give them to someone to edit them before I post them,
Mostly to fetch a compliment,
When you are unhappy you do something you are good at,
It's called fishing,
Fishing a compliment,
And just like that you have a better day,
Ten more lines before I end this,
And send it to some BlackBerry and get a compliment,
As I said this short sentences feel clean,
No paragraphs just poetry,
Pure emotion,
Got me kissed a billion times in high school,
My English teacher loved my compositions in primary school,
So much now I see why I had to write a composition everyday,
Apparently it was for his amusement,
But probably he made me good,
Practice makes perfect right?
I can't write paragraphs now,
I have written quite a number,
But I don't feel them,
You feel nice words when you pour them down,
I would write as i write,
Poetry and even in paragraphs,
With the same tone words and what not,
But what is the fun in that?
What the fun in my comfort zone?
I love adventure,
Trying new things,
It's good for my heart mind health and life,
If I leave this writing for newer writing,
Something new,
And it is not as exciting as this,
I will have this pieces to Remeber my old voice by,
I would rather look for better,
And find worse,
Rather than seat here,
And get bored out of my mind,
Ignoring the better that is out there,
Let me travel,
Let me leave this,
I will remember my roots though,
Visit them once in a while,
But understand,
I got to see the world,
See other parts of my heart,
My mind and this pen,
Probably the arranging of the unarranged clothes on my hammock,
Will be the inspiration I need to arrange my words better,
Neat them together so that their like the dress I saw,
At some shop with nice fabric I am going to buy for my baby,
It's been two hours,
6am to 8am,
And the words I want to put down refuse to get pressed,
UnCreased out on this ironing stand,
Who am I to force inspiration,
No one forces art so much,
Only a little,
So freeze these thoughts,
'paragraphs about fearless car racers'
Let me get to other things,
I will be back here,
Home but not quite home,
Since home must always change,
Put some new carpet here and there,
Change the curtains here and there,
Brave something new like Hollywood,
Yet keep tradition and roots like the land rover defender 3,
I know this might be over ten lines since I mentioned about ending,
I might have added them,
But let's be sincere,
I have actually multiplied the ten lines,
But it's better late than never,
But we are all here now,
At the end,
So why don't we let me send this as email,
To that BlackBerry I always send it to.
Bring on that compliment Sweetheart.
The End.
Its ended hasn't it?
Better late than never right?
Told ya!
