Creative In Ways Unseen

Beneath the young sapling, amongst the slides and the swings, the young innocent tots frolicked with joyfulness, the weight of the world of their shoulders for that brief fifteen minutes.

My deranged uncle Bernard loves to entrap pale grey artic foxes in the frigid Greenland tundra.

Rain on a tin roof sounds like the rage of machine gunfire as the first ammo of the day is emptied into the enemy.

Dawn is the pesky alarm clock of nature.
Midnight is a crow, perched on the horizon.
The moon is the glistening of a ring tossed into a dreary sea.
A protective house sheltered me from my sadness.
A shady cloud slowly stalked me.
A laughable monkey swings on a joke.
An obnoxious cell phone chimed in with its opinion.
She is beautifully hideous.
The night is a silent speech.
I slept with my restlessness.
She is peaceful in her anger.
It is unintelligent to be so smart.
Music is my break from the extraordinary plainness.
Music is my subconscious soundtrack.