Staring at the rivers flowing uphill. Warped and wrapped. Nothing to be seen. Sightless. Watching the moving wall. Sitting here, waiting for it to fall.

The cream wants the milk and the money. Dangers of credo and credulity. The sheep and the shepherds, all look for the head. Is it essential for one to roll?

Flaming chariots with just the circles. Kids climbing on the grail of others. Dreams of balance chased with chaos. My light is off or am I blind?

So luring to be the critic. Melancholy. Broken legendary grins. When the rainbow gets divided, some will try to recover the shades. The colors are faded and stained, and I just wish we were colorblind.

Here's something that is as inane as your post:

He took his vorpal sword in hand:

Long time the manxome foe he sought—

So rested he by the Tumtum tree,

And stood awhile in thought.

What the hel_l are you on (about)?

My bloodpressure has never been as low since the massive influx of newbies.

Just the thoughts of a dude stuck in a room close to Din Daeng.

Sadly I'll never be as insane as Lewis Carol. My nonsense got some sense (I think, well at least while I was writing it) but no style. His is stylish nonsense.

That's OK, I appreciate your point, it echoes this by Brazilian songwriter Tom Jobim, it relates to the song "Waters of March":

(from Wikipedia)

Composer-guitarist Oscar Castro-Neves[3] relates that Jobim told him that writing in this kind of stream of consciousness was his version of therapy and saved him thousands in psychoanalysis bills.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Waters_of_March#Trivia

I think I will try doing some of that.

I didn't read past the first few words of his post but leave the guy alone. If he wants to ramble on then let him.

Nothing worse than a rouge bottle of Sing for bending the mind.

This seems to be fairly topical poetry for the times.

They're picking up the prisoners

All putting them in a pen

And all she wants to do is dance,dance

Rebels have been rebels since I don't know when

And all she wants to do is dance

Molotov cocktail,the local drink

And all she wants to do is dance

They mix them up right in the kitchen sink

And all she wants to do is dance

Crazy people walking around with blood in their eyes

And all she wants to do is dance,dance,dance

Wild-eyed pistol wavers who ain't afraid to die

And all she wants to do is

All she wants to do is dance,dance

And make romance

She can't feel the heat coming off the street

She wants to party

She wants to get down

All she wants to do

All she wants to is dance

Well the government,bugged the men's room

In the local disco lounge

All she wants to do is dance,dance

To keep the boys from selling

All the weapons they can scrounge

All she wants to do is dance

But that don't keep the boys

From making a buck or two

And all she wants to do is dance,dance

They still can sell the army

All the drugs that they can do

And all she wants to do is

All she wants to do is dance

And make romance

Well,we barley made the airport

For the last plane out

As we taxied down the runway

I could hear the people shout they said:

"Don't come back here again.Yankee"

But if I do I'll bring back more money

Cause all she wants to do is dance

And make romance

Never mind the heat

Coming off the street

She wants to party

She wants to get down

All she wants to do is

All she wants to do is dance

And make romance

All she wants to do is dance

Depressed people always write poems.

Jack and Jill, went up the hill for a bit of hanky panky.

He only gave her 50 baht, he must have been a Yanky.

Edited May 18, 201016 yr by BigWheelMan

Yes, writing is therapeutic, but coherent writing is more therapeutic than incoherent nonsense. Lewis Carroll's nonsense is perfectly coherent, and if you want to write stream of consciousness, I suggest you look at Virginia Woolf's To the Lighthouse first. Like a stream it flows, but the process is coherent and logical and the objects of her consciousness are real, not fantastic.

After relocating to a more secure location. I am reading my writing again. It was a good way to keep my mind focused on something else than the sounds of gunfire and explosions coming from outside. It mades, and to some extent still makes sense to me, even if it is impossible for anyone to decipher my insanity.

Staring at the rivers flowing uphill. (looking at the international media reporting the news form Thailand back to us) Warped and wrapped. (biased and packaged) Nothing to be seen. (no real news) Sightless. (blind) Watching the moving wall. (watching the TV screen) Sitting here, waiting for it to fall. (Waiting for a safe way to get out of this room)

The cream wants the milk and the money. (the elite wants everything... the milk and the money made out of selling the milk) Dangers of credo and credulity. (dangers of ideology) The sheep and the shepherds, all look for the head. (The followers and the leaders all look for the chief) Is it essential for one to roll? (A head to roll... Is it essential for somebody to be killed)

Flaming chariots with just the circles (tires) Kids climbing on the grail of others. (kids climbing on the beliefs of their parents) Dreams of balance chased with chaos. My light is off or am I blind? (Is it that I don't understand or simply that I cannot see what is obvious)

So luring to be the critic. (So tempting to judge) Melancholy. Broken legendary grins. (the famous Thai smile is now broken) When the rainbow gets divided, some will try to recover the shades. (when the people divide themselves in "colored" groups) The colors are faded and stained, and I just wish we were colorblind.

I know... it was styleless and didn't make sense. But it allowed me to be focused on your replies, instead of thinking about explosions and gunfight.

Take care everybody.

Generals gathered in their masses

Just like witches at black masses

Evil minds that plot destruction

Sorcerers of death's construction

In the fields the bodies burning

As the war machine keeps turning

Death and hatred to mankind

Poisoning their brainwashed minds

Oh lord yeah!

After relocating to a more secure location. I am reading my writing again. It was a good way to keep my mind focused on something else than the sounds of gunfire and explosions coming from outside. It mades, and to some extent still makes sense to me, even if it is impossible for anyone to decipher my insanity.

Staring at the rivers flowing uphill. (looking at the international media reporting the news form Thailand back to us) Warped and wrapped. (biased and packaged) Nothing to be seen. (no real news) Sightless. (blind) Watching the moving wall. (watching the TV screen) Sitting here, waiting for it to fall. (Waiting for a safe way to get out of this room)

The cream wants the milk and the money. (the elite wants everything... the milk and the money made out of selling the milk) Dangers of credo and credulity. (dangers of ideology) The sheep and the shepherds, all look for the head. (The followers and the leaders all look for the chief) Is it essential for one to roll? (A head to roll... Is it essential for somebody to be killed)

Flaming chariots with just the circles (tires) Kids climbing on the grail of others. (kids climbing on the beliefs of their parents) Dreams of balance chased with chaos. My light is off or am I blind? (Is it that I don't understand or simply that I cannot see what is obvious)

So luring to be the critic. (So tempting to judge) Melancholy. Broken legendary grins. (the famous Thai smile is now broken) When the rainbow gets divided, some will try to recover the shades. (when the people divide themselves in "colored" groups) The colors are faded and stained, and I just wish we were colorblind.

I know... it was styleless and didn't make sense. But it allowed me to be focused on your replies, instead of thinking about explosions and gunfight.

Take care everybody.

Thanks for the explanation. And you take care too.

Thanks for the explanation. And you take care too.

I hope it makes some sense now.

The dust is now under the carpet. Will there be an effort to forgive?

All too fast in this to forget. Now that we don't really feel captive.

Heavy is the climate. The scar here is massive.

How many regrets? While figuring the motives.

All I have left, naive hopes not to relive.