Tag Archives: Mushroom cloud

True Evil Holds a Pen


I am flirting with fire; from normality I had cold-feet. I am a kerfuffle of trouble, there’s no saving me now as I have mushroom-clouds for thought bubbles. They lacerate my world believing they killed me, I’m letting slip my dogs of war until they know me as a reformed super villain. Challenge Completed, Planet Earth; I’m spinning out-of-control, no fault of my own, I couldn’t keep hold. I’m a libertine shoulder barging my way through the captive creators; I’m writing on black paper in the dark.

No brain freeze or frisson, picking up lightening-bolts and throwing them at the pages of rapture I capture. This is merely reverie I reveal and unravel, I time-travel back and thwart all my enemies plans for me. I am no poltroon, I pollute pages personally I made it personal because I am no longer a person. The rain trickles down and washes away all my plights from my face, I change my mind and change my face and I am giving the world hell again, true evil is holding a pen. My calm levels are unstable, upon this page I have too much sycophantic horsepower, I bucking-bronco my way out from this web of life.


In school, after Maths was English class where I jotted down my aftermath from the bullies pulley, I guess I’m pure vile and puerile, I’m not a Transformer I can transmogrify. Rambunctious to my soul’s battery core; setting my switch to self-destruction. A man can only receive so much failure in his life before superiority takes over his eyes focus. Insanity is a gift from the Gods; I wield and shield it against sanity.

This world sees what they want to see; I could have charming characteristics, suave and soigné, hats off to me, my undercurrent is currently a catastrophe. All passengers, we have a slight insurgence for turbulence and wizen, please, fasten your seatbelts and come join me within my plummet. Its drizzling green and yellow pills, I’m dancing in the pain, I jump in blood puddles and reappear in sky tunnels of bliss. This hurt in my head I play it over and over again, until a joker smirk arises on my face, I’m no longer insane, isn’t life splendiferous.

insane 12

Within my writing I cannot be a stentorian, so I must visual lies my memory video-taped life, transplant and transport all of my supercilious kisses of life, these pages are where my wishes go to find a place to die. This world should have boxed me in early, now I can create topsy-turvy from everything that profoundly promotes to hurt me. Here comes the valetudinarian again, turn away, don’t dare turn that page, it’s all of the same. I could be a beacon of silver-lining light, but the doctors beat my head in with a rock to keep me under it for eternity. I am a writer, this is what I do, keep bringing you words and I shall sit here and laugh at you.

This image was selected as a picture of the we...

This image was selected as a picture of the week on the Malay Wikipedia for the 44th week, 2009. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

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Filed under 2014, Articles, Author, Blog, Blogging, Blook, Books, crazy, Creative Writing, Fairy Tales, Fiction, Guest Posts, Interview, Life, Literacy, Literary Agent, Love, Mental Health, Misc, Movies, Music, Novel, Poem, Poems, Poetry, Random, Story, Tales, Uncategorized, Writer, Writing, Writing #2

The Psycho Writer

English: Animated atomic bomb explosion. Polsk...

English: Animated atomic bomb explosion. Polski: Grzybek atomowy. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

What do you know about fear? “Gee-whizz! That bully won’t leave me alone…” Or “In the joint, me and my home-boys have got each other’s backs, cause you never know when an attack will happen.”

How about this?  I was sitting each my dinner in the asylum the other day, next to a guy named James; he was a schizophrenic, this was one of his better days, he was rather quiet. From out of nowhere a guy named Christian, whose conditions escapes me, lunges across the table and ploughs his teeth into James face. Oh yeah, I am really afraid of any of you when this is my life.

I just want to give you a perspective of what I go through and my outcome when I finish a story. All I have is hope; yes I am out now, but for how long before I am dragged back?

My imagination is my only escape; people like you escape with drugs or booze, but I escape within my words. One day I can only hope I will have escaped it all through my stories.

I was sitting in the doctor’s office the other day; my weekly hourly meeting. And from out of nowhere the wall beside us fell away, which was filled with psycho-books and plaques to tell me how much work this dude has done. It revealed a vast deserted desert, humongous icy mountains and a mushroom cloud which licks the background with it reds and orange aftermath.

“What are you thinking about, Alex?” He gentle puts it.

“Nothing, doc’.” I confide in my day-dream.

“You’re thinking of nothing? I really do doubt it.” He tries to slink into my brain.

“Next question…”

I marvel back into my mind, Superman begins to do battle from the sky on hundreds of Aliens; he swoops down and blasts them with his heat-vision.

A slight smirk on my face.

I wanted to give you guys a day in the life of an actual mental patient and creative writer. You see I am not just a run-of-the-mill writer, who has no money and wants fame to rest his soul. I cannot stop this, I never will. I am a mental patient living and sometimes working as a sane person, who wants to be a writer, no biggie’.

But I do admire some of you sane people; you inspire me so much when this world needs you. And to the rest of you, eat me! And always remember there is someone else out there with a life worse than you, I know I do, I know I am not the only one. But you also have no idea of the why I am the way I am. That is a story I take to my grave.

But I would like you to know I have a few more stories I will be passing your way. Someday it will make a great screenplay for a movie but until then I shall take my medication and keep on pretending to be just like you.

Even for reading this, I thank you; you are the eyes I need when mine steer away and bring forth the darkness I never want.

This has been a psychotic announcement.

The creative writer, Alexander Kennedy.

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Filed under Literacy, Writer, Writing, Writing #2