Object Writing - Parsnip

The word, "Parsnip", unedited writing practice, 10 minutes, go!...

The evil prince had fingers resembling wrinkly, dirt-caked parsnips only these were bendable. They tapered to a point such that no fingernail would dare to grow. He pointed one of his vegetable appendages and pressed it into my chest, testing my resolve like a gardener tests the soil in lieu of sowing future plans. I sensed the seeds of an evil plot in his grotesquely watery eyes set in hatchet-cut eye sockets over which a furrowed brow pressed down in intimidating symmetry.

Object Writing - Parsnip

Object Writing - Kerosene

Busy days of shows at the fair but time in between for....

The word, "Kerosene", unedited writing practice, 10 minutes, go!...

It was as though the mood hanging in the room was dripping with kerosene and one more

misunderstood or misspoken outburst would send the whole living room up in flames of anger. Resentment was rising like the pungent smell of lighter fluid. Tongue strikes teeth and roof of mouth and sparks fly. Eyes aflame and glowing like charcoal briquettes. Lethal drop of sweat down his back, an uncomfortable sign of poison disagreements. A foot pensively tapping on dark wood floor under the coffee table is like a flame licking against his self control. He wants to jump up and spew dragon fire, burning any other opinions to a deadly crisp. Knuckles cracking like a snapping campfire as...

Object Writing - Kerosene

Object Writing - Illegal (Criminal oozings, forced sniffles, ewe)

The word, "Illegal", unedited writing practice, 10 minutes, go!...

This illness is illegal to my plans as far as I'm concerned. If it had any rights they would be read to it and then locked up for further judgement. A judgement and jury that would never come. Criminal oozings and forced sniffles. Unlawful nuisances of scratchy throat grumbles. My strength has been stolen from me from out of nowhere. I stand to a dizziness that's murder on my energy level. I fear a nausea may overpower me like a thief in the night. Handcuffed to my bed is what it feels like. The law of health thrown and broken to pieces like Moses throwing the covenant stones in front of the Israelites. Chicken soup, like prison's bread and water, is my lot in life today. A kleenex that will never wipe away the charges completely until the virus is banished from my society of thoughts.

Object Writing - Illegal (Criminal oozings, forced sniffles, ewe)

Object Writing, with a Haiku Bonus (Hiya!)

Your cold tea cup
Speaks of your warming presence
Knowing you'll return
__________________

And now the word, "Hallucination", unedited writing practice, 10 minutes, go!...
(Note: Views expressed not necessarily the mental state of their author)

Photo: http://tinyurl.com/pc8hmq6

Whisps of things thought seen. Windy nothings caressing forests of dense dreams that stand majestic like redwoods on the California coast. I resist hallucinations, yet they are more real to me today than ever. A ray of sun like a sharp icycle pierces my forearm. The sun smiles at me; the sight of it burning into my mind the more I stare. But I can't look away. Ficus leaves applaud their approval under compulsion from the breeze's insistent goading. Angry fly buzz says aerodynamics...

Object Writing, with a Haiku Bonus (Hiya!)

Object Writing - Imagine (Yes, Dragons)

The word, "Imagine", unedited writing practice, 10 minutes, go!...

I imagine dragons in my living room. They are planted on the couch like an old married couple. One of them roars fire into the kitchen at me to bring him a sauteed damsel in distress. An outrageous request since I'm not into human sacrifice. And by the way, now my walls are singed black and smokey. An acrid smell like a just blown out cookie candle only worse. Smoke alarms sing after waiting so long for some possible catastrophe to give them free reign to their only purpose in life. And now what to do with the couch torn to shreds like an old black jacket from a scary Halloween costume. These reptilian guests need to slither on back home before I get all Camelot on them! One reaches for the remote and rips a gash into the tan carpet that I just vacuumed. This...

Object Writing - Imagine (Yes, Dragons)

Object Writing - Panda

I'm really having fun with these! I can only hope it'll help my writing in the long term.  I don't post every one I do, but I'm keeping up the habit most days.  This one done on a four day road trip.

The word, "Panda", unedited writing practice, 10 minutes, go!...

You're stylin', PandaMan!

I saw him skulking around the Halloween party house wearing his Lone Ranger mask and he immediately reminded me of a panda as he gnawed on a celery stick as if it were a just-picked bamboo shoot. He found himself in a jungle of unknown faces whose monkey antics were quite alarming to his slow-moving nature. Unnatural tribal sounds emanated from the music speakers as well as from the fake rocks thumping Justin Timberlake in the suburban back yard. His thoughts were not all cute and cuddly toward the girl with a huge tongue piercing advancing into his claimed observance territory in the corner of the forest-green painted living room. He wished he was a small dog so he could scamper out on all fours undetected by the huntress raising her glass, dressed to kill. His resolve roly poly, he excused himself to the bathroom, rolling his eyes.

Object Writing - Panda

Object Writing - Swift (not Taylor)

The word, "Swift", unedited writing practice, 10 minutes, go!...

...and finish the last sentence if you'd like! :)

The dust danced around me to the song of her swift leaving. Dragging, spinning feet race away with the fury of a dragster in a sweepstakes race. I gave her the green light with my word of, "Go find your green ball". Joy flew to her face with a smile as wide as an olympic swimming pool is long. I still could taste the mac and cheese, made instantly, for our father/daughter Saturday. We jumped from our kitchen chairs like race horses out of the shoot, her laughter like from a winning bet. She knew I had time for her. Cheese sauce stains on her shirt like...

Object writing bonus! Lol  "Mallet"

I will take a mallet to my fear and smash it to bits. Like an empty bottle with nothing good in it for me, I swing hard and watch the pieces shiny and sharp splatter across the room. A shower of glass. A firm resolve as though holding the smooth wooden handle in my calloused and tightly gripping hand. Death instrument to scary imaginations. Their last final screaming presence in the hail of fragmented realities. Hard rubber impacts my life forever, for good. Your words to me became a Home Depot of personal strategies and tools I could find to build a better life outlook.

Object Writing - Swift (not Taylor)

Object Writing - Tribe

Like working out the body on a somewhat daily basis, this is like working out the [song]writing muscle. I'll get to some real songwriting later in the day.

The word, "Tribe", unedited writing practice, 10 minutes, go!...

We are like a tribe. The passion of song is in our blood. We share the same bloodline. The desire to communicate by the language of songwriting. A finished song another feather in our caps. Nomads of imagination. Sitting still yet we are miles away, off in some distant setting. Our campfire sending smoke from burning embers of thought. Dancing eyes for the heavens to send down nourishing drops of ideas, places to go next. Watering our fertile minds where inspiration grows. Turquoise, silver, desert sands.....Shuffling feet kick up the dust from our wandering. The dust of stagnant paths now forgotten. Horizon ahead welcomes our...

Object Writing - Tribe

Object Writing - Castaway

Wow...in the words of The Police, "Sending out an S.O.S"

The word, "Castaway", unedited writing practice, 10 minutes, go!...

I was the castaway and she was the ship that never came for me. A world of beauty all around me but I never noticed it. And it got further and further from my heart's notice the longer I waited for her to sail for me. My hopes fell like an old, bug-infested palm tree. My heart as empty as an unripened coconut  knocked to the ground too soon. My own thoughts were sounding as sad as the echoing cry of the seagull. Ocean air once smelled so sweet; now was a bitter air of defeat. A losing game of wishing for the non-inevitable. Wishing for the kissable lips moistened by the salty spray of ocean travels. I bow my head like the setting sun, like day turns to night.

Object Writing - Castaway

Object Writing - Ding

The word "ding", unedited writing practice, 10 minutes, go!...

Ouch! Her blunt words put a ding in my pride like a front side panel of a car sideswiped from out of nowhere. Unexpected concussion like crunching metal against metal, both our wills moving in opposite directions. Trust is our insurance that disagreements will be softly pounded out to more peaceful moments. I sport this indentation temporarily until some emotional muscle is applied to mend our collision of thought. Collision insurance of devotion covers our future. We will continue to drive ahead with assurance.

"Ding"! Time's up. Lol

Object Writing - Ding

Object Writing - Prime

The word "Prime", unedited writing, mining for interesting metaphors and such, 10 minutes, go!.....

He was as primed for action as a lawn mower on a warm Saturday morning. Red rubber button cover protruding like a bulbous clown nose. Freshly brewed coffee wafted by his nostrils like unleaded exhaust fumes from a sputtering grass chopping machine. It was as if his hands were on the gear handle, his mind strolling back and forth across the list of items he must mow through to feel a sense of accomplishment that day. He filled his cup with java fuel, brought it to his lips, and felt the warm cream and sugar and coffee mixture fill his empty tank. First three sips like a weed-eater string pull with the choke on.

Object Writing - Prime

Object Writing - Banister, Perforation

Continuing with the writing exercises.  You can read them if you like. These are unedited, you're given a word and you just go for 10 minutes! I try to do one most mornings, even if I have to run off to do something other than seriously working on a song.

BANISTER

The banister wound up and around the staircase like a coiled cobra into the white-ceilinged sky.  Black iron vertical spokes connecting bottom to top.  He wheeled around to take flight step by step, pedaling his courage to climb to the next floor.  Hand on semi-smooth, ice cold rail of coal black.  Blinding light from a little window way up high, the sun looking in on his hesitant ascent.  The noisy tussle of movement overhead of the spacious entryway had deceased and left only curiosity to fall upon him like rain and wet his appetite for mystery and careful exploration in the cavernous, so-called empty rooms above.  The banister urged him on hand over trembling hand.

PERFORATION

Her comment created a perforation on his thinking.  A surgical-sharp blade of wisdom cut into the fleshly center of his so-called logic.  Bleeding words of amazement.  He never felt this way before.  Thought this way about the problem before.  A much needed cut to the core of his viewpoint.  Scissoring ideas around the holes of his argument.  Tiny incisions like a biopsy surgeon's skilled handiwork were her phrases of healing encouragement.  Oozing release of anxieties like a squeezed snake bite wound.

Object Writing - Banister, Perforation