One of a Kind. Hopefully...
By W. Thomas

This. adj 2 used to refer to the present time e.g. This morning

Has. v third person singular of the present tense of HAVE.

Probably. adj likely to happen or be true.

Been

Done. v past participle of DO.

Before. conji, prep, adv indicating something earlier in time, in front of, or preferred, to e.g. Before the war, brought before a judge; death before dishonour.

But. conj 1 contrary to expectation.

Not. adv expressing negation, refusal, or denial.

By. prep 1 indicating the doer of an action, neatness, movement past, time before or during which, etc. e.g. Bitten by a dog;

W. w or W (dùbb'l yoo) n 1. 23rd letter of the English alphabet 2. holds one part of the complete name given to the UKs (also 'what makes us British' pg. 811) newest presenter to be found within the last ruff of talent - Dùbb'l yoo T, WT or Wayne Thomas 3. a personality gathered by a person only through hearing words understood by sound when delivered 4. an ability developed by Dyslexics to decode the world in the common way and also in their unique way.

T.

But. conj 1 contrary to expectation.

Can v, past could 1 be able to. 2 be allowed to.

You. pron refers to: 1 the person or people addressed. 2 an unspecifed person or people in general.

Call. v 1 name.

It. pron 1 refers to a nonhuman, animal plant, or inanimate object. 2. refers to a thing mentioned or being discussed.

Poetry?

Unknown Cause, But Clear Effect…

By W. Thomas


Heard is his

Barking towards her projected defensive aerial  screeching,

A continuing stalemate is found,

Rather than either's sought after conclusion of checkmate.

While their

Only bond of current connection is just sitting there,

Crying.

He didn't mind the

Engulfment of their smoke that filled his small lungs

With each drag of breathe

To let out his cry.

He didn't mind the

Explicitness of syllables which

Filled,

Ended,

And complete each of their irritated sentences,

All between

Each drag of his breathe

To let out his cry.

And I still mentally kick my self in to a state,

Which clearly left me paralysed

Rather than moving me to act,

But one day I came home and placed down my cap and…

There was no more crying.

There was no

Frustrated retorts as each tried unravel each others twine of words.

I knew better

But said it probably be better

If I stayed out of this matter.

Luke could have had better

But now sleeps better than he ever would have,

As now he doesn't wake up any more to the distress of their screams.

The truth is…

Now, he just doesn't wake up.

Dúbb'l yoo T © 2008

What I'm Saying is...

By W. Thomas

How I was raised,

When asked,

Is reflected back on

Like a sketch of intricate well-read plays,

Of complex displays of

How my mother installed this man in to a system

That even with all your experience,

Needed is a moment to understand

What you only took in and understood yesterday.

But it's this

Very same system has brought me in front of you.

And my mind is consumed with thoughts now of your

Initial notion of me.

And within these few minutes of meeting you,

I find myself

Trying to understand the history of events on

Why there would never be anyone in your eyes that

Will be good enough for you.

How

No one will be able to mount the required respect for your view,

Allowing you to

Release this tense grip of these delving questions.

The inquisitive questions,

I know I answered in all honesty

As felt that this was the only way of showing you

That all I can show is the truth.

And tonight has given me this opportunity

Which I have been able to show this all to you,

And it has taken all evening but the truth you now see…

But a triumph found only after a few moments of conversation?

Surely this is too easy!

Because during her mental preparation with me

Told me to simply be... "Cool"

But linked that with another line

That they felt it was necessary at the time to include

That "The walls of Jericho or more likely to fall…"

So please understand my expressions of being sceptical.

What I'm trying to say is…

My conduct will always articulate louder than my words.

And rather than me applying layers of feelings

Accompanied by a hand full of supporting verbs –

Which comes now effortlessly to me,

As my books pay handsomely for my words to affect the world as they read –

I want the

Smiles seen from your daughter,

Exposing her new found belief in man,

After discovering this man,

And each one of the verses she is heard to have expressed

On what me being in hear life now means to she,

Add up and

All is testimony to every doubting question you will ever have for me.

And if after looking at your only child

Your not filled with the confidence that

My hand,

Mind and heart

Will not be strong enough to take lead,

Ill simply leave.

But with the risk on what I know that will do,

Base my confidence that my intentions

Towards your exquisite daughter to be constantly true.

How Me and Your Mum Met...

By W. Thomas

'm no 'Morden day' Shakespeare,

But I've danced with a few men in my time.

Danced in the context that

As men chosen to be born on this earth,

We're all trying to jump on this beat.

A beat that we

Sip and thrive enough to dip inside,

And the beat in question is a ride we call life.

And though

Played and heard us the very same beat,

We seemingly

(Like it's out of our own personal choice)

Seem to all be able to hear it played,

But allow for it to affect us differently.

And as I allow the

Bass of drum to pulsate my blood through

All nerve connections

So that each one of my bodily tips is filled

I'm able to moves rhymically within music's perfectly timed

Time lines –

In my eyes,

One of the highest forms of multi-tasking.

So where I have been blessed with time,

Others…

Well,

Let's just say that others seem to have been blessed to

Catch the odd beat or two;

But with all our different types of rhythms in view,

We are all still pursuit to be the one you choose

To be the only one tonight

That holds your entire view.

Now,

In this dimly lit visual environment

My experience over the out come of this situation

Is not just the

'Simple but effective'

Dance moves that you see from me,

But comes in realising that…

She will only see what she desires to see.

And with so many to choose from,

Who am I

But an addition to this

Hazed meat market view…

So rather than

Approach you with my unique style leisurely,

Hoping to apply the ample measure if words

To tip you in my direction tonight gradually,

I have a need for my actions

To speak more than my words ever could be…

And on this occasion,

I want my words to move you towards me…

Because you see now

This note that I know that you have been reading

Since my Shakespeare introduction,

Has almost completed the task that the

Others had calculated for winning you.

So let's firstly address your first question…

"What are my intentions tonight towards you?"

Well… as this note was made in the

Frustration of

You being the only one I can see in the room,

The frustration of seeing a smile from you

Fade into

Us being lost in a momentary gone astray stare,

From the lucid brown eyes

Found within someone I can see spending the rest of my…

Well,

I just wanted to show the

Instant connection I had felt with seeing you.

And just to show you

That this is not just another premeditated fib,

That is brought with me,

Neatly folded,

Every time I need someone to go raving with,

Tell me,

How else would I have been able to write…

"Who really is that ugly girl in the red dress you brought with you

As you know should have told her before you left out tonight

About the lack of co-ordination between that dress and those shoes"

Ahhh…

The mere fact that I'm seeing you smiling

After guessing what your part of the note you're now reading

Give me a clue that… I'm going to like you.

As already my jokes you applaud

And that my approach seems to leave you wanting more

But I see your intelligence now thinking

"Nice try brother, confidence exposed your wishful thinking…"

But have you fail to realise that my note young lady

You seem to be still reading…

So now the pause in your thinking,

As now its time for the split seconds needed

To weigh my known pros cons

Which will move you to deciding

Whether a verbal conversation in a quieter environment

For the us connection to

Carry on,

Or stay to continue with your whispers in to the ears

Of those that confuse the view of what I see as confidence you oozed,

As a three word abuse when said "Please…. Jog on"

But after seeing them doing the

'Logon' to Peter Andre's 'Mysterious Girl'

Then asking you to dance,

That's really not on!

But can we move on…?

Alazoo, Part 2

By W. Thomas

You see

"Let me taste you"

Meant,

Rather than the

Welcoming of another way of me

Giving her pleasure during our evenings in,

But was a request to taste the

Orgasmic feeling of another

Taste created by she.

The way her

Playful fingers

Dance around perfectly heaped

Measures of

Earthly hand picked ingredients,

Leaves me fixated

As I'm now observing

With timed glances

And seeing as each

Ingredient disappears to reappears

In fragrances in techno colour

As this

Picture can only be by eyes when closed

And its vision inhaled.

Throws and dashes

All precise,

While witnessing

The collection of enticement to my tongue

Now aroused

By its favoured type of oral massing.

With just a taste

You have granted me permission

To sit there

And blatantly please myself,

By moving the textures around my mouth,

Vanishing in these fulfilling senses

But soon to be found like abandon

With my arms out stretched

Pleading to you for just

One

More

Drop.

Effortlessly you made sure that

My each of my taste bud erections were

Massaged,

Thus all collectively being brought

To that first uncontrollable…

Experience.

And I've had experience this

Tasteful bliss

For the last four years,

Years on a journey that has brought me to you.

And you,

You and your Alazoo

Bring me to this state

With just a taste of your lips…

Trust when I say

Meetings with you I do not choose miss,

But at this moment I'm trying to choose

Whether to loose the mother of my two,

Over you

Your kiss

And living the experience within your

Multitasking

By W. Thomas

Conversation ranges from the daily's

To the

Unique random situations

That we find ourselves in.

But during them

She never

Words aloud her needs,

As its the

Feeling within her calm tone that convinces me.

It's funny because

The sentences we debate have taught me

An emphatic patience,

Something I was never able to communicate until now.

Between understanding

In feeling sounds of reasoning's

I am able to hold our conversation

While deciding which of her needs to accommodate.

No Reason...

By W. Thomas

I don't think that the relevance of
When I got the gun,
Where I purchased the bullets, or

How I even got the silent killer pass security

And on to the plane
Is point of this conversation;
The fact still remains that…
I
Shot
Him.

And no,
He wasn't in anyway known to me
Or anyone I know,
And if there is seen to be another connection not shown
Please expose it to me
As none to me is currently known.

But what I do know is
As clear as the evidence
On that day was shown,
From the
Exact index finger tip match,
The numerous witness on the plane,
To the fact that
My mother
Was the one that reported me!
(When turning the washing machine drum,

She was not expecting a gun to fall with that hiding solitary sock)
So from then,
It was clear to signify,
That it was I and only I.

In honest truth with the way that I was feeling...
It could have been anyone at that point in time.
But his conversation to who ever it was
Before our planes journey upwards and onwards,
Of the
Uttering's of his life successful mutterings
Of him:

Finding the one,
A test drive with a car
That allows the air through you hair to run through
(My lack of hair? Yes, rub it in why don't you)
The scheduled holiday or two,
Maybe one being a cruise for them in the sun,
Even the talks of the potential feet of a little one...
Look, the bastard just vexed me.

Would I call it jealously?
Not necessarily,
But his city type tone
Was as jarring as a jar
That does not open to abracadabra
Or to the fact that on being grabbed by its head
It did not realise my potential frustration,
And all this...
Before I smashed its faces in.

It was like it was teasing me

So the jar had it comming....

With my frustration allowed to build
It breed a violence backlash from within.

But as to the feeling
Knowing that
I took away someone's ability to
Breathe
Touch
And experience this existence we call life?

Well....
I've been so good lately
But damn,
It's lovely to be wicked!

And with that,
I have nothing more to say so...
Electricity please!

I'm Just Breathing

By W. Thomas....

My day was tiring.

Filled with preparing solutions to other peoples problems

Which has become a daily occurrence

That my mind finds far from stimulating.

So it starts its wondering.

Planning its evening

Based on the energy found on the conclusion of this weeks end

And it structured far away from any sort of evening entertaining.

It's all based on a feeling.

A feeling that fills my mind,

Transporting its thoughts to a position that involves me,

And of course in toe with she,

Laid eventually in a still state of positioning.

And for once it didn't start with us kissing.

But with us coming home with that synced feeling that

Within each others arms

Will be were we find the importance of the 'art of chilling'.

So then our evening begins.

While removing the clothes that were required by our paid worlds,

Questions and enquiring on whether the day

For each

Came to an encouraging end,

Which temporally replace the build up to us retiring.

But comfort is also found in other ways.

As our most intimate conversations are held in silence,

As found is our place of rest

With my chest as your base,

Where your head can finally take rest.

And from this position I believe I was made for you.

Because when we find each others breathing times

The sync of my heart and your mind a lined,

The feeling at that very moment for you

Knows that my love for you is true.

Young States of Mind

By W. Thomas

It's like....
I'm fighting for freedom,
Scribing for freedom
Tired society is not designed for me to live within
Its just not right what I'm seeing
So with the older's when I see them
I part spirit just to… talk to them,
With their helping hands
They show me I can walk with them.

I speak to a few and
So many of them
Burn to me like a stars of wisdom,

To some
A laughed concept
But I'm here laughing with them,
Therefore