| My pieces are usually glimpses into any given situational emotional state, and then infused with a little creativity, before finally being cooked to perfection within the brain pan! |


Short Man Syndrome.He sits alone at the bar, a short man in a big world.Short Man Syndrome.
Drinking whiskey on the rocks, frowning gloomily.
Unhappy with who he is, contemplating quitting his job.
Pondering the thought of suicide, an easy out.
But the bartender walks by, refills his glass, pats his hand comfortingly.
He looks up at her, and his frown vanishes, at her small smile.
The thoughts of suicide, of giving up, subside.
He asks her out to dinner a few hours later.
After he's built up enough liquid courage to do so.
She accepts, smiling that same tiny smile.


I Indulge In The Disease.I indulge in the disease; do as I please through gimp sleaze and palm trees, golf tees breaking up the monotony of mortality. Bringing injection to confectionary delight, bright and cheery, but hard of hearing, like Helen Keller, but even MORE stellar, breakdown of the letdowns to upsidedown-frowns, upheave the country and flood it with monkeys, teach chimpanzees sign language, freeze Washoe, you're not from Tahoe, low go, lesson learned, a world turned, girth burned, worth earned, and a little bit of starlight, farsight watching close, some telescopic ghost, coast to coast I boast the toast! Impeccable timing, lining up for dance class, pranI Indulge In The Disease.


Laugh Track.Boiling in my lungs, tungsten gas and hot air, bellowing flame with a snort,Laugh Track.
Chortling with ease, pleasing you to stop, got me under the collar with the chuckles,
Buckling down and squeezing necks, flexing pecs, doing the giggle trek,
You're killing me, spontaneously and rhetorically,
But I can't help but laughtrack, hazmats filling the room with laughing gas,
I'm doing the ha ha, rah rah, oh la la in my trachea,
Flaking the skin and bursting where within,
Slipping slowly back to state, under pressure, exasperate,
I'm maniacally cracking up


Marrow.Why is it, that you do not stop, after eating your delicious red meat dinner, and take the time, to crack the bones, and suck the marrow?Marrow.
You devour the flesh of another creature, but find it detestable to take out all the nutrients?
Perhaps I should make sure, the next time I am eating broccoli, to only eat the stems.


Man on the Moon.Up here there's a lack of air, layers of care and fair game, where I can't stand to listen to the bullshit of man, cramming mindless morality into the brainpan, landing me in hot water in more than one sense, dense in the most ridiculous of ways, in that of societal status, on hiatus from the rest, the best at what I do, but, what worth is truth?Man on the Moon.
(I'm up here breathing principle, dreaming kind words and love.)
They tell me that being nice is gonna earn me cold shoulders, cold as ice, viced into some tight squeeze, easy to freeze in my tracks, stacks on the lovegame ladder, I thought I had her on lock down, but not fr


Shepherd.I am not a Shepherd, guiding the lost on their way to salvation. I am not the Messiah, enlightening and performing miracles. I am neither the superhero, nor the force of change.Shepherd.
I am not on the side of good.
They say there is no rest for the wicked. But I am a wicked man, trying to be a force of righteousness.
So what does that make me then?
I am not a Shepherd. But I am neither a villain.
What am I, then?
If not a Shepherd?
| My pieces are usually glimpses into any given situational emotional state, and then infused with a little creativity, before finally being cooked to perfection within the brain pan! |
| A collab between four artists, all very talented word smiths in their own right! Check out their galleries, watch, and enjoy their work! |
| I used to favorite mostly art, but more recently I've come to focus mainly on the written elements of Deviantart. |

| My name is Precaution, The Butterfly King, CB and Cory Brandon McRae from rainy British Columbia Canada! I'm just a hack writer and poet attempting to make a name for myself and perhaps one day get published, to help spread my craft. I'm a silent appreciator of literature and art. I'm always looking for new people to be friends with and spread the love! Spoken Word Poetry Will Be Uploaded As MP3 Into My Scraps Due To DA's current Audio file policy. I will ONLY upload poems I think worthy of DA and public view into my actual gallery, as such, all scraps I upload will generally only be spoken word versions of pieces. So make sure you have the scraps box checked if you watch me and wish to hear my renditions of my spoken word poetry! You have to click DOWNLOAD in the top left to listen! Content marked C.U. pertains to the book I have been stewing on for 6 years, and as such will be prose mainly. Short stories, character bios, and other small tid bits. A few poems here and there which, in the way of Tolkien, might make it int the final cut. It'll all have it's own folder in my gallery if you are ever interested. :} All poems telling the heroic epic of The Butterfly King will be in that folder in my gallery, although I haven't organized them in order yet. I think I'll do that once I decide his story is finished! And who knows when that might be! |
--
"If you think this personality is weird, wait til you see the others..."
--
Precaution, The Butterfly King.
--
Precaution, The Butterfly King.
--
~*~We Survive What We Can't Change~*~
Surrender to the Truth: [link]
Believe the Lie: [link]
--
Precaution, The Butterfly King.
--
"The heart is the only broken instrument that works"
--
Precaution, The Butterfly King.
--
If all other feelings fail me, I still have pain to know that I'm alive.
--
Precaution, The Butterfly King.
Previous Page12345...Next Page