Not everyday do you enter a class and are asked to tinker your head and come up with something that can defy anything. Grammar, language, logic, science and the mind. How often does one really have this kind of a freedom? Nonetheless, it comes at a price. A price of time. And there is not much time to think or even structure your thoughts. This is how *they* say "Creative Writing" is born. I say, where's the sex?
Keeping the RTP in mind and taking the logic, humor out of the way, here's what churned out in a few hundred seconds of the aforementioned freedom.
* when you part those lips, you break the beautiful bliss. Bliss of pure serenity. Bliss of the free, odor-free air. Bliss of hearing the sea waves hit the shore and the bliss of the breeze so calm and composed.
* As the sun sets behind the concrete junlge,
the view from here evokes mixed emotions.
The sea, the shore, the nature and the honks, beauty that they tore.
If those cement blocks were trees, if the water was blue, this sight would be as if the heaven is true. So much to ask for, so less to feel; the democracy here, my friend, our rights they peel.
And, this is what a sleepy mind churns out when put under stress of time with the temptation of freedom.
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