Future Depictions


A fat-man died in the sands that cradle.

Into the speeding depths of the skies of ignorance, the unprepared are imprisoned in fear-

Harvesting towering sands, like crops the people tower;  endlessly awakening the heard. The melting face, of an idle mannequin, is used as an ice cream topping. Melting into cannon barrels.

Being used as the cream cones of sin.

Because into the future, are fathers of science, and soldiers of war shall combine-

they will lessen our reach over the web.

Our books will be banned, and society will be watched. Nobody will speak freely, not even the rich. Only the armed.

And you will see, that the government breeds. Men straight for the purpose of war.

Women will be free, and free into the darkness, shrouded by AI towers.

Cars will die. And be replaced with lesser cars. That make the others go obsolete.

Buildings will speak, and know you by name. And tell you secrets.

Countries will separate from one another.

Boats will be like frogs; they will hop from one place to the next.

Skin will forget what skin is.

People will give power to lamed objects, and some will bow before them.

The Atom bombs once feared by nations. Will go obsolete; they will turn them into fuel.

And people will be pleased by this.

Animals will pass away…Many won’t return.

And new bombs will seek out, like men on limbs, to search for who the powerful wish to die.

Children will live fast, and die young.

Clothes will be simply clothed creations, lacking passion.

The kids of the future will create contrary ideals-

And old ways will die off.

Good words will be remembered by great people.

But the villains of the past shall go faceless.

Businesses will weep, and poverty will be cheered.

Men will mate with idols (robots).

Christians will be feared.

T.V. will become dormant, and reruns will be prevalent-

but great films of the future will mindlessly ensnare the mindless.

Drugs that enhance strength will be endless…But side effects that morph humans into animals will be inevitable.

People will know the Christians in the room, before they know the politicians.

Politics will die off, and be replaced by the military.

Companies will bow before who has the largest arms.

rockets will be crowed the aether, lone wolves will devour satellites NASA will be enslaved by green legionaries.

Black suited men will abduct children and stray men.

And the mind will be breached by mechanical androids.

And people will find themselves tears of joy and sorrow,

embracing Earth’s nature.

Copyright February 12, 2018


Peace Overlords


Can’t be stopped, is equal to can’t stop thoughts;

untouchable warfare is equal to insane obedience…

Mindless evil, following orders, above the bomb shelters, and mindless monstrous evils, rolling limbless, above bomb shelters-

because away from the chaos, is equal to into the canvas, of white light in where no one can kill you-

the warlord’s decent, darkness following; leaving a trail of death-

his eyes emptied of peace, but full of fire;

he builds lies, and the weak minded bow.

But every single last one of them flee in terror-

from the peace soon discovered that we few good left have found.


And it is over skies into the sound, in where arms stretch to hug babies, butterfly kisses

are used as eyelashes, and there is no sound, in where there is sound, no sound is sound that is no sound, that becomes the sound, that takes away no sound and enters nowhere, and buries deep into the sound that swings the sound that cradles the sound that shapeth the sound, that was no sound that trumpets the sound too quiet to be a sound that harvests the sound that cries out the sound without tears from the sound that takes away and gives back no sound at all.

And this is peace at its finest. Peaceful and insane. The way, young minds awoken from the blaze. Can hide away into the craters of unfinished dreams, watching from the distance, at the burial of they, that dream nightmarish schemes…

Watch as their skin die, just underneath of its own sleeves…


Copyrightcopyright December 14, 2017

I made Tumblrs!


Hello friends, this is Gregory Thomas here.
I am letting you know that I made tumblrs!

Here you will find posts I made that are more pictures, than words-

mostly dealing with ingame pics taken from a video game called Skyrim.

Video gaming might not be your thing, but I still put in ‘REAL world content’ that you will most definitely find to be amusing. Loads with funny pictures I edited, and fun topics I posted containing humour, insight, and amusement. 🙂

You might also find the pictures to be pleasant to look at as well, which I hope you still continue to endorse, if you have a tumblr as well, please show your support.



   (This tumblr features a high elf  who lives in Skyrim. She claims to be ‘insane’ and a member of the Yakuza, and always posts things oriental, yakuza, or ingame related content. She is mostly humorous, yet sometimes posts cryptic messages…)



 (This tumblr is about an orc that likes conspiracies, the government, and may have a bunch of funny rambling that she will do about the government, aliens, and Illuminati. She usually offers comic relief, but can post some pretty startling revelations as well.)


I have many ideas, and could create even more tumblrs, but for now, these are pretty fun to simply engage in and view, I really do hope that you

please consider viewing in you leisure. 🙂

Thank you very much.


-From your epic friend

Gregory Thomas

The Logic of Consequence


Those who are anger, or fill themselves with wrath. Will also be filled with the most woe and sorrow, they are the ones who cry the hardest. They destroy themselves, inside and out, more than anybody else they know.


Those who are greedy, or envious, will be the most restless. This is because they constantly seek. They will never find, they will always work, they will never rest. Their restless wanting and yearning will drive their peace.

The arrogant and haughty, are also the most vunurable, because they are they, who are pompus. And the pompus, never look over their shoulder. Their enemies easily pick them off. They are followed by ignorance, and this is why, all of these things.


The lustful, are followed by destruction, and are usually second to perish.

This is because the moths, following into burning flames, and can’t tell the difference between the light, and imminent danger. This makes them also the most vunurable. Though second, because they receive multiple chances to change their path.

Pride is followed by lonelyness, the crippling kind. Their mind is the most guilt heavy, and the most distraught. They are the soldiers, that usually fight the hardest, and die the hardest. To forgive, is indeed to shield against death.


Copyrightcopyright September 17, 2017





The Faces of Lifeless Things


Just as before, there is power in peace, there is chaos in hatred.

And power, without the peace, is a restless mind.

Two arms reach forward, to reach for froward. It’s like reaching for the arms of others, and using them for the arms of others;

it’s like using other people’s legs, for other people’s legs;

it’s like thinking with other people’s thoughts, for other people’s thoughts-

and none of them all have power, because they’re all but one mind. And is restless-

this is what restlessness will look like, if it were the face of a man.

For a man, to look for a woman, and a new life with her;

it’s face will look like a child, lost in a downtown land, searching for his lost mother;

the worry on his face, will be what it looks like in physical form, and the joy of that child finding her, will be what his success looks like, and the horror, of never seeing her again;

will be what divorcing her will look like, if it were all a tangible face.

A woman looking for a mate;

will look like a fox looking for a new home, in physical form-

the bear traps, will be what people who look devour her destiny; will be what her enemies look like in physical form.

A son that doesn’t listen at all, not one bit;

will look like a child, with a featureless face, but be destructive, and still possess speech, in physical form-

The clouds will look like a mute child; in physical form, for they speak not, but still have life. They are naive, and yet important. The skies will look like this, because they are always born over and over again, so they are young, and they are eager to learn. The blueish portion of the sky, will be their mother, she is old, stubborn, and fickle;

but her voice is a teen’s. A teen, because of it’s nature to change form, and spread influence among others like it, and it’s ignorance to understand the impact of it’s actions. This is why, weather, will never be able to be controlled…

A hurricane, will look like an angry, mindless teen, that is inhuman, in physical form;

this is because they feel, they are passionate, but they do not truly understand why.

A dying old tree will have the voice of an old man, asking for help; if it had audio. This is because, like it’s appearance, it is old. It will speak often, have a weak, dying voice, and only ask for what it needs. It will not understand why, but it will understand why it doesn’t receive it. And both when it goes dormant, and when it dies. So does their voice, they will make no more sound.

A toy or a child’s plaything, will have the same happy voice as the child that plays with it…Even if it is old, decrepit, and broken;

it will still wish to be played with. But it will be angered, every time a child stops playing with it. Until somebody returns again to play with it.

A computer, if a living mortal formed creature, would be as smart and intuitive as it’s owner, but just as ignorant as they are as well. This is because it has charisma, it knows how to talk to them, but just like them;

it only knows, the answers that their owner’s already know.

A pencil’s soul is arrogant, but listens to who wields it. This is because it needs you to use it.

But doesn’t require you, to understand it.

A shoe will be like a kid, as well. It wants to be used, but never misused. It will never understand why you out grow it-

the more you use it, the less it wants you to. When the sole has a hole in it, it will have died. There will be no more voice in it to hear, even if there were one.

If the moon were to speak, it would ask many unending questions; they would be about intangible things;

starlight, distance, life, death, lifesource, and many other things, mankind hasn’t even made up words for. This is why her face is enough, and she is made mute on purpose;

not all things need to speak, sometimes the beauty of their presence, is just enough to redeem their story.


Copyrightcopyright September 15, 2017



E͕͍̭̞̠N̨͇̤̝d̰̦̖̬̪̮̯l̫͎̖͙̮̥e̙̫͢s̶̯͎s̵̪̻͍ ̴̹͇͖̜͓S̜̟͖̤̺̰̟͜o̺̦̮͙n͔̩̰͝g͏


Except from my horror story:



It is them, that are made to dance;

like puppets their severed limps skip like a jump rope;

their eyes are many, they see infinite…

They laugh when they are afraid; they are afraid when they are manic. They cry when they are hysterical-

their faces hurt from their endless grins-

they are balding. Indeed!

Ants crawl upon their unblinking seeing eyes…by the thousands they swarm their pale faces! They twitch their fidgeting mouths; drool pours like a flood down from out of their mouths. They slobber when they are well pleased,

and like maggots, their bodies swing sporadically, as they all hold hands, like pale paper dolls;

they sway to hold hand-in-hand-

they are indeed corpses;

they sing the Endless Suffering Song. They giggle, and cheerfully smirk;

some with tongues, some without.

Some with eyes, some without.

Some blink, some can no longer…

And like a square, they form it like an arena ring-

and their shadows fall upon the ground, and swarm does their darkness to devour the corpses.

Like children, they know nothing. All they know, is that to feast is to feel good-

Their insanity is like music…


Copyrightcopyright September 6, 2017


The Folly and the Fear


And out of the tides that be, you are but a thread grasped for the taking.

But the insane, and inept are they that fall into themselves, like a shadow-

and lo how insane, the rabbit hole goes;

if you were to only chase after what wsidom is unknown….

They are them that have fell themselves like a tombstone. They are them that are like stones…They are they that have fallen off the deep end;

and their faces stretch like the warped madness, tunneling and concerning.

To those who take great and utter pleasure;

into the chaos you go! Your faces will circle like the moon, and then disintegrate like a forget-me-not flower. You will glaze over like eyes, you will look up and see nothing. You will eat only the air of pure madness and hatred, and from one ear and out the other, so will your soul go…

you will have webbed knees, that stick to the chaos that you so sprint after; lifting dead limbs you will look up into the dead skies, with an empty blank stare.

Your face will be chubby off of the very greed of deceit-

you will roll down the headsman’s hill like a child frolicking down the meadows of hysteriam-

your mindless expression shall be in the form of drool; your wives and husbands will suckle off of that drool-

like honey it will taste good, but feel wrong and tommyrot.

The same way your soul suckles off of your choices-

you will be insane, and enjoy it-

and you will fear those who aren’t…You will see knowledge, and scream at knowledge. You will use your own words, to dig your own graves-

Your chin will be the shovel, used to scoop up your own words. Your eyelashes will act as the spears to pierce the winkening of love and remorse; hearts will be thorns, and thorns shall thorn against.

Your neck will stretch to chase after the rabbit of hate and haste, and your nose hairs will act as nooses to catch the bodies of your own kinsmen, entangled and enraptured, after your own shadows…

Your eyebrows will curl like a beard of deceit, your wives will do the same;

like a curtain your brows will act as the carpet of negligence; soft against the canvas of terror, your peace shall be the hay in the needle sack! Your snot will be the sweat pouring from the terror you imagined, and behind you, nothing at all, except your conscience will appear.

You will frown upside down the grin of lust, and your lusts will upside down frown the grin! You will fear those who wrought fear, because you have bowed before the fear of hate so long-

you will think chaos is the answer…And the rabbit that you so dared to chase after, will have horns, and hooves for feet…

Yet the face of a once recognizable reflection. You will curse it, turn around, and flee. Only to realize, that there is no ladder from off of your own nightmare and schemes-

And this be it the pride, and the madness of the folly.


Lo, what peace will only watch it from the distance; the shadows that have grown.

Lo the corridors, your shadow will roam,

if you were to only but leave it alone…

Copyrightcopyright August 22, 2017