I need to write about him

To stop wishing bad things for this guy

I guess since my first contest

I became a LOGOPHILE

I remember him two years ago

This TOMFOOLERY on television

He said he loves challenges so

He was excited with the crisis of the nation

Violence rising, kidnapping

Economy going down & more

But still he keeps smiling

For him there is no KANKEDORT

He should listen carefully

People in ADMURMURATION

Preparing to fight back

Because this is a FORPLAINT nation

Even the NAYSAYERS who refused a change before

Now they ask for legal action against this GRINAGOG

Pacific actions & no more TWI-THOUGHTS

No more violence will be aloud among us

Reading, learning & teaching too

And no more hoping for REPERTITOUS news

I watch him yesterday smile & wave

Like a princess on a magical parade

While people are at the hospital

Injured with grenades

Only surrounded by the army he feels great

But for us you will always be an usurper

You pathetic POPINJAY

Once upon a time, there was a LOGOPHILE young maiden named Amesthy who lived in a castle with her NAYSAYING and POPINJAY step-mother Arista. Amesthy was a very beautiful young lady with ruby red lips, sun golden hair, honey brown eyes, and a golden tan complextion. She had many friends who loved her dearly because she was such a GRINAGOG. Nothing really seemed to get her down no matter how hard her step-mother tried. Amesthy, has this one friend named Draco who is almost always in a TOMFOOLERY mood. He and Amesthy are the best of friends. Draco is a very handsome young man with baby blue eyes and shiny dirty-blonde hair. One day as Amesthy and Draco where in the stables getting the horses ready for their adventure in came Arista to lecture Amesthy as usual. Draco stood behind Arista and was being his foolish self like always when suddenly he had a TWI-THOUGHT. He was now in his own little world while Arista babbled on, eventually becoming FORPLAINT. As she begins to walk away Draco starts speaking to Amesthy in an ADMURMURATIONED tone. Amesthy begins to giggle and suddenly he finds himself in a KANKEDORT due to Arista being right behind Amesthy. Draco's eyes widened as Arista asks him if there was something funny she should know about. He puts his head down and replies "no ma'am". Amesthy then turns and says to Draco...come on, let's go already the others are waiting  for us. She totally saved him from the lecture Arista was about to give him...lol...unlike him having saved her from the one she had to listen to a few minutes ago. They jumped on the horses and rode off into the forest to meet with the others but on the way they REPERTITIOUSLY encountered a cave. Draco was worried about entering it but Amesthy coaxed him into doing so with a grin. Slowly, they entered the cave and found "A WHOLE NEW WORLD".

THE END...hope you enjoyed it!!

Once upon a time, there was a Logophile with Tomfoolery mannerism.

His friend – a Naysayer – often travels with him and notorious for Admurmuration and characterized by being forplaint which is opposite to himself being Grinagog.

Sometimes both men get into Kankedort as a result of Repertitious  forbidden materials.

He has a problem with his friend who has Twi-thought and is considered Popinjay.

      As a child, I never felt as if I belonged, and so I turned to books for comfort. While other kids played at school, I sat on a bench and enjoying being a logophile, a title I bestowed on myself. I was the brightest child in class, and I knew it.

      Alas, I grew older, and the people around me changed as well. I began to be bullied by those I had always known, and detested going to school. In a twi-thought, I wondered how long I could handle the torture, but my dad’s repertitious job saved me.

      My family would be moving to a new state, and I vowed to become the girl that others admurmured about. To my naysayers, I would show them that it was possible for me to change!

      It is now a year later, and although I am one of the most popular girls at school, I have discovered that the grass on the other side is not any greener. My friends are wealthy popinjays with a love for shopping, – I wonder if they ever get forplaint – and their boyfriends are grinagogs.

      As I start to feel like a misfit once again, I pass my local library and decide to drop in. I select a novel, curl up on a couch, and begin to read. I am at a point in the novel where the protagonist is displaying tomfoolery when a girl’s voice asks me why I am not at the mall with my friends. Talk about a kankedort! While debating what to tell her, I wonder who I am at heart. Am I the nerd that I used to be or the popular girl that I am now?

      It is then that I realize that I do not need a label. I can be whoever I choose to be. I am simply me!

Sarah was a tiny girl with mousy red hair large almond eyes and glasses that were far too big for her face. Even though she was only in the 5^th grade Sarah loved books. It didn’t matter what kind of book it was as long as it told a story. From the true stories of people’s lives to stories of aliens from other planets, she loved them all. She was a complete logophile, and wanted to soak in as many words as she could on a daily basis.

At that moment Sarah’s imagination was caught up in a story of a young popinjay boy and his older naysayer of a sister. She was so entranced with the story she hadn’t even realized her mother was standing in the doorway of her room calling her name.

“Sarah? Sarah where is your mind this morning?!” After several silent moments her mother walked over to her young daughter with a sigh and took the book from the young girl’s hands. Sarah blinked and looked up at her mother with a sheepish grin on her face. Her mother was tall slim with auburn hair and the very same eyes as her daughter, only no glasses. The only word that Sarah could think of to describe her mother was grinagog. She always seemed to have a permanent smile upon her face.

“Sorry mother. It’s just such a good story,” Sarah said taking the book back and putting it into her backpack. She’d just have to finish the book at another time. She followed her mother downstairs for breakfast and caught sight of her older and far more immature brother. He was all about tomfoolery. He was constantly teasing Sarah about her glasses and mousy red hair, and of course never missed a chance to play a joke on her or anyone else in sight.

As soon as he saw her he proceeded to toss corn flakes at her from across the table. Sarah lifted her bag to her face and attempted to hide behind it, but he still managed to get several soggy flakes in her hair. Her lips pursed together in anger but knew she’d never do anything. So she simply lowered her bag and looked at her mother.

“Mom please tell Christopher to stop throwing corn flakes at me.” Sarah’s mother turned around looking completely forplaint. Her mother quickly went into an act of admurmuration and returned to packing her children’s lunches.

Sarah stood up and took her lunch as soon as her mother finished packing it and left the house heading straight for the bus stop. Along the way she took out her book and returned to reading it. Before she knew it she was bumping into someone and found herself in quite a kankedort. There she found herself staring straight into the face of the boy she’d had a crush on for as long as she could remember. Soon her mind was full of twi-thoughts. Before she could even mutter a hello the boy left to join his friends.

Sarah looked down and found a foreign coin quite repertitiously; perhaps it would bring her luck. After pocketing the coin Sarah returned to her book to once again become entranced in the story.

    What is up with the English language these days?  I thought this when I was in the library studying for my vocabulary test the next day. Tomfoolery, naysayer, admurmuration, logophile; since when are we ever going to use these words in real life.

    My frustration grew worse with Tom breathing down my neck.  He seemed to want to say something but couldn't find the right words for it.  We were supposed to be studying, but he just seemed fine just sitting there.

    "W-w-w-weird words for our v-v-vocab test, h-h-huh Jenny?"

    Ugh, the whole world seemed in that moment to be on me with all it's problems and it wanted me to fix them.

    "Florplaint, grinagog, kankerdort, popenjay, repertitious, what is with this stuff anyway."

     "M-m-maybe Mrs. Scotts wants us t-t-to use s-s-s-strange words to make u-u-us look stupid.  L-l-l-like a twi-thought."

    I laughed.  The librarian shushed me after that.

    "S-s-say, Jenny?"

    "What is it?" I said, sort of curious.

    "A-a-after this is over, t-t-the test I mean,  w-w-would you like to, ummm..."

    At that time I had no idea about what he wanted to say; guys never really talked to me then.

    "Is something wrong?"

    "N-n-no, I was just w-w-wondering if y-y-you wanted t-t-to see a movie w-w-with me.  B-b-but if you have plans o-o-or you have a b-b-boyfriend..."

    I only slightly laughed that time.  He looked really scared then.

    "No, I don't have a boyfriend, and I highly doubt I ever will."

    "W-w-why not?  I-i-i would be v-v-very interested if..."

    When he realized what he said, he probably wanted someone to shot him then and there.  I just thought I was dreaming the whole thing and would wake up any minute.  So if it was a dream, I would act like I nothing mattered.

    "Well, I don't have any plans this weekend, so sure."

    That was five years ago.   I never forgot a single thing about that day or my date with Tom or the many other dates with him, especially the one we had tonight, a date that I never knew would change our lives forever. But for the best, since we will be together, till death do us part.

   "I'm sorry. Please, please...Just one more chance." Gaia admurmured, quicking scrambling to clean up the mess. Tatton grabbed the mop and gave a forplaint sigh. Gaia sidestepped the mop as water flung here and there.

   "You wouldn't have made this mess if you weren't tomfoolering around." Tsutan spat in his thick Japanese accent. Gaia let out a chuckled unable to hold it in.

   "CUT! Gaia, you can't be an actor laughing on the most important parts. Let alone goddess of the Earth." The director mumbled the last part.

   "Sorry. Really! This time I'll get it right." Gaia said slapping her cheeks. That was a con of being a grinagog type of person. The Director scratched his head and then smelled his fingertips. Tsutan cracked his neck and a look settled on his features as if he had a twi-thought zip through his brain. His brow furrowed.

   "Okay, I'm done. I'm serious. So serious." Gaia promised propping her lean form against the mop.

   "That's good to hear. five minute break. Five minutes... not seven or twelve. Five." The Director announced before wiping his brow with a towel.

Another actor who happen to be a logophile person walked across the set and readjusted Gaia's tunic so she could look perfect. Said person gave a nod in "thank you". She went to pull away and her hand brushed Gaia's breast. Their eyes met and it suddenly became a kankedort-like situation.

   "Uh...I didn't mean it, sorry, I'm not ga- I mean lesbian. Honest." She apologized quickly, her heart colored mane bouncing as she look around making sure no one seen that. Gaia look down at her and a repertitious look crossed her face then gasped.

   "Did you...Did you just touch my...My chest?" She asked, her eyes looked back and forth between her shirt and Mina [the logophile actress].

   "Oooh, how about you forget that happened." Mina's gaze averted from Gaia's curious expression. Gaia merely leaned in extra close to Mina's ear and she whispered, "Are you...Are you bisexual then?" Mina looked insulted by the popinjaying conversation that no one seemed to hear. That or they didn't care.

   "Wha- no! No?" Mina said firmly then questioned more to herself however. Gaia patted her head.

   "It's okay. Don't worry, I am too." Gaia confessed hugging Mina closely eyes closing. Mina's eyes were big as sausers as she pushed her body away.

   "Don't be such a naysayer, loosin up." Gaia exclaimed getting fresh.

   "What? Excuse me? No, no way! Gosh, stick to the scripts." She said walking away, stiff and hesitant.

   Gaia smirked to herself and whispered to the air and anyone who was listening, "She digs me. Oh, she digs me." She rubbed her hands together and prepared to begin again.

   "Breaks' over." The Director's voice boomed. Gaia walked back over to the set and winked in Mina's direction. Mina shyed away in disgust but something else was there. 'Oh she digs me.' Gaia thought and moments later the Director shouted,    

   "Actors? In place. ACTION!"

AS PRINTED IN THE December 31st 2030 Edition of Thee Local Paper, Editors Notes

To My Fellow Popinjays:

Alas, by the time this, my last conversation with you, has rolled hot from the press, and cooled considerably during its transit to you, my term of service to you and this paper will have ended.  The red hot burning love of words that we have shared these past thirty-odd years has kindled long past its usefulness, methinks.   If you would be so kind as to take my hand, one more time, I want to stroll down "a road less traveled", and in a manner which has fallen out of fashion some years previous to this one. 

We were once called the WordDancers—a mere handful of socially, economically and diversely educated individuals who came together repertitiously for a season and managed to forge friendships out of a cold vast internet imaginery world.  One of our group would often begin his musings to us with the salutation, “Fellow Dancers” and include the phrase “Let’s Dance” in conclusion of his many posts and meanderings.  I looked forward, as many of you obviously did, to reading the postings at the group, and was often impatient as a new groom on his wedding night as a new writing challenge was opened and we were all inspired, awed and touched deep within by some of the things that were submitted.  Those challenges bought out the best in some of us and the worst of others,

It was our love of words—our logophilia—that brought us together.  Ultimately, it has been what has kept us together as well.  We  have been described as simpletons—grinagogs—archaic – even as Neanderthal for wanting to hold on to a way of life that is no longer supportable merely because of our love of the written words and our desire to encourage others to continue to “write, write, and write more” which, in turn, encouraged literacy as few other campaigns have. 

I have grown forplaint these past several years—weary of the complaints of others who say that the written word has no place in our society today and written words are not much more than a buckshot load of tomfoolery.   The admurmurations of those who prefer video journeys and whom have never learned how to read a story and react to it, using their imaginations are growing in magnitude and volume and very soon, I fear, there will not be a printed booklet available outside of the World Museum, where the works of Shakespeare and King will remain, behind glass, along with the skeletal remains of the wooly mammoth. 

These naysayers, those who continue to oppose the continuation of a free and vocal press, have created quite a kankedort and their twi-thoughts can only be linked to their refusal to read a written work, to feel the ebb and flow of prose—to follow along a simple plot and fill in the blanks of what is not said with mere imagination.  I prefer not to elaborate on the wrongness of this, as perhaps their only omission is one of the times—but I do remain ever so saddened by what is being lost, irrevocably and permanently by current trends and social mores. 

Yes, fellow dancers—I am afraid that the music has stopped.  You and I are relics of a society that technology has long since replaced.  It is no longer politically correct to discuss in polite company the merit of a Shakespearean play.  This is the last installment of this column in this newspaper by this editor.  I would like to invite you drop by my humble home, however, when you are out and about.  I’ll be there, probably sitting fireside with a cuppa tea, a large moody tabby gray tomcat in my lap, and a well worn copy of ‘The Stand’ in my hands.