"It's official folks. Numbnuts is actually past the line of tipsy." A fuggetabout stated with a stern style.
"What? That numbnuts is not only past tipsy but way higher than that?"
In the spirit of quality, nay far beyond the sprite of reason...
"Huh?" Parasite was truly buzzled by this."
Whee! Whee! Whee!
(thud)
Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
Moderator: Editors
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
"You got a day off?"
Yep. A whole day where there is nothing but the enjoyment of not having to work.
"Wanna scratch my purple protuberance?"
(looking closely at the protuberance a decision was quickly reached)
No. Absolutely not. What is that? Is it new?
(the purple blob known as the parasite beamed with a smile and shook the large purple thing around in the air. it wiggled and reminded a viewer of jello)
"Yeah. Like it? Perfect for swatting rain drops."
Well, a day off. What fun. Music. Cool air. Cold ice water. No dirty clothes. Nice.
And a day off is inspiring for writing something. Today, a war horse named Tin'ioc
*
*
*
War
Battle fields of reality where the board is not the pristine black and white squares of chess. Where the players are not Kings or Queens. There are no Bishops or Knights. There exists only the battle of pawn against pawn.
Tin'ioc is a black stallion of a breed having no name.
No one could remember where the lineage of such a noble animal had started. Tin'ioc and his brothers and sisters alive and long dead had always been of a great aid to those engaged in the practice of slaughter and battle. From foal and mare to stallion, the breed was special in that all wore the clothing of darkness. The only white was the part of eyes holding true the color of coal.
Tin'ioc was neither young nor was he old. To date he has borne three warriors in countless battles. The riders all rode into battle after battles, and in battle they died.
While spared to run and carry a rider another day, the mighty beast had not been spared wound and injury. Tin'ioc suffered the physical wounds of spear and sword. His flesh burned by the splatter of hurled flaming balls of pitch.
His scars were visible and invisible.
His mind suffered the wounds of seeing his riders dismounted and destroyed. He saw his fellow brethren slaughtered and left to feed countless maggots. Yet, on this cool morning day he enjoyed the tingle of the coming winter. A time when battles were mostly put away for another season and it was a time of reflection and preparation for the next war.
Unaware, behind the stallion, a small boy ready to grow and yet far from being a man/warrior, the boy reached up and tugged on the tail of the mighty war horse.
Instead of kicking the boy into another kingdom, Tin'ioc felt a strange sensation deep inside his soul. Turning his head while shaking his mane, he saw what had touched him.
Smiling and looking up the boy reached his hand out to touch the flat spot above the horses nostrils. For the horse it was a powerful feeling. As if lightning itself had landed and imparted a great energy.
Snorting and pulling his head back the horse shook his head a couple of times and then once more focused on the young man.
"You are a mighty wonderful horse," the boy said with a smile.
Stomping his right foot in an unexplained action the horse lowered his head once more to the boy and the boy laughed and this time rubbed the scarred neck and scratched an area of the head that strangely enough, needed to be scratched.
"Would you like some water?" The boy asked the horse.
The horse heard the words and did not understand them but fully understood this boy was special.
And so this story ends for now with a mighty horse capable of destroying so many worlds softly walking behind a smiling and laughing boy as both of them headed towards a well deep in the forest, a special well where music was sung by the trees and the Sun of warmth and healing never set.
Yep. A whole day where there is nothing but the enjoyment of not having to work.
"Wanna scratch my purple protuberance?"
(looking closely at the protuberance a decision was quickly reached)
No. Absolutely not. What is that? Is it new?
(the purple blob known as the parasite beamed with a smile and shook the large purple thing around in the air. it wiggled and reminded a viewer of jello)
"Yeah. Like it? Perfect for swatting rain drops."
Well, a day off. What fun. Music. Cool air. Cold ice water. No dirty clothes. Nice.
And a day off is inspiring for writing something. Today, a war horse named Tin'ioc
*
*
*
War
Battle fields of reality where the board is not the pristine black and white squares of chess. Where the players are not Kings or Queens. There are no Bishops or Knights. There exists only the battle of pawn against pawn.
Tin'ioc is a black stallion of a breed having no name.
No one could remember where the lineage of such a noble animal had started. Tin'ioc and his brothers and sisters alive and long dead had always been of a great aid to those engaged in the practice of slaughter and battle. From foal and mare to stallion, the breed was special in that all wore the clothing of darkness. The only white was the part of eyes holding true the color of coal.
Tin'ioc was neither young nor was he old. To date he has borne three warriors in countless battles. The riders all rode into battle after battles, and in battle they died.
While spared to run and carry a rider another day, the mighty beast had not been spared wound and injury. Tin'ioc suffered the physical wounds of spear and sword. His flesh burned by the splatter of hurled flaming balls of pitch.
His scars were visible and invisible.
His mind suffered the wounds of seeing his riders dismounted and destroyed. He saw his fellow brethren slaughtered and left to feed countless maggots. Yet, on this cool morning day he enjoyed the tingle of the coming winter. A time when battles were mostly put away for another season and it was a time of reflection and preparation for the next war.
Unaware, behind the stallion, a small boy ready to grow and yet far from being a man/warrior, the boy reached up and tugged on the tail of the mighty war horse.
Instead of kicking the boy into another kingdom, Tin'ioc felt a strange sensation deep inside his soul. Turning his head while shaking his mane, he saw what had touched him.
Smiling and looking up the boy reached his hand out to touch the flat spot above the horses nostrils. For the horse it was a powerful feeling. As if lightning itself had landed and imparted a great energy.
Snorting and pulling his head back the horse shook his head a couple of times and then once more focused on the young man.
"You are a mighty wonderful horse," the boy said with a smile.
Stomping his right foot in an unexplained action the horse lowered his head once more to the boy and the boy laughed and this time rubbed the scarred neck and scratched an area of the head that strangely enough, needed to be scratched.
"Would you like some water?" The boy asked the horse.
The horse heard the words and did not understand them but fully understood this boy was special.
And so this story ends for now with a mighty horse capable of destroying so many worlds softly walking behind a smiling and laughing boy as both of them headed towards a well deep in the forest, a special well where music was sung by the trees and the Sun of warmth and healing never set.
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
If one could see what's inside the mind of a humming bird is today's inspiration.
*
For yes, it is
true
thoughts of nectar's smell
beating wing to a woke sun
so much
so much
...
a mind of a humming bird awake.
To see
though
in a dream
a swirl of dragon smoke
purple sunsets with a blue moon
a dance
a dance
of birds
*
For yes, it is
true
thoughts of nectar's smell
beating wing to a woke sun
so much
so much
...
a mind of a humming bird awake.
To see
though
in a dream
a swirl of dragon smoke
purple sunsets with a blue moon
a dance
a dance
of birds
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
A Bell
Written by: Alaskan Fog
It was an old bell,
far removed from the copper mine from where it hailed.
Crafted with others to take their place on a fishing boat
a world.
So proud, hoist above the poles being an extension of the brass gurdies
Weaving with waves while below spun
hoochies
whole bait, spoon and
dodgers
A vessel holding true to course
Two float outriggers
Two main deep cannonballs
On the hunt for fin and pause
a source of security and adventure
There!
Hear it?
A bell clangs to draw more attention.
Engaged
Moving
the steel line is bound tight bring something to the surface.
And there!
A king!
A big one!
A gaff or a net?
Both?
Neither?
Main haul the line
So tight the tension
until, there
upon the deck flopped a very large salmon
while atop the poles there smiled
a small copper bell
on the search for more
security and adventure.
Written by: Alaskan Fog
It was an old bell,
far removed from the copper mine from where it hailed.
Crafted with others to take their place on a fishing boat
a world.
So proud, hoist above the poles being an extension of the brass gurdies
Weaving with waves while below spun
hoochies
whole bait, spoon and
dodgers
A vessel holding true to course
Two float outriggers
Two main deep cannonballs
On the hunt for fin and pause
a source of security and adventure
There!
Hear it?
A bell clangs to draw more attention.
Engaged
Moving
the steel line is bound tight bring something to the surface.
And there!
A king!
A big one!
A gaff or a net?
Both?
Neither?
Main haul the line
So tight the tension
until, there
upon the deck flopped a very large salmon
while atop the poles there smiled
a small copper bell
on the search for more
security and adventure.
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
I do not know where this muse comes from.
To write
and write
and think.
how about you?
do you ever know where the muse to write comes from?
No?
yes?
as said before though,
it beats burning ants with a magnifying lens.
To write
and write
and think.
how about you?
do you ever know where the muse to write comes from?
No?
yes?
as said before though,
it beats burning ants with a magnifying lens.