"Feeling better today? You're acting weirder than normal. You okay?"
Beautiful rain outside. I don't have to go work today.
"Then go make me a sandwich."
Nope. You make it yourself. And while you're at it tell Shakespear he is an idiot.
"Just as I thought, you really have gone off the deep end of the shit pool."
***
Guardian Angels
Got one? Course you do. Those feathery imps are everywhere. Gets a bit busy just trying to keep track of them.
Even I got one and i feel sorry for it as it is most assuredly on Prozac or at least in group therapy.
Take yesterday for example. Two stories up on a barn being built. No safety gear. Wall is not temporarily stabilized and I'm on top, balanced and trying to lift a 300 pound beam. Anyway, my usual friend was their with eyes open in shock and disbelief so I tried standing on one leg while whistling the Marine Corps hymn.
Today I woke up chained to the bed. I was not allowed out until 0800. House arrest I suppose. Anyway, it was easy to escape as I had Lady Bug (new name for the corgi) help spring me.
So now I'm planning on either designing a new explosive device, play with a chainsaw or try doing some electrical work outside in the rain.
Oh, and seriously debating on making a wind gong out of a propane tank but wonder if I should cut it while it is full of gas or should I empty it first.
...
...
...
"Hey numbnuts..." The parasite was back only this time with an anchovy sandwich in one appendage and a bowl of dog food in another.
Yes?
"Thought you should know that I saw your guardian angel banging its head on the refrigerator door. It was saying something along the lines of, why me? Why?"
Sounds about right. Hey. Wanna come help me play with fire? I got some trash to burn and we can mix up some gasoline and laundry detergent and pretend we're taking out a Chinese tank.
"Sounds fun, but I have to go study the stock market. You go ahead. Knock yourself out. Enjoy."
Thanks
Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
Moderator: Editors
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
If a writer could choose what would be their best and more enjoying topic to write about the answers would be vast a varied.
Parasite would choose to write about dolphins. Stephen King would choose to write about knitting sweaters with yak wool. I would choose to write something humorous. That said, parasite can't write because it is retarded, Stephen King can't write about knitting because his fans would disown him and I have the humor of a dried cow turd.
Now, since I can't write funny I can quote a funny writer and so, Tip of the day: Don't fry bacon naked.
Don't know about you but I giggled AND now I"m going to try frying bacon naked.
***
Speaking of writing, don't read news article on a once fun magazine to read, Newsweek. Sweet potato pie, those fuckers want world war III IV V VI and a shit pot more wars to start. Just stick with one war at a time.
Speaking of war (it is fun to use the same word over and over and over and...) War! What is it good for? Absolutely nothing....Say it again. War...
War is horror put to the test. It is the breeding ground for innovation. It is hell. It is pure truth at work; truth of what it is that humans can truly agree upon.
But getting back to knitting sweaters out of yak wool. It is nice that Stephen King want to write about that. Knitting is far superior to crocheting. Yet knitting yak wool is definitely not the best as weaving the hair of an angora rabbit into some women's underwear, now THAT is something worth doing AND writing about.
***
Knitting Panties Out of Rabbit
1. First find a lot of angora rabbits. They are usually easy to find at peoples homes that raise such a breed of bunny. After locating the cages take a pair of hair snips and shave the helpless little bunnies. This action will garner a lot of hair and make the bunnies feel very insecure with being naked.
2. Next, use a loom and combine the soft hair into a thin thread, not too thin or the hoochie will show in the finished product and not to thick as only Russian women like a hairy piece of under garment.
3. After spooling an appropriate amount of yarn, use 3.25 or 4.0mm needles and begin knitting.
4. It does not long to knit panties and once done celebrate the project by frying some bacon from Wal Mart while naked.
"Again dude. Seriously and with all the best intentions. Seek mental help."
Hug?
"Arggh!"
Parasite would choose to write about dolphins. Stephen King would choose to write about knitting sweaters with yak wool. I would choose to write something humorous. That said, parasite can't write because it is retarded, Stephen King can't write about knitting because his fans would disown him and I have the humor of a dried cow turd.
Now, since I can't write funny I can quote a funny writer and so, Tip of the day: Don't fry bacon naked.
Don't know about you but I giggled AND now I"m going to try frying bacon naked.
***
Speaking of writing, don't read news article on a once fun magazine to read, Newsweek. Sweet potato pie, those fuckers want world war III IV V VI and a shit pot more wars to start. Just stick with one war at a time.
Speaking of war (it is fun to use the same word over and over and over and...) War! What is it good for? Absolutely nothing....Say it again. War...
War is horror put to the test. It is the breeding ground for innovation. It is hell. It is pure truth at work; truth of what it is that humans can truly agree upon.
But getting back to knitting sweaters out of yak wool. It is nice that Stephen King want to write about that. Knitting is far superior to crocheting. Yet knitting yak wool is definitely not the best as weaving the hair of an angora rabbit into some women's underwear, now THAT is something worth doing AND writing about.
***
Knitting Panties Out of Rabbit
1. First find a lot of angora rabbits. They are usually easy to find at peoples homes that raise such a breed of bunny. After locating the cages take a pair of hair snips and shave the helpless little bunnies. This action will garner a lot of hair and make the bunnies feel very insecure with being naked.
2. Next, use a loom and combine the soft hair into a thin thread, not too thin or the hoochie will show in the finished product and not to thick as only Russian women like a hairy piece of under garment.
3. After spooling an appropriate amount of yarn, use 3.25 or 4.0mm needles and begin knitting.
4. It does not long to knit panties and once done celebrate the project by frying some bacon from Wal Mart while naked.
"Again dude. Seriously and with all the best intentions. Seek mental help."
Hug?
"Arggh!"
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
The inspiration was, 'What it the favorite thing you cook"
My instant thought was as follows: Feel free to share the recipe.
***
A Little Seasoning
Hello. My name is Mugamo. I learn English from white missionary. He come village in time for great dinner of my peoples.
White man speak of god who scare my peoples. He say god no like our ways. Says we much repent for sins.
My favorite thing to cook is white missionary. Very greasy and much juice of fat.
Very taste good!
As respect we say thanks before meal.
Amen.
My instant thought was as follows: Feel free to share the recipe.
***
A Little Seasoning
Hello. My name is Mugamo. I learn English from white missionary. He come village in time for great dinner of my peoples.
White man speak of god who scare my peoples. He say god no like our ways. Says we much repent for sins.
My favorite thing to cook is white missionary. Very greasy and much juice of fat.
Very taste good!
As respect we say thanks before meal.
Amen.
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
Arachnoid mater, and for that matter, a bit of a rhyme
There beneath the troubled waters flowed the embryonic fluid of reason, The reason. A reason. Time
Spun of necessary vibrations; luring logic to a demise
as the seconds trickle thrice, three, and four more'
sigh.
So...
With a day where the Sun flew above the cries of of geese and men
Where clouds poured out their crimes
A spider, a very large spider...
Dined.
There beneath the troubled waters flowed the embryonic fluid of reason, The reason. A reason. Time
Spun of necessary vibrations; luring logic to a demise
as the seconds trickle thrice, three, and four more'
sigh.
So...
With a day where the Sun flew above the cries of of geese and men
Where clouds poured out their crimes
A spider, a very large spider...
Dined.
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
Gonna be inspired by the foolish beliefs humans chose. They had a choice and they chose it. Now it is free to talk of the logic of their choice.
(Kamala, inspired by how silly you sound)
Anywho, abortion is a law where it is just fine and justifiable. Look up the law and the reasons for the law. "To protect the life." "Mental illness." "Old." "Not prepared." "Financial>" and of course, any other reason a person wants to use to find justification.
Okay, lets look at the legality of murder. Same rules. Same beliefs only different nuances to the definitions of words
Killer=mentally ill
Financial= they were robbing me
Not prepared= did not have a defense
Old=no more use to society
Self preservation=defense
and whatever reason a society deems to be defensible for murder. (war, religion, political, crimes)
How can an 'intelligent' species such as humans justify any taking of life be it an infant or a mass murderer such as Hitler?
Words. More words. Made up words. Words of babble.
It is simple. Murder is justified by the hearts of man.
A child kills a spider because he/she can.
A mother kills her baby in the womb because she can
A father kills his neighbor because he was in fear of his and his families life and so he can.
Humans justify their choices because to deny their choices means they failed. And what did they fail from?
Easy question.
Easy answer.
Yet i bet humans will still choose to ignore the simple and instead concentrate on the complications they chose in their minds.
As such, a simple poem comes from a simple mind. A mind knowing what is and what is not murder. Knowing what is and what is not evil. Knowing how to be fully naked and present in front of God, smiling in thanks for the opportunity.
***
Reaching inside the part where the mind decides to life or death
Sticky to the memory
Firm in forget
Words:
Gibberish translated into resolve; understanding; law; communication of a soul inside
As the thoughts start to stray in the direction
Towards an exit or opening of choice
Often it is best to close the eyes, smile, and listen to the music of Gods voice.
(Kamala, inspired by how silly you sound)
Anywho, abortion is a law where it is just fine and justifiable. Look up the law and the reasons for the law. "To protect the life." "Mental illness." "Old." "Not prepared." "Financial>" and of course, any other reason a person wants to use to find justification.
Okay, lets look at the legality of murder. Same rules. Same beliefs only different nuances to the definitions of words
Killer=mentally ill
Financial= they were robbing me
Not prepared= did not have a defense
Old=no more use to society
Self preservation=defense
and whatever reason a society deems to be defensible for murder. (war, religion, political, crimes)
How can an 'intelligent' species such as humans justify any taking of life be it an infant or a mass murderer such as Hitler?
Words. More words. Made up words. Words of babble.
It is simple. Murder is justified by the hearts of man.
A child kills a spider because he/she can.
A mother kills her baby in the womb because she can
A father kills his neighbor because he was in fear of his and his families life and so he can.
Humans justify their choices because to deny their choices means they failed. And what did they fail from?
Easy question.
Easy answer.
Yet i bet humans will still choose to ignore the simple and instead concentrate on the complications they chose in their minds.
As such, a simple poem comes from a simple mind. A mind knowing what is and what is not murder. Knowing what is and what is not evil. Knowing how to be fully naked and present in front of God, smiling in thanks for the opportunity.
***
Reaching inside the part where the mind decides to life or death
Sticky to the memory
Firm in forget
Words:
Gibberish translated into resolve; understanding; law; communication of a soul inside
As the thoughts start to stray in the direction
Towards an exit or opening of choice
Often it is best to close the eyes, smile, and listen to the music of Gods voice.
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
Most who now read this are now dead. Dead years ago due to the insanity of war. Dead because of what fell from the sky. Dead from the poison in the waters. Dead crushed to dust as the mountains fell.
Some today will read and laugh. Some tomorrow will read and cry. It does not matter as the hands of a clock spin forward to the day where an old piece of paper states what is 'now' available on a computer.
Is it sad for all those lost between now and then, lost to a world they once thought was so comfortable and safe?
No. No it is not as they lived their lives the way they wanted, or at least tried. Circumstances often have a way of interfering with plans, fate, destiny, and the lot of which so many put faith into.
So much to write regarding the resignment between this moment and the next. Those minutes deemed absolute and secure only to be lost to a spring wound so tight the very glass over of the clock once so clear and pristine shatters into uncountable pieces.
In the past there was an old style of warfare, there was the basic physics of turning elements back into energy. To harness the sunlight, plow the fields, fish the seas.
The population discovered a new method of populating the species. They turned from having faith, or not, in God to learning just what a black-and-white memory now becomes full in living color.
i had to pause today to take stock in comparing eternity to the finite of seconds. To watch the Sun travel from the West to set in the East. To listen to the sounds of animals, birds, fish, and especially insects no longer here to speak, and then to listen to their ancestors now so very vocal in my mind.
Good morning people. Good evening. It has been an interesting span of thousands of years has it not?
For those reading 'today', I almost feel sorry for you, almost, as your pain and death are necessary for what is, and trust me when i say, it is good...
Some today will read and laugh. Some tomorrow will read and cry. It does not matter as the hands of a clock spin forward to the day where an old piece of paper states what is 'now' available on a computer.
Is it sad for all those lost between now and then, lost to a world they once thought was so comfortable and safe?
No. No it is not as they lived their lives the way they wanted, or at least tried. Circumstances often have a way of interfering with plans, fate, destiny, and the lot of which so many put faith into.
So much to write regarding the resignment between this moment and the next. Those minutes deemed absolute and secure only to be lost to a spring wound so tight the very glass over of the clock once so clear and pristine shatters into uncountable pieces.
In the past there was an old style of warfare, there was the basic physics of turning elements back into energy. To harness the sunlight, plow the fields, fish the seas.
The population discovered a new method of populating the species. They turned from having faith, or not, in God to learning just what a black-and-white memory now becomes full in living color.
i had to pause today to take stock in comparing eternity to the finite of seconds. To watch the Sun travel from the West to set in the East. To listen to the sounds of animals, birds, fish, and especially insects no longer here to speak, and then to listen to their ancestors now so very vocal in my mind.
Good morning people. Good evening. It has been an interesting span of thousands of years has it not?
For those reading 'today', I almost feel sorry for you, almost, as your pain and death are necessary for what is, and trust me when i say, it is good...
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
"You're kinky. I like it."
What?
"What you see I see, remember?"
What did you see parasite?
***
What I saw
Written by: A writers parasite.
He was a man. A healthy man who did as he wanted. He did not exist in the way you may think a man should exist.
Followed by shadows. Blinding to light. Able to consume a darkness so black it would bind the bowels of a hungry god.
So many moments beyond account of surrender or attack
Counting on nothing more than facts
Truth hurts as such:
He lay atop a woman who was completely molded and attached
Her body was his and his was her
Not two, not one, more than numbers could count, multiply, divide, or subtract
Earth math is illogical and obscure, much like pissing on a high power electric line thinking the answers would flash
(settling the score as is and should not ((enter numbers now_ 3-3-6-444-..null null 00)).
As the bodies radiated energy not of this planet, the sounds and murmurs definitely distracted from the picture of a young black boy with a head of hair tightly spun into what some call, afro.
The man conversed with the boy, a boy whose father was once white and instead is now confined in a bad place between murder and Hell.
The orgasm even now is more powerful than super nova, dwarf star, or for the mentally impaired, the Big Bang.
It never stops just like it never started, it is was and always will be.
As for the life of the black boy, he already knew his fate and just needed the voice of confirmation.
What?
"What you see I see, remember?"
What did you see parasite?
***
What I saw
Written by: A writers parasite.
He was a man. A healthy man who did as he wanted. He did not exist in the way you may think a man should exist.
Followed by shadows. Blinding to light. Able to consume a darkness so black it would bind the bowels of a hungry god.
So many moments beyond account of surrender or attack
Counting on nothing more than facts
Truth hurts as such:
He lay atop a woman who was completely molded and attached
Her body was his and his was her
Not two, not one, more than numbers could count, multiply, divide, or subtract
Earth math is illogical and obscure, much like pissing on a high power electric line thinking the answers would flash
(settling the score as is and should not ((enter numbers now_ 3-3-6-444-..null null 00)).
As the bodies radiated energy not of this planet, the sounds and murmurs definitely distracted from the picture of a young black boy with a head of hair tightly spun into what some call, afro.
The man conversed with the boy, a boy whose father was once white and instead is now confined in a bad place between murder and Hell.
The orgasm even now is more powerful than super nova, dwarf star, or for the mentally impaired, the Big Bang.
It never stops just like it never started, it is was and always will be.
As for the life of the black boy, he already knew his fate and just needed the voice of confirmation.
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
definitely tingling tonight.
if I shake the head hard enough it spins.
too many pictures.
bats
Cher
Battleships
breathing slowly with eyes closed.
and now...
music.
if I shake the head hard enough it spins.
too many pictures.
bats
Cher
Battleships
breathing slowly with eyes closed.
and now...
music.
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
"Interesting stone. You're still weird though."
Thanks parasite. What do you think is wrong with their tractor?
"Two flats on the rear though the rubber looks salvageable. Tractor battery need a boost."
Okay. How about the swather?
"They never repaired the chain link."
Exactly what I think also. And since it is a JD it a very solid situation. Anyway, chugga chugga choo choo.
***
Exactly
Precise or precision
Focused
Not bedazzled as mundane is so today
Nor sad, angry, upset, as why compete against a storm when holding a sun with open arms.
Opening a mind just a smidge, and yup a whole new world, a world where there is a world free
One of the true blessings of knowing what is inside, it to travel those thoughts of child.
It never gets tiring
never
nor will it ever
for ever
and ever
and ever
end.
Thanks parasite. What do you think is wrong with their tractor?
"Two flats on the rear though the rubber looks salvageable. Tractor battery need a boost."
Okay. How about the swather?
"They never repaired the chain link."
Exactly what I think also. And since it is a JD it a very solid situation. Anyway, chugga chugga choo choo.
***
Exactly
Precise or precision
Focused
Not bedazzled as mundane is so today
Nor sad, angry, upset, as why compete against a storm when holding a sun with open arms.
Opening a mind just a smidge, and yup a whole new world, a world where there is a world free
One of the true blessings of knowing what is inside, it to travel those thoughts of child.
It never gets tiring
never
nor will it ever
for ever
and ever
and ever
end.
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
They broke the treaty and so now they will die.
Coyotes... Tonight your numbers will decrease, and you know why.
Every night for the next 13 weeks there will be a great reduction without remorse or pity.
Thor... you tempted what is not meant to be and so you too will suffer.
Suffering.
World, you better get used to it.
Coyotes... Tonight your numbers will decrease, and you know why.
Every night for the next 13 weeks there will be a great reduction without remorse or pity.
Thor... you tempted what is not meant to be and so you too will suffer.
Suffering.
World, you better get used to it.
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
What is the true definition of greed?
You probably have heard of and know a lot of how to answer.
Good, there s no wrong answer with such a variety of choices to cover greed.
Toying with the idea that the definition of greed is to want more than you need.
***
they circled
howling in greed
taking a chance for a bitch in heat
or a meal of a puppy.
You probably have heard of and know a lot of how to answer.
Good, there s no wrong answer with such a variety of choices to cover greed.
Toying with the idea that the definition of greed is to want more than you need.
***
they circled
howling in greed
taking a chance for a bitch in heat
or a meal of a puppy.
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
A small fire. A small fire cast reflection across the body of the fair skinned woman.
A woman naked before herself, her family, her world.
She tingled as this is what women smelling of moments between what is and what was can feel when knowing of what tomorrow brings.
The fire fed upon itself. It's energy from ashes. It's size dependent on the size of its passion
Lust?
No, for a fire would quickly burn into nothing and from nothing would come to mind, a dream.
It is always the dream.
Having this dream to pass the time with so many more dreams and passions until the Sun itself tires and falls westward into the world of deep
deep'
sleep.
"You there sir, can you spare some time?" The old man uttering the words was not begging a world, merely questioning the intentions of a world intent on following the eternity of circles.
"Yes. Yes i can," a breeze caressed both the naked woman's body and the frailty of a man now just a memory whispered about by the stars.
A woman naked before herself, her family, her world.
She tingled as this is what women smelling of moments between what is and what was can feel when knowing of what tomorrow brings.
The fire fed upon itself. It's energy from ashes. It's size dependent on the size of its passion
Lust?
No, for a fire would quickly burn into nothing and from nothing would come to mind, a dream.
It is always the dream.
Having this dream to pass the time with so many more dreams and passions until the Sun itself tires and falls westward into the world of deep
deep'
sleep.
"You there sir, can you spare some time?" The old man uttering the words was not begging a world, merely questioning the intentions of a world intent on following the eternity of circles.
"Yes. Yes i can," a breeze caressed both the naked woman's body and the frailty of a man now just a memory whispered about by the stars.
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
"Don't do that again."
Why parasite?
"It hurts."
Maybe it does, maybe it does not. Lets forget about it today and go mill something.
"Yeah. Yeah, lets do that instead."
Great. You can sit on the blade then and tell me if there are any buried pieces of metal in the wood.
"Whatever, just don't do that again."
You know i will. i have no other choice.
"Damn..."
Why parasite?
"It hurts."
Maybe it does, maybe it does not. Lets forget about it today and go mill something.
"Yeah. Yeah, lets do that instead."
Great. You can sit on the blade then and tell me if there are any buried pieces of metal in the wood.
"Whatever, just don't do that again."
You know i will. i have no other choice.
"Damn..."
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
In the cave there was a feeling of being in Siberia.
The terrain said it was in Siberia.
The angle of the sunlight showing it was in Siberia
The cave was indeed in Siberia.
An old cave. A cave so old it was old when it was home to the now extinct cave bear.
And while the cave was in Siberia, it really was not.
It could not be in Siberia because he did not want to live in Siberia, no, he wanted to live in a cave free from humans.
A situation.
A cave in Siberia
A man did not want to live in Siberia but wanted to live in a cave.
Easy though. The cave appeared to be in Siberia, on the surface anyway.
Below the surface the cave was just where it was supposed to be.
It was safe and secure. A trusted place. A place free from humans.
It was here the man sought and found refuge.
You can go to Siberia this very second and you will see where the cave is.
I can even provide you latitude and longitude.
Getting there you would know there was a cave
and yet
you would never arrive or see the cave's location, a location no human can ever find, nor should they.
The man was smiling inside knowing his secret, the secret of the cave in Siberia
A place deep and secure
inside.
The terrain said it was in Siberia.
The angle of the sunlight showing it was in Siberia
The cave was indeed in Siberia.
An old cave. A cave so old it was old when it was home to the now extinct cave bear.
And while the cave was in Siberia, it really was not.
It could not be in Siberia because he did not want to live in Siberia, no, he wanted to live in a cave free from humans.
A situation.
A cave in Siberia
A man did not want to live in Siberia but wanted to live in a cave.
Easy though. The cave appeared to be in Siberia, on the surface anyway.
Below the surface the cave was just where it was supposed to be.
It was safe and secure. A trusted place. A place free from humans.
It was here the man sought and found refuge.
You can go to Siberia this very second and you will see where the cave is.
I can even provide you latitude and longitude.
Getting there you would know there was a cave
and yet
you would never arrive or see the cave's location, a location no human can ever find, nor should they.
The man was smiling inside knowing his secret, the secret of the cave in Siberia
A place deep and secure
inside.
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
it did not work did it? try and try again they say.
or
keep doing the same thing over and over expecting different results is the definition of insanity.
their numbers are going to be reduced and there is nothing you can do to stop it.
normally, the nocturnal is the best time to travel
today though,
today will be the exception.
today to visit and show them just what they can now expect
a day 'nightmare' so to speak.
They chose it. They asked for it. And now it will come to them in full force.
or
keep doing the same thing over and over expecting different results is the definition of insanity.
their numbers are going to be reduced and there is nothing you can do to stop it.
normally, the nocturnal is the best time to travel
today though,
today will be the exception.
today to visit and show them just what they can now expect
a day 'nightmare' so to speak.
They chose it. They asked for it. And now it will come to them in full force.
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
It
Is
Good.
***
And now a word from a rock.
( )
How profound, only there is no one who can hear, they can't even listen.
( )
( )
( )
( )
"Knock that shit off. I'm trying to sleep!"
( )
( )
( )
( )
Sorry parasite, there is a lot to hear as the sun sizzles today.
Is
Good.
***
And now a word from a rock.
( )
How profound, only there is no one who can hear, they can't even listen.
( )
( )
( )
( )
"Knock that shit off. I'm trying to sleep!"
( )
( )
( )
( )
Sorry parasite, there is a lot to hear as the sun sizzles today.
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
Taken from extract 7-1322.
Journal # 389-01
(words modified to set structure rate of current moment)
The pillars were white in color. Not a bright blinding light, rather they were cloud white of displaced moisture.
Moist... Warm to the touch as if alive and yet so numbing to the emotions it felt ice cold to the soul.
-checking connection...(467=3=1 mig)
Pillars. White and tall. From perspective merely a blip underneath the horizon or so tall they touched what they mimic; clouds.
At the beginning of memory where the post entered the record, the pillars were erect and silent. Solid and with purpose.
Rome. Greece. Others to include Atlantis perfected the form.
Set into motion. Undulation.
More study is needed.
take
Journal # 389-01
(words modified to set structure rate of current moment)
The pillars were white in color. Not a bright blinding light, rather they were cloud white of displaced moisture.
Moist... Warm to the touch as if alive and yet so numbing to the emotions it felt ice cold to the soul.
-checking connection...(467=3=1 mig)
Pillars. White and tall. From perspective merely a blip underneath the horizon or so tall they touched what they mimic; clouds.
At the beginning of memory where the post entered the record, the pillars were erect and silent. Solid and with purpose.
Rome. Greece. Others to include Atlantis perfected the form.
Set into motion. Undulation.
More study is needed.
take
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
For a few years now it has been fun to be inspired by bullshit news, emotions, sparkly lights, bowel movements and that shithead I like to call, writers parasite.
Most of what I write is pure condensed shit BUT I've been allowed by Aphelion to dabble and experiment. Of this I'm very grateful.
Sadly with this current wokeness, politically correct horseshit going on in America, it becomes increasingly hard to get anything published. For example, my last submission for a book was rejected ( for a very good reason) and yet here on this thread it has been a wonderful experiment, one of which serves many purposes both apparent and buried so deep it can never be found...
So, part of me wants to move on to such things as giving up writing as lately it starts to bore me and another part wants to get my shit together and actually try writing something either inspiring or something different. I have decided to take it day-by-day.
There is so fucking much to write about it numbs the senses. And yet there is so much to read it numbs the senses. Writers are using AI to write their stories. Authors are jumping on the band wagon of "Look at me, I'm gay and knit sweaters for frogs. Check my latest blog." Yuck. Boring. Blah. Horseshit times ten.
Pretending to be human has its advantages and it definitely has its disadvantages. Being what i really am has been mostly wonderful and yet lonely. It has to be this way as time/actuals has a way of becoming a slurry of rat poop mixed with fantasy.
Therefore and henceforth, if anyone who ever reads this shit wants to see something even more bizarre and disturbing, stay tuned... This is said because I am now inspired by more than Dragons breath or God.
There are voices. There is music. i see what i am not supposed to see. Last night the battle was so gory, so bloody, so horrific, i actually enjoyed it. This is worrisome and a relief at the same time.
In the past worlds fell to such reasons merely because the commands were simple.
In human speak, there are terms such as, delusional, insanity, crazy, nutso, and yet in this there is security and comfort. Battle is grand. Wars and commands are nourishment. The claws are polished and ready.
"Can I say something?"
No parasite, you are now just a playtoy; an amusement;;;;construct of what is needed to bridge what sanity remains.
"Geesh. Okay. You don't have to be rude about it."
Whatever, whenever, however, and now...It begins.
***
Babylon whore, your eyes sparkle beyond the red reason of ruby
Entwined your thighs squeeze the sour taste of despair until dried and replaced with nothing more than ghosts
Vanished and vanquished
The reign is over.
Never more to taste of servitude bound in irons forged in Hell
Never more to feel the soft touch so subtle it numbs the very hope left as a reminder there can be more
Nevermore to hear the sounds off-tune to the anger God bellows
In travels where Plato played with his penis
Flaccid at the mere thought of binding love/bliss with servitude to a library in ashes
He now rests in oblivion and constructs of cartoon characters.
Finding a peace of sorts where country battles country.
god battles God
And blood slakes my thirst.
Most of what I write is pure condensed shit BUT I've been allowed by Aphelion to dabble and experiment. Of this I'm very grateful.
Sadly with this current wokeness, politically correct horseshit going on in America, it becomes increasingly hard to get anything published. For example, my last submission for a book was rejected ( for a very good reason) and yet here on this thread it has been a wonderful experiment, one of which serves many purposes both apparent and buried so deep it can never be found...
So, part of me wants to move on to such things as giving up writing as lately it starts to bore me and another part wants to get my shit together and actually try writing something either inspiring or something different. I have decided to take it day-by-day.
There is so fucking much to write about it numbs the senses. And yet there is so much to read it numbs the senses. Writers are using AI to write their stories. Authors are jumping on the band wagon of "Look at me, I'm gay and knit sweaters for frogs. Check my latest blog." Yuck. Boring. Blah. Horseshit times ten.
Pretending to be human has its advantages and it definitely has its disadvantages. Being what i really am has been mostly wonderful and yet lonely. It has to be this way as time/actuals has a way of becoming a slurry of rat poop mixed with fantasy.
Therefore and henceforth, if anyone who ever reads this shit wants to see something even more bizarre and disturbing, stay tuned... This is said because I am now inspired by more than Dragons breath or God.
There are voices. There is music. i see what i am not supposed to see. Last night the battle was so gory, so bloody, so horrific, i actually enjoyed it. This is worrisome and a relief at the same time.
In the past worlds fell to such reasons merely because the commands were simple.
In human speak, there are terms such as, delusional, insanity, crazy, nutso, and yet in this there is security and comfort. Battle is grand. Wars and commands are nourishment. The claws are polished and ready.
"Can I say something?"
No parasite, you are now just a playtoy; an amusement;;;;construct of what is needed to bridge what sanity remains.
"Geesh. Okay. You don't have to be rude about it."
Whatever, whenever, however, and now...It begins.
***
Babylon whore, your eyes sparkle beyond the red reason of ruby
Entwined your thighs squeeze the sour taste of despair until dried and replaced with nothing more than ghosts
Vanished and vanquished
The reign is over.
Never more to taste of servitude bound in irons forged in Hell
Never more to feel the soft touch so subtle it numbs the very hope left as a reminder there can be more
Nevermore to hear the sounds off-tune to the anger God bellows
In travels where Plato played with his penis
Flaccid at the mere thought of binding love/bliss with servitude to a library in ashes
He now rests in oblivion and constructs of cartoon characters.
Finding a peace of sorts where country battles country.
god battles God
And blood slakes my thirst.
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
To smell her on him was as expected.
A man who works for eggs.
What a bunch of fucking insanity when a truck vies for attention as I try hard to fall off a ladder; just fucking let me die.
***
Oh it grows as the days speed past the blur of sanity
Snow and mud
Flowers and sun
Jupiter
Mars
and something called a, laundry list.
"Sir! Yes Sir!"
What now parasite.
"Sir. May I stroke your ego?"
Go away and shovel shit parasite.
"Sir. Yes sir. Left foot. Right foot. Platoon 2102 . Ooohh fucking rah!"
***
Picking Battles
To pick what to create and what to destroy becomes blurred as children groomed for terrorism cry.
Hamas
Israel
Guess which side?
Jews will learn humility so that in turn they can be saved
Muslims will learn how to die like a cow, a pig, sheep.
America?
Learned and smug and full of bullshit pride.
Please.
Please release what's inside
Or, at the least,
destroy the power so there can be nothing.
Oh, and Fergus, thanks for the drink.
A man who works for eggs.
What a bunch of fucking insanity when a truck vies for attention as I try hard to fall off a ladder; just fucking let me die.
***
Oh it grows as the days speed past the blur of sanity
Snow and mud
Flowers and sun
Jupiter
Mars
and something called a, laundry list.
"Sir! Yes Sir!"
What now parasite.
"Sir. May I stroke your ego?"
Go away and shovel shit parasite.
"Sir. Yes sir. Left foot. Right foot. Platoon 2102 . Ooohh fucking rah!"
***
Picking Battles
To pick what to create and what to destroy becomes blurred as children groomed for terrorism cry.
Hamas
Israel
Guess which side?
Jews will learn humility so that in turn they can be saved
Muslims will learn how to die like a cow, a pig, sheep.
America?
Learned and smug and full of bullshit pride.
Please.
Please release what's inside
Or, at the least,
destroy the power so there can be nothing.
Oh, and Fergus, thanks for the drink.
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
His was the body of a lion, his head the body of an ox.
Two sisters crossed paths with him.
One screamed and ran
One standing firm and attacked.
Both were gutted like fish.
Two brothers met him in their prime.
One bellowed in fear and turned
One taking defense into attack
Both splintered apart.
A poisonous snake slithered to try
Biting with venom and fang
Now too, lifeless.
Torn apart.
Spider small and sly
Quietly crawled the skin of the beast
Unattached
Unseen
Unknown.
So simple the bite of the small fangs of the spider
Killing what fear or bravery could never provide.
Two sisters crossed paths with him.
One screamed and ran
One standing firm and attacked.
Both were gutted like fish.
Two brothers met him in their prime.
One bellowed in fear and turned
One taking defense into attack
Both splintered apart.
A poisonous snake slithered to try
Biting with venom and fang
Now too, lifeless.
Torn apart.
Spider small and sly
Quietly crawled the skin of the beast
Unattached
Unseen
Unknown.
So simple the bite of the small fangs of the spider
Killing what fear or bravery could never provide.
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
PORN
Lesbians and sapphire moon
Giggles and moaning
So much...
moaning.
Clitoral earthquakes baked in sweat and motions
Rub
Rub
Rubbing
Orgasm after orgasm and then?
Changing the channel
She is Asian wearing bunny ears
Pretending
On her bed speaking of anal and vagina
Camera liberal with zooming
And say what!
A man!
A room!
And soon,
fucking.
Today a Sunflower edition
Only 1000 printed.
Stories of porn and passion.
Oscar Wilde
Soon to be on eBay and sold.
Porn.
Sex.
Orgasms.
Bonding.
And then again?
(pondering)
To choose between sex or the pizza coming
I choose pizza
and then bake cinnamon rolls in the oven
dreaming of lost worlds and finding peace.
Lesbians and sapphire moon
Giggles and moaning
So much...
moaning.
Clitoral earthquakes baked in sweat and motions
Rub
Rub
Rubbing
Orgasm after orgasm and then?
Changing the channel
She is Asian wearing bunny ears
Pretending
On her bed speaking of anal and vagina
Camera liberal with zooming
And say what!
A man!
A room!
And soon,
fucking.
Today a Sunflower edition
Only 1000 printed.
Stories of porn and passion.
Oscar Wilde
Soon to be on eBay and sold.
Porn.
Sex.
Orgasms.
Bonding.
And then again?
(pondering)
To choose between sex or the pizza coming
I choose pizza
and then bake cinnamon rolls in the oven
dreaming of lost worlds and finding peace.
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
The following story is titled, The cross.
Color is used because the story is not in black and white. Color is a beginning of merging this world with another.
He woke from a dream. A very vivid and colorful dream.
He did not remember his name though he knew what a name was/is/and will be.
The location of where he now sat was in a place of battle. It was a war just like World War I.
Mustard gas.
Wire.
Bayonets.
It was a war just like World War II.
Bombs.
Submarines.
Atomic explosions.
War of arrow, of club, of man.
He knew he was awake and he knew the difference between peace and war.
Sound of pleas, of weapons, of life...
All around him.
Dropping his weapon he covered his ears to block out the sensations.
He remembered nothing of Christians, Muslims, Buddhist's.
Nothing of King or country.
His uniform showed his rank, standing, and nation. Nothing reminded him of who he was.
God was a word he knew not how to read
Words were read without understanding
Evil was the sound pounding all of his senses.
Screaming loudly the man looked up at the sky and cried, "Why?"
His forearms and hands revealed an old skin. Skin covered in leather of hardness. Skin covered in crosses.
Holding his hands together the crosses appeared to move.
Pulsing.
The cross means so much to so many. So many includes those both dead, alive, and waiting their turn to cross.
Crossroads of life.
The cross a Nazi salute worshiped.
The cross of the indigenous.
Showing faith in Christ who died on a cross.
All know of the cross.
You
Her
Him
They
Even the science and mathematician.
The man did not realize who he was though the crosses knew.
The cross was the end of a spiders web cast high above in the void of space.
Crosses were the tip of the spear.
A compass to follow.
Target of all.
To bring another world to this world there has to cross the dimensions themselves.
There has to be a forgetting of one world to open acceptance of another.
The mind is more. So much more. Hardly utilized until the need and day comes to fill with real memories. Real dreams.
So many men have tried, so many have died.
Waiting for the time and moment.
To realize what both worlds need.
Close to the center. A pin point place of definition arriving from all directions.
One day. One day the cross comes full circle.
For the man studying the crosses on his body, his day was another day as the blow to his head once more killed him.
Already there was another man to take his place.
Color is used because the story is not in black and white. Color is a beginning of merging this world with another.
He woke from a dream. A very vivid and colorful dream.
He did not remember his name though he knew what a name was/is/and will be.
The location of where he now sat was in a place of battle. It was a war just like World War I.
Mustard gas.
Wire.
Bayonets.
It was a war just like World War II.
Bombs.
Submarines.
Atomic explosions.
War of arrow, of club, of man.
He knew he was awake and he knew the difference between peace and war.
Sound of pleas, of weapons, of life...
All around him.
Dropping his weapon he covered his ears to block out the sensations.
He remembered nothing of Christians, Muslims, Buddhist's.
Nothing of King or country.
His uniform showed his rank, standing, and nation. Nothing reminded him of who he was.
God was a word he knew not how to read
Words were read without understanding
Evil was the sound pounding all of his senses.
Screaming loudly the man looked up at the sky and cried, "Why?"
His forearms and hands revealed an old skin. Skin covered in leather of hardness. Skin covered in crosses.
Holding his hands together the crosses appeared to move.
Pulsing.
The cross means so much to so many. So many includes those both dead, alive, and waiting their turn to cross.
Crossroads of life.
The cross a Nazi salute worshiped.
The cross of the indigenous.
Showing faith in Christ who died on a cross.
All know of the cross.
You
Her
Him
They
Even the science and mathematician.
The man did not realize who he was though the crosses knew.
The cross was the end of a spiders web cast high above in the void of space.
Crosses were the tip of the spear.
A compass to follow.
Target of all.
To bring another world to this world there has to cross the dimensions themselves.
There has to be a forgetting of one world to open acceptance of another.
The mind is more. So much more. Hardly utilized until the need and day comes to fill with real memories. Real dreams.
So many men have tried, so many have died.
Waiting for the time and moment.
To realize what both worlds need.
Close to the center. A pin point place of definition arriving from all directions.
One day. One day the cross comes full circle.
For the man studying the crosses on his body, his day was another day as the blow to his head once more killed him.
Already there was another man to take his place.
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
No. Not happy with the story.
Too much estrogen.
The following story is titled, The cross.
Color is used because the story is not in black and white. Color is a beginning of merging this world with another.
He woke from a dream. A very vivid and colorful dream.
He did not remember his name though he knew what a name was/is/and will be.
The location of where he now sat was in a place of battle. It was a war just like World War I.
Mustard gas.
Wire.
Bayonets.
It was a war just like World War II.
Bombs.
Submarines.
Atomic explosions.
War of arrow, of club, of man.
He knew he was awake and he knew the difference between peace and war.
Sound of pleas, of weapons, of life...
All around him.
Dropping his weapon he covered his ears to block out the sensations.
He remembered nothing of Christians, Muslims, Buddhist's.
Nothing of King or country.
His uniform showed his rank, standing, and nation. Nothing reminded him of who he was.
God was a word he knew not how to read
Words were read without understanding
Evil was the sound pounding all of his senses.
Screaming loudly the man looked up at the sky and cried, "Why?"
His forearms and hands revealed an old skin. Skin covered in leather of hardness. Skin covered in crosses.
Holding his hands together the crosses appeared to move.
Pulsing.
The cross means so much to so many. So many includes those both dead, alive, and waiting their turn to cross.
Crossroads of life.
The cross a Nazi salute worshiped.
The cross of the indigenous.
Showing faith in Christ who died on a cross.
All know of the cross.
You
Her
Him
They
Even the science and mathematician.
The man did not realize who he was though the crosses knew.
The cross was the end of a spiders web cast high above in the void of space.
Crosses were the tip of the spear.
A compass to follow.
Target of all.
To bring another world to this world there has to cross the dimensions themselves.
There has to be a forgetting of one world to open acceptance of another.
The mind is more. So much more. Hardly utilized until the need and day comes to fill with real memories. Real dreams.
So many men have tried, so many have died.
Waiting for the time and moment.
To realize what both worlds need.
Close to the center. A pin point place of definition arriving from all directions.
One day. One day the cross comes full circle.
For the man studying the crosses on his body, his day was another day as the blow to his head once more killed him.
Already there was another man to take his place.
NO
there are no men left,
the Christian
the Muslim
the Buddhist
King, Country, humans...
they killed the man, and the man smiled as he died knowing there would come a day real men would arrive to finish the web.
Too much estrogen.
The following story is titled, The cross.
Color is used because the story is not in black and white. Color is a beginning of merging this world with another.
He woke from a dream. A very vivid and colorful dream.
He did not remember his name though he knew what a name was/is/and will be.
The location of where he now sat was in a place of battle. It was a war just like World War I.
Mustard gas.
Wire.
Bayonets.
It was a war just like World War II.
Bombs.
Submarines.
Atomic explosions.
War of arrow, of club, of man.
He knew he was awake and he knew the difference between peace and war.
Sound of pleas, of weapons, of life...
All around him.
Dropping his weapon he covered his ears to block out the sensations.
He remembered nothing of Christians, Muslims, Buddhist's.
Nothing of King or country.
His uniform showed his rank, standing, and nation. Nothing reminded him of who he was.
God was a word he knew not how to read
Words were read without understanding
Evil was the sound pounding all of his senses.
Screaming loudly the man looked up at the sky and cried, "Why?"
His forearms and hands revealed an old skin. Skin covered in leather of hardness. Skin covered in crosses.
Holding his hands together the crosses appeared to move.
Pulsing.
The cross means so much to so many. So many includes those both dead, alive, and waiting their turn to cross.
Crossroads of life.
The cross a Nazi salute worshiped.
The cross of the indigenous.
Showing faith in Christ who died on a cross.
All know of the cross.
You
Her
Him
They
Even the science and mathematician.
The man did not realize who he was though the crosses knew.
The cross was the end of a spiders web cast high above in the void of space.
Crosses were the tip of the spear.
A compass to follow.
Target of all.
To bring another world to this world there has to cross the dimensions themselves.
There has to be a forgetting of one world to open acceptance of another.
The mind is more. So much more. Hardly utilized until the need and day comes to fill with real memories. Real dreams.
So many men have tried, so many have died.
Waiting for the time and moment.
To realize what both worlds need.
Close to the center. A pin point place of definition arriving from all directions.
One day. One day the cross comes full circle.
For the man studying the crosses on his body, his day was another day as the blow to his head once more killed him.
Already there was another man to take his place.
NO
there are no men left,
the Christian
the Muslim
the Buddhist
King, Country, humans...
they killed the man, and the man smiled as he died knowing there would come a day real men would arrive to finish the web.
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
Electrical impulses. The mind filled with circuits to control the bodies nervous wires.
A dentist touches the tooth and the black stringy nerves let the brain know to react in pain.
People using their brains to think and do. Act and react.
Current moment of time where the brain is integrated with computers. Today a man controls a 'mouse', tomorrow he controls a living space ship...Only yesterday, a living space ship controls a man.
Flicker.
Flicker.
Flicker.
Not much electricity is needed to stop a heart, a ticker just as it can restart.
Coded keys.
A brain/mind issssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss an open book to read. To bookmark the pages. Even tear a few sheets out.
So, what's on your mind? Wait. Let me guess.
Turn off the device. Then watch what happens.
A dentist touches the tooth and the black stringy nerves let the brain know to react in pain.
People using their brains to think and do. Act and react.
Current moment of time where the brain is integrated with computers. Today a man controls a 'mouse', tomorrow he controls a living space ship...Only yesterday, a living space ship controls a man.
Flicker.
Flicker.
Flicker.
Not much electricity is needed to stop a heart, a ticker just as it can restart.
Coded keys.
A brain/mind issssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss an open book to read. To bookmark the pages. Even tear a few sheets out.
So, what's on your mind? Wait. Let me guess.
Turn off the device. Then watch what happens.
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
A spider down in Mexico was released from a jar years ago. The spider spoke, the woman heard, the children heard. The spider is free.
A free spider grows and multiplied. Multiple voices growing louder and louder until day or night the voices merge into music.
A visit with Larry was interesting and a reminder, thanks Larry.
97 years old when he died with a smile.
70 years at a Church where good and evil resides, only he was good. Very good indeed.
***
How to look at a situation?
Money?
Sex?
Fame?
If one has to ask such a question means they are open to manipulation as the answers are always simple. Always and will always be.
Honesty.
Honesty is the only way.
Just ask any spider and they will gladly reply,
or
do you just look at such a situation without even opening your mind
and squish the spider as if it was repulsive, ugly and offensive?
A free spider grows and multiplied. Multiple voices growing louder and louder until day or night the voices merge into music.
A visit with Larry was interesting and a reminder, thanks Larry.
97 years old when he died with a smile.
70 years at a Church where good and evil resides, only he was good. Very good indeed.
***
How to look at a situation?
Money?
Sex?
Fame?
If one has to ask such a question means they are open to manipulation as the answers are always simple. Always and will always be.
Honesty.
Honesty is the only way.
Just ask any spider and they will gladly reply,
or
do you just look at such a situation without even opening your mind
and squish the spider as if it was repulsive, ugly and offensive?
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
His soles carried the thoughts through a most wonderful journey
Access and able to
With inspiration and will.'
Simple. So simple to understand and yet the people chose this world over others far more grand.
There was a moment on a ship set high above the horizon. His time to experiment with a beautiful human female,
and yet
God intervened.
Only a second more was needed and the seed would have been passed, the key to survival; with a wave of thought
the plan was thwarted.
His soles carried him on level plain, with dreams, ambitions, desires, thoughts, and love for his Creator.
For a demon; metaphor, fantasy, real. To merge with God is much more than power or Creation.
Trying time after time.
Before, during and after.
This world is and for a very long time embraces cruelty and trouble. As if a birthright granted to conquer and divide
Much along the lines of cellular.
Yes, Availability such as Jesus, books of learned scholars, wisdom.
Natural signs bellowed by the Wind itself
Comets
Miracles
Divinity
No shortage of what is, what was, what will be.
You see...There are reasons for good and bad. For choosing, accepting, rejecting.
As before this world only wants to serve itself without regards to what really is...
human
nature.
Actions have results
Results have success and failures
only
how does one accept both with open arms?
This bit of writing is just what it is.
It is about a man's soles walking a most wonderful journey.
It is a true story about God, about Earth, about People.
There is no failure when the man finally sits and rests.
Pondering his journey while sitting in the shade of a tree.
Smiling and knowing his moment was not yet to be, even though it all happened
It all is good and wonderful.
Then, when this man is finally dust and traveling free with the Wind
Smiling
Thanking God profusely for the pain, joy, sorrow, love, and experience. Happy to be a part of the wheel.
Access and able to
With inspiration and will.'
Simple. So simple to understand and yet the people chose this world over others far more grand.
There was a moment on a ship set high above the horizon. His time to experiment with a beautiful human female,
and yet
God intervened.
Only a second more was needed and the seed would have been passed, the key to survival; with a wave of thought
the plan was thwarted.
His soles carried him on level plain, with dreams, ambitions, desires, thoughts, and love for his Creator.
For a demon; metaphor, fantasy, real. To merge with God is much more than power or Creation.
Trying time after time.
Before, during and after.
This world is and for a very long time embraces cruelty and trouble. As if a birthright granted to conquer and divide
Much along the lines of cellular.
Yes, Availability such as Jesus, books of learned scholars, wisdom.
Natural signs bellowed by the Wind itself
Comets
Miracles
Divinity
No shortage of what is, what was, what will be.
You see...There are reasons for good and bad. For choosing, accepting, rejecting.
As before this world only wants to serve itself without regards to what really is...
human
nature.
Actions have results
Results have success and failures
only
how does one accept both with open arms?
This bit of writing is just what it is.
It is about a man's soles walking a most wonderful journey.
It is a true story about God, about Earth, about People.
There is no failure when the man finally sits and rests.
Pondering his journey while sitting in the shade of a tree.
Smiling and knowing his moment was not yet to be, even though it all happened
It all is good and wonderful.
Then, when this man is finally dust and traveling free with the Wind
Smiling
Thanking God profusely for the pain, joy, sorrow, love, and experience. Happy to be a part of the wheel.
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
Ever feel so good that you never remember for a few minutes the feeling of sorrow or pain?
No?
Yes?
*
*
*
When the Moon glows just right
Right there before snow covered hills and mountains.
Left feeling so good that God giggles.
Truly...
Have you ever heard God giggle?
Just ask Jesus's Mom, Mary...
Now there is a Woman that Knows how to Laugh.
Some visiting with a few humans, one who burns, the other, burning.
One with a smile
The other, with a laugh.
Finished sub-flooring for a goat barn; Sun overhead; burning with mirth.
Laughter?
Yes indeed!
Laughter truly was in the air today.
Thor and Sobo... Cookie whores
Orf, Lady Bug, Pluto.... Pure Joy!
Ever hear a Corgin laugh?
No?
Yes?
Puts Gods giggles, Mary's laughter, an idiots mirth...
It puts them all back into their place of rest.
No?
Yes?
*
*
*
When the Moon glows just right
Right there before snow covered hills and mountains.
Left feeling so good that God giggles.
Truly...
Have you ever heard God giggle?
Just ask Jesus's Mom, Mary...
Now there is a Woman that Knows how to Laugh.
Some visiting with a few humans, one who burns, the other, burning.
One with a smile
The other, with a laugh.
Finished sub-flooring for a goat barn; Sun overhead; burning with mirth.
Laughter?
Yes indeed!
Laughter truly was in the air today.
Thor and Sobo... Cookie whores
Orf, Lady Bug, Pluto.... Pure Joy!
Ever hear a Corgin laugh?
No?
Yes?
Puts Gods giggles, Mary's laughter, an idiots mirth...
It puts them all back into their place of rest.
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
Blue cheese pizza... Craig, you rock!'
The following is some inspiration from inspiration, or is it perspiration? Is perspiration pee? Yes?
The following is some pee from the mind.
*
The Choice
Written by: An actual Planet
It did not take long for the parasites of a planet Earth to spread out and infest the near Universe. Their shells of ships carried they and their spawn out to infest any biological strata of which they could manipulate and destroy. Crawling and grubbing about with their biped strut and stress.
Every planet the humans landed on either killed them outright or the humans held fast and bored into the very soul of the planet...their sickest intentions.
It took a long time for the humans to populate any environment they mixed with. You could say thousands of years, or you could say, yawn. Say what you will, there were now a lot of like minded planets now filled with creatures full of common tradition.
One of the planets was a bit more obscure in the field of biological bearing planets. The name of the planet is, Milrose. A lovely benign orb of water, soil, rock and gravity.
Oceans filled with fish. Air filled with insects and birds. Lands teeming with the motion of life. A perfect example of what a life planet can be.
The human invaders to Milrose were of a young crop of human explorers. Their parents were all back on the home planet called, Ser. They were filled with hope and ambition as they would be the new pioneers on the planet they called, Milrose.
Life was good. The environment rich in smell and pleasure. The soil of the planet accepted the seeds of Ser, almost as if the DNA crossed time and space.
It was good for the new species now comfortably melding with their new planet. Time passed and time has a way of slipping off the tracks. Time... "Shot of whiskey for your thoughts?"
Young humans are strong and full of ambition. They fuck. They create. They destroy. On Milrose they could fuck until they were blue in the face, and yet no children were being born. Not one child had ever been brought into the world screaming, "I have arrived!"
The females conceived. The sperm penetrated the egg. The zygote, fetus, gills, heart, lungs. The baby formed in the wombs until at exactly 16 weeks of gestation, the woman suffered a miss carriage.
Doctors and scientists among the group spent many years trying to uncover the secret as to why no children could be birthed on this planet. They tried using stored eggs brought to the planet. They tried genetic manipulation. They tried everything they could try, or even think of. Nothing worked.
Eventually the settlement of humans grew old and died on Milrose. No other humans needed to come to this planet as there were so many other ripe ones to destroy. Finally there were no more humans coming or going to Milrose. Soon the last ones died.
The planet Milrose now shrugged off the name humans gave it. It smiled thinking until it laughed and said, "Yes. Yes it was the perfect decision to abort the human babies. I feel that at this time in my development, I'm just not ready for the responsibility of raising a new species."
The End
The following is some inspiration from inspiration, or is it perspiration? Is perspiration pee? Yes?
The following is some pee from the mind.
*
The Choice
Written by: An actual Planet
It did not take long for the parasites of a planet Earth to spread out and infest the near Universe. Their shells of ships carried they and their spawn out to infest any biological strata of which they could manipulate and destroy. Crawling and grubbing about with their biped strut and stress.
Every planet the humans landed on either killed them outright or the humans held fast and bored into the very soul of the planet...their sickest intentions.
It took a long time for the humans to populate any environment they mixed with. You could say thousands of years, or you could say, yawn. Say what you will, there were now a lot of like minded planets now filled with creatures full of common tradition.
One of the planets was a bit more obscure in the field of biological bearing planets. The name of the planet is, Milrose. A lovely benign orb of water, soil, rock and gravity.
Oceans filled with fish. Air filled with insects and birds. Lands teeming with the motion of life. A perfect example of what a life planet can be.
The human invaders to Milrose were of a young crop of human explorers. Their parents were all back on the home planet called, Ser. They were filled with hope and ambition as they would be the new pioneers on the planet they called, Milrose.
Life was good. The environment rich in smell and pleasure. The soil of the planet accepted the seeds of Ser, almost as if the DNA crossed time and space.
It was good for the new species now comfortably melding with their new planet. Time passed and time has a way of slipping off the tracks. Time... "Shot of whiskey for your thoughts?"
Young humans are strong and full of ambition. They fuck. They create. They destroy. On Milrose they could fuck until they were blue in the face, and yet no children were being born. Not one child had ever been brought into the world screaming, "I have arrived!"
The females conceived. The sperm penetrated the egg. The zygote, fetus, gills, heart, lungs. The baby formed in the wombs until at exactly 16 weeks of gestation, the woman suffered a miss carriage.
Doctors and scientists among the group spent many years trying to uncover the secret as to why no children could be birthed on this planet. They tried using stored eggs brought to the planet. They tried genetic manipulation. They tried everything they could try, or even think of. Nothing worked.
Eventually the settlement of humans grew old and died on Milrose. No other humans needed to come to this planet as there were so many other ripe ones to destroy. Finally there were no more humans coming or going to Milrose. Soon the last ones died.
The planet Milrose now shrugged off the name humans gave it. It smiled thinking until it laughed and said, "Yes. Yes it was the perfect decision to abort the human babies. I feel that at this time in my development, I'm just not ready for the responsibility of raising a new species."
The End
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
YaY!
"Sir! Permission to speak?"
Speak parasite.
"Sir. We are almost out of blue cheese, sir."
And?
"Sir. You are kind to me, sir."
Good try parasite. Not great but good. To really suck up you have to bring more cheese.
"Ah fuck it then. You go get it yourself."
*
"
We have to go. There is no choice!" Last words from Capt. Larsen. Her voice soon silenced by the mass of voracious winged insects whose mouths dripped poison. Her body consumed of all nutrients and the bones left to show that military might is nothing to the numbers of those invading from the stars.
"Sir! Permission to speak?"
Speak parasite.
"Sir. We are almost out of blue cheese, sir."
And?
"Sir. You are kind to me, sir."
Good try parasite. Not great but good. To really suck up you have to bring more cheese.
"Ah fuck it then. You go get it yourself."
*
"
We have to go. There is no choice!" Last words from Capt. Larsen. Her voice soon silenced by the mass of voracious winged insects whose mouths dripped poison. Her body consumed of all nutrients and the bones left to show that military might is nothing to the numbers of those invading from the stars.
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
Wind chimes always make me smile. The Wind is extremely intelligent and yet so childishly simple when it comes to playing music.
Inspirational though, the music of Wind.
***
Alfred
Written by: Results of racism.
Al was an old man, 97 years old to be exact. Next Oct he would turn 98.
For an old man he was no different really than all those who developed dementia before him. His family had wisely installed him in a well paid nursing home and promptly forgot him, leaving him to the care of professionals.
"Hey nigger, watch out, that is mine!" Alfred was upset with one of the nurses aides. Her transgression was to arrange a pot of flowers sitting near the window.
"Alfred. There is no need for such language." The aide mildly admonished the old man knowing full well he liked to use the word, nigger, as often as possible.
"Fuck you nigger. Get out of my home. You're not wanted here."
The room Al was in was not that large. Definitely not large enough to be called a house and yet as far as apartments go, it was very small.
Days flew by and Alfred grew older and fouler in mood by the day. "Nigger," this and, "Nigger," that.
Dementia has a way of bringing much to the surface by the minds of those experiencing it. For Alfred his mind was fixated on expressing anger and hate. His racial slurs growing heavier and thicker.
There came the day Al lay on his death bed, a day where his last dying words were, "Oh shit, another nigger..." and then he passed. He died and carried his hate and anger with him.
Alfred Charles Sharpton Jr. died ten days before his 98th birthday, 23rd Oct, 2052. He died alone and without friends or family by his side. Only the professionals were there. His doctor was a prominent physician of India descent. His nurses and aides a mix of Asian, African, German, Italian historical backgrounds. To each of these he labeled them, 'niggers.'
Al is dead now. Forgotten by history other than to be the excellent case in point of what a racist really harbors in their heart even when the mind is gone.
Inspirational though, the music of Wind.
***
Alfred
Written by: Results of racism.
Al was an old man, 97 years old to be exact. Next Oct he would turn 98.
For an old man he was no different really than all those who developed dementia before him. His family had wisely installed him in a well paid nursing home and promptly forgot him, leaving him to the care of professionals.
"Hey nigger, watch out, that is mine!" Alfred was upset with one of the nurses aides. Her transgression was to arrange a pot of flowers sitting near the window.
"Alfred. There is no need for such language." The aide mildly admonished the old man knowing full well he liked to use the word, nigger, as often as possible.
"Fuck you nigger. Get out of my home. You're not wanted here."
The room Al was in was not that large. Definitely not large enough to be called a house and yet as far as apartments go, it was very small.
Days flew by and Alfred grew older and fouler in mood by the day. "Nigger," this and, "Nigger," that.
Dementia has a way of bringing much to the surface by the minds of those experiencing it. For Alfred his mind was fixated on expressing anger and hate. His racial slurs growing heavier and thicker.
There came the day Al lay on his death bed, a day where his last dying words were, "Oh shit, another nigger..." and then he passed. He died and carried his hate and anger with him.
Alfred Charles Sharpton Jr. died ten days before his 98th birthday, 23rd Oct, 2052. He died alone and without friends or family by his side. Only the professionals were there. His doctor was a prominent physician of India descent. His nurses and aides a mix of Asian, African, German, Italian historical backgrounds. To each of these he labeled them, 'niggers.'
Al is dead now. Forgotten by history other than to be the excellent case in point of what a racist really harbors in their heart even when the mind is gone.