Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]

I take offense to that! A Volvo takes away jobs from American car companies! Those damn Swedes and their Volvo's...

"Hey numb nuts. Not Volvo, Lester said, "Vulva"."

Oh... okay. I still am offended by Volvo's.

"Whatever dude, I'm going to go play with my front hole(s) now."

You go for it parasite. Go get a hole-in-one.
*
Words are fun. Pres Clinton said, "It depends on what the definition of is, is."

An 'illegal immigrant' is now a 'registered Democrat'.

Up is down

Bad is good

but at least... front holes are fun!
***

Cricket Talk

Peeling back the board
revealed
the sound maker of rubbing feet

Elusive and hidden
though brought to light
with a laugh and touch
escape

Hop
Skip
Run

And then, finding a crack
hiding away

I know though, with a swirl of wind
tonight
the crickets will speak again.

A lot of talk on the television about 'corruption'. Imagine that... Government and corruption... Who'd of thunk?

I miss the Roman empire. Poison in a political rivals wine, a venomous snake in a bed of an adversary, putting enemies decapitated heads on stakes...

At least while Rome had corruption at the same time, it did have entertainment! They tried to feed me to some lions in some colosseum and the lions took one sniff of my stinky body and went and ate some poor bastards dressed in chicken costumes.

***

Good Ol Days of Corruption

Seeing Adam kiss Eve for the first time with an apple in their eye
Cain and Able kicking the shit of each other
Moses learning to swim in the Red Sea

So many battles and blood
even sacrifices made

Romans and Gauls...
Oh my
What a scene!

French revolution was festive and fun
especially the blade of the guillotine

Civil wars
Feuds
Crying
Screams

And when you thought it couldn't get any better
WWI
WWII
and soon
WWIII

I just love the history, the memories buried inside
and await the demise of billions
when the world is buried deep, resting under my feet...
you see,
Death is my name.

balance
a\
l\\\
a\\\\
n\\\\\
c\\\\\\\
e\\\\\\\\...)(---..--.-
///////
/////
///
//
/

To teeter one must totter
Lunge forward leaving something back
Hate needs love
Love needs hate
Bullies need victims
Victims need bullies
Up needs down
Facts need fiction
Fiction needs fact

Overpopulation?
Diseases/war/death corrects

Under population?
Bounty brings sex brings life back

Currently the world lived in, embraced by billions
is out of whack
and thus...
most will not like what is going to happen
to bring a world back into balance
balance always wins'
no matter if you believe in fiction
or fact.

says the man in the hotel window
feather cast as dawns shadow
brought to tears by memory of wind

in the distance the bridge freezes
flakes too
falling in whim

within the rain quenches
coolness of time
sifting passages to oceans brim

Group minded bunch of collective herd followers
Following what group minded bunch of collective herd followers
follow...

Rules
Subsets
Parameters
Traditions
Levels...

Master
to
novice
or is it, novice to master?

Master of what? A world of group(s) all group minded bunch of collective herd followers?
Yes
of course
Discovery for the first time when last forgotten
Forgetting the basics
Forgetting so much they think they remember...

For most, forgetting is best as to remember will only lead to the reality of forgotten
For some, forgetting more than most will have forgotten they are a member of the herd
For inside, forgetting can never be forgotten as the knowledge burns a permanent scar.

Sliver

sliver slicing skin
subsurface
searing
sore

so

sticking stops
slowly
slowly
slowly

sending signal soaring
screams
such
sensations...

suddenly
stopping

still

sore
staying sleep
secure staying sore

and so
it is until the sliver is removed.

What a View

Toes cling to earth, clutching to stay rooted
above the sway
above the horizon
below swept arm
a view

So much beauty and what sincere
carrying clouds, birds, light, and bee's
fingers wiggling
inside
giggling
a view indeed

Today
Tomorrow
with so many
Yesterdays

Seasons?
Winter, Spring, Summer, Fall
all bringing into view
a picture
vibrant
living the day.

Johnny Cash

Body spent, paid-in-full
Folsom prison
Train tracks and time

Guitar picking
picking up the blue rhythms of a moment

Leaving sounds for all to hear
tape, digital, record, paper, mind
as most are alone in their travels

On the road again
music
a friend of mine.

tocu touch
t
t
tocu feeling
t
t
tocu embrace

*
on first thought, a chance
on second thought, a moment
on third, the past

**

under wind///g, down to down
skin smooth
so smooth it brings
tips of wings together

***

one single honey bee today
checking past fields dry
a sweet.

took a stumble, falling down into the Milky Way
bands binding and catching the big toe

dusting off the comet
spitting out the moon
drying aspirations with sun

getting up to realize
maybe life truly is
a dream

bollybogs

by

bee bee bear

and


me

(clamit si si)

Vajaja as wide...with time expending
expanding
exploding...

Riding thrust
thrusting motion
nova noticing...
BOOM!

Little we buggers
salted Universe
aloof stars.

Logic and common sense,
'Spirit of the Wild'
A dessert so tasty
God's
Full.

Eight days a week and on the 9th
it rested
techo vibe with tribal beat
smashing
crashing
headshaking
racket

Serena cries, "Men can do it!"
Coaching
tears
and mock sympathy for boorish behavior

Eight days a week and on the 9th
it is
just another fantasy path to better
than fishes.

Swim
Swimming
Swam
double-stroke
Aces.

Human conditions of varying degree's... are truly inspirational for writers.
Alcoholics are one source.
As such, Scott, this one's for you.

"I'll drink to that!"

So would I parasite, so would I.
***

Ice Scoop

Up or down?
Right or wrong...
Swatting wasps with a racket attracted to reeking pores of self induced
bliss

Stumbling around in a haze of importance
Delusions of fantastic
and a fire truck

Putting out one and lighting another
pouring back to recharge
and sleep

Knowing workers are drones and slaves
IQ above a level of conscious
and why?

the world could be yours though your world is the way you like it
Grandeur
Idea's
Money
Pie...

When you burn a bridge, the boats too, scatter
leaving such as you
high
and
dry.

Along with human conditions providing writing inspiration, so too, historical events.

Take the United States for example. A civil war was fought. North against the South. After the war, memorials and stories were written about the victors and losers. For years, statues of Confederate people of importance, those people who were of historical note are now being toppled and derided. History is always rewritten by modern writers of mood and choice. Always has been this way and it always will.

Recently, it is popular by many to follow personal whims and desires with no thought to self-sacrifice or honor. Just look at those toppling a statue because they don't 'like' it...

A country is only as healthy as those who live in it and sacrifice their will for the greater good of others, even if that sacrifice goes against their personal beliefs. Writing too, is only as good as those authors who write with sacrifice. Blog writers, opinion writers... authors of any kind that only bloviate and press the 'topic of the moment' will fade away with history leaving those authors such as, Anne Frank, Adolf Hitler, Mark Twain... (those authors who for whatever a 'modern' person of belief would consider them to be good OR evil) those authors who truly bled for their writing... will endure the whacky world of 'the moment'.

Today is the anniversary of 9-11. A day a group of people caught up in their belief to the point of sacrificing themselves by killing thousands by hijacking commercial planes into the Trade Towers; a group of others who sacrificed themselves trying to save the people being killed; finally, the victims who were sacrificed for no other reason than being caught in the 'moment'.

Will humanity ever learn from history? Of course, the answer is a definite no. And this means that there will always be authors who will last the coming thousands of years writing the sacrifice of Good and Evil...and the billions of writers who only embrace the flavor of the moment that will fade away faster than a tulip can stay in bloom.

Thus, all inspirational.

***

Writer

By what means is the word put to test
measuring the mettle of the proud and meek
with a question, an answer, a fact, a belief?

Words are slaves to a master
unless
the master give the words the page to be free

Then

How does the story, the news, the history unfold
when a word has nothing sincere
nothing
not a drop of blood
not even the slightest feeling of pain?

There are those who try to kill with opinion, with belief, with selfish greed
not in flesh but in actions of releasing the words
to be
'free'

Freedom of expression
First Amendment
United States of America
Land of the free...

Ask the terrorists who gave their lives for their belief
Ask the 9-11 victims slaughtered while trapped in death as the towers broke free
Ask the first responder's, the police, the firemen who gave their lives to try and save strangers, those even
with opposing beliefs...
Ask them, ask anyone who has given the ultimate sacrifice...
and the answer would be,
nothing,
nothing in this world is free.

It was a great day. Matts puppy found my glasses where I stored them 'safely' and she brought them to me. Only ten weeks old and definitely showing an old soul residing inside.

Weather is great. Work goes well. A predictable planet full of daily consumption.

All, very, very, humorous, and... inspirational.

A thanks goes out to one who toys with the vibrations.
***

Misguided

Ms
Miss
Mississippi

Misused
Misunderstood
Missive

Maybe?

Maybe there is no box to think in or out of?
Maybe opinions of all are right?
Maybe though it may all be true...

Mistake? No
Misery? No
Mystery? Ah, definitely yes.

noodles mixed to same
with roiling, boiling, same
same ambitions
same trepidations
same screams...

agent Barton
the noodles are about to
burn...

Ouch!
*
"Hey, who the hell are you? Never seen you around here before." Ah yes, the parasite. Full and sated from a recent orgy frolicking with dolphins swimming off one of the pristine isles of Greece.

"My name is Murphy. Commonly called by many, Murphy's Law."

"Huh? Heard that somewhere... Oh. Yeah! You're the prick responsible for the whole, 'if it can go wrong, it will...' shit?"

"Yep. That's me. I don't really cause bad luck I reinforce the stupid decisions people make."

"Well, I'm not a person. I'm a parasite and nothing you are can have ANY impact on me, in fact... OH SHIT!" Picture a parasite that is uglier than sin stepping in a fresh, steamy pile of corgi shit. That's what the parasite just did.

"Did you cause that?" The parasite asked while scraping off the crap on a rock.

"Mmm, a bit maybe. You are an arrogant prick afterall that needed to be brought down a notch or two. Like it?"

"I don't like you Murphy."

"That's okay parasite, you'll be just fine, just watch out for that razor sharp harpoon Robin has hanging over..."

"Ouch! I really really don't like you Murphy. Go away!"

"Sorry, can't do that. Got lots and lots of reinforcing to do."
***

Bad Luck

Is bad luck bad?
Good luck usually brings bad luck and bad luck brings
relief.

Hitting a thumb with a hammer leads to healing, a new nail, and memories
Losing money leads to having none which leads to finding the best of finer things
in what is free such life brings.

What if all that existed was good luck?
Then without bad luck, what would the meaning of life
be?

Balance of course
ever the balance
and that is what bad luck
brings.

She and he entered, and then the inspiration sang.
***

Eyes, the tell to the truth, shined
She, wanting to fuck, he, the same.
Two pairs in one, looking for attention\
and then
attention came

Coming into attraction, another
black suit, tight, and thin
tattoo;s of status...
in her belly button, a jewel shining bright

Swimming, head floating, a man, her 'companion'
Sex again, always the sex until
his mind opened

So easy such as he who collects data
Processing
Analyzing
Predicting
Chaos/Predictable
patterns...

Sim[pl]e words spoken such simple words
they too
revealing the
patterns...

Talk of AI
Of how 'smart' he knew
so much experience
Alien data
behind-the-scenes
pulling-strings
controlling
the patterns...

Simple though, how does one such as he
so set, so smug, so predictable...
answer?

A simple question:
How to explain data, precise and true
How to explain data that provides truth
in three totally
separate ways?

Three layers, one upon the other
yet
still
the same data.

Patterns, balance, tits-and-ass
Attention
Knowledge
Bringing mirth and laughter.

Powerful...

The word, powerful, is powerful. Similar to wonderful. Maybe mindful? Of course! So much in common, the words...

Today was powerful. Recharging. Needed. Last night, so much were brought to fucking... For humans, everyday is a day/night for fucking. Humans thrive on fucking. Sex. Sucking. Humping.Last night for so many, it was this way

For other creatures though... today was powerful for an entirely different reason(s) So obvious. Above. Below. All around.

And for a writer, very powerful inspiration.
***

Crazy
Strange
Bizarre
Insane...

Ah, the comfort of showing and knowing
this life
in chains

Worlds so close you can reach out and touch
or fly
or swim
blurring lines
but the smells?

Dancing shadows
Joking rhymes
a stink bug, so simple yet, so nice

Marauders tried but were denied
All around, the gifts remained unwrapped waiting for the proper time
Oh yes, the gift, the Gift for the masses
like a school of fishes they will swallow the bait
content though, as always, with a penis or vagina
a release, a means, a fix

Today, a special day, though as outside the bats fly by
they too, share in denial
stars and moon and such with so much in common with those made of clay and dust
...
has anyone noticed though, today, the absence of a very important part?
Playful, impish; watching the play unfold brings gladness to the heart.

The Harvest

Quenched thirst, famished hunger sated
a buffet as the weather changes

Trees to wear new clothes
Forest animals to share warm memories
Diminished light while star glimmer grows

Air so sweet, so cool, as glimmers thoughts of fancy
with so so so much work
moments though where rest can recline

Out in the patch, a pumpkin grows to huge proportions
Tomatoes until the frost
with cucumbers, potatoes, carrots, wheat...

Leading Summer to slaughter
as a Spring lamb, chicken, duck...
Falls.

figuratively shown while speaking of sight
bound, wound,
tightly
sewn
..
.


.
..
there comes to mind, a picture
a smile once where it was warm
seated joy
and yes
nice
..
.

.
..
of course, and yes indeed
much like an age fine bourbon
splashed sparkle
ice
tasty sigh
.
..
..
.
if one holds to the ghosts of the past
it truly does make reality of the present
a figment of tolerable with a chance of
tomorrow.

thought about again...
again
and
again, again...

it is nice to think and savor the whims of man
woman
man
mankind
and love

a fog, a haze of hate always sours the taste
trying usurp the sparkle in the eyes
Government
Religion
Society
Groups
Individuals...

to soar beside, above and below
winds lifting the soul to a peaceful realm
a nest atop a mountain made of hope and dreams

below, the bowels of the earth
a monster bellows
roaring
stirring
awake
finding beauty in the deep roots of a single beautiful flower...

Life indeed
can be so very wonderfully strange.

In a house of writers there are some levels as basic as a dirt floor; simple, comfortable, and easy to understand;.
In a house of writers with many levels, the floors can reach the sky, higher than a tower in Dubai. Again, comfortable but far more complex and very hard to understand.

Take poetry for instance: A poem written by a writer in a hut with a dirt floor and a bucket of water. In the center of the hut, a cooking fire. Such a writer could write'
Air twisting too
taking pride
as the lions rest
sated

What does the poem deal with? Simple. Comfortable. Easy to understand.

Take the same concept of the 'jungle' and written by a writer that has 206 floors to choose from...

Sarcophagas temptations left by common blow
deadened as the sleepless mood
feeds life

Two poems that are exactly the same in meaning. Which one does the reader understand and feel comfortable with?

A lot of writers write from a single dirt floor for readers living in a hut with a single dirt floor.
Few writers can, or if they can, do write for those living in buildings with 5000 floors while living in the penthouse.

Is the writing from a single dirt floor better than a writer with layer? Absolutely not. Everything, every piece of writing, especially poetry... has it's place in this world as all buildings, all writers, all readers share one common entity... a foundation. Without a foundation, there is nothing. The foundation, the true metaphor of life.

As such. Inspirational.

And now, a poem very few could ever dream... of understanding.

"

Nails squared as round bales scatter
Shoes with color and lace
Perspired with thoughts and fancy
wondering,
why?

Stubborn truth to contain the walls of security and shelter
Dragons, do they fly for flight, food, or a past need of life?

Hunting down the ravines while in the night sky even the stars decide
knowing
showing
a well lit path

Ancestors thought and died, though indeed, they tried
Books
Learned
Frustrations
Pain
Joy
a chance with their lives

Comes the maidens smiles
Gentlemen lost in ravage
with knotted ribbons sheltering calm and lust

Now, given thoughts, inside while soaring
scouring throughout a world lost
breaking the speaking stones
reversing the waters
drying the eyes of hurricanes
settling faults
...

always it comes
this balance
the fall is wonderful
not so,
the end
crossing lives, crossing lines.

Lifting the lid, the edge of the clouds
Bubbling tunes
as the hot showers soothes

Lifting the lid, again, and smiling
which is the top?
which is the bottom?

Lifting the lid, makes it all worth it
salt of the earth
salt of the ocean
salt of the tears
salt of the moment

Lifting the lid, the edge of the clouds
Lost today in memories
doing 2017 taxes
and then...
losing myself in the clouds.

sitting here listening to written words...
sounds nice
pleasant even
and even nice

...............................................................................looking over here now, and listening. it too, sounds nice

back again

.................................................................................and forth,

back again.

***

what do the written words say?
they sound nice
pleasant even
and even nice
a balance indeed in a cruel, hostile,world.
they sound

I admire the judge being accused of sexual activity over 30 years ago by a woman who is writing her own story while trying to destroy the judges story.

I love to watch people vie for power. Left versus right, right versus left when true power is when both raise the body to stand.

why does it all deal with fucking? both left and right love to fuck. look at the billions of fuckers fucking all over this fucking world. A woman cries, 'foul'. A man cries, 'foul'. And really it is all about power ie... fuck, fuck, fuck. There indeed is more than power and fucking... there is a never ending story of life. Every person alive, writing their personal story of life. And thus, inspirational.
***

"I felt he was going to rape me..."
"I never touched that girl in my life..."

I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I.
me, me, me, me, me, me,.
I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I.

How about you?
Do you agree?

You don't! You're racist. You're bigoted. You're bad.

no?

No, it's you! You are the one racist. You are the one bigoted. You are not only bad, you're wrong.

"Woof..."

What's the boy? Do you want out? Do you want a cookie? Good boy. Good dog.

How strange the world of women and men. Left and right opposing, both claiming their rights. One says they are wronged, the other, the same.

Writers writing their stories as they see them, providing the right for readers left to decide.

Everyone around me today was stung. Matt, Wolf, Sue. Seems like Matt has now become allergic to the stings of those winged insects called, bee's, yellow jackets, wasps. Epi pen was mentioned. Matt stated that he was stung fifteen times by bald faced hornets making a home in his bbq. I however, smell to bad to be stung... soap is highly over rated and attracts the sting...


This is the time of year the insects complete their cycle. They find refuge in places to survive the winter. Thus, most are grumpy. Now, the stink bug, one of my favorites, are just down right fun. Plus, they tell good jokes.

Anyway, now is the season of 'hurry' for the little guys and gals. And the season currently, is pleasing and inspirational.
***

"Say, did you hear about the coyote that was chased by a deer?" A brightly colored stink bug asked.

No, why did the coyote flee from the deer? A somewhat interested man said.

"Because the coyote HAD fleas!"

Ha! Good one there bug. Got any more?

"Oh my, yes indeed."

(((

)))

(((

Secret
Confidential
Classified
Top-Secret
For Your Eyes Only
';;;'

Inner thought of cavernous sight
Full, an earful
sounding loud
so loud
and clear

Entwined the bodies meld
fingers sliding warm curve
toes extended
knee's bent
so loud
and clear

Lets be clear...
a vehicle driven by one of care
glazed surface of frozen
white around as the wheels turn
a choice instantly demands
turn left
turn right
scream
shout
increase adrenaline
what is her choice?

If she turns into perceived safety, breathing a sigh of relief
does she remember these words and what then is set into motion
brings harm?

If she goes against logic and takes the collision
shaken
a bit hurt
with now a future of smiles?

This is all that can be spoken

For what are secrets lurking inside if not freely given
more like mud under a blistering sun getting burned

Soaking today led to too much inspiration... After writing a novel inside the head and four poems... Had to close the door on my brain.
#1

Laying there, beneath the blackness of the Universe; box filled with stars
Sleeping
Resting the solar systems sang
such sweet songs to me.

Long and hard, as long if not longer than the owls dance

Pulsing and growing, growing and pulsing

Hard
Hard
Hard

Hands on the clock ran up and down, up and down
and still, hard
so so hard

the sunlight stirred
about to rise while laying
hard...

Waiting the night away
Hard
Hard
Pulsing vibrations
Reverberations
Hard
Until that moment, when she comes.