Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]

#2

Vast valleys in visions past any point
any pin-prick where
light penetrates via
stars

To the General of angels, trusted Legions of Hand
To the dried dung particle on a shit of a shit eating bug

A wisp of dust so small and insignificant
A puff of wind

All around full circle
with all and nothing
to stand

To this, God, to say, thanks
being a part of
your plan.

#3

Orb of whiteness this egg, this shell
Hard
Safe
Secure and contained
and then...
a crack as given by motion

one chip after another as the cracks grew long
falling
falling
away

from inside comes the innocent of yoke now released
covered now with a world
final destiny...
or is it?

first the protection of the now scattered flake
second, the release
leaving what else?
what else, could there be?

seeing nothing but a broken egg
until looking deeper
seeing such small
seed...

#4

Dreaming this night, a night like most, with blackness covered with a white cloak

Dreaming of small birds as they flitter and fly, taking pause and pleasure sitting on a branch

Visiting and playing while the leaves and owls danced. The stream flowing by with memories and time. The rocks speaking. Grass shooting to the sky.

Voices of all so crystal clear, and then the coming light

As morning enters with Light, it was better to dream then to see the glitter of gold piled all around, now in front of open...

Eyes.

shifting gears. so many identities. maybe the woman living in the swamp has ...
*

Louisiana swamp bugs, little claws clattering in the bin of soon
She, with her long black hair, red eyes,clutching fingers
He, wanting rest
above, the used moon.

Flat bottomed John boat, pride of a broke mans harvest
Swamp bugs loaded, one after another
another and another
with capacity used

Oh, she knew the dance, she knew it well
casting bones upon the venue, curdling spittle dripping like acid
stones retreat as the snake slither the night air
she laughed, naked shape-shifter
he swooned

Falling from his boat into a swamp deep
Down he went, past dancing visions
Fish scattering
Mud bog beckoning
and still there was no bottom

Reaching down from her hellish heaven
a place of bonfire and skulls, grabbing death from the water with ease

He sputtered, coughing the brackish water from lungs now able to again
breathe

There she was, dancing around the fire naked and changing from human beauty
to a beautiful beast
a back again to back again
and he was pleased

Tearing off his clothes, he too danced, changing into a bear, a bird, a man, a beast

When the morning came all that remained was a John boat filled with swamp bugs waiting to be eaten
and a memory of moaning passions that seemed to tease all who passed this way
a place where everything
changed.

pulling bark, strip by strip
outside dry inside wet
with a knotted twist

to hold the flow, the bud, the leaf
attached to and with
as boards clatter
in the night the shadows scatter

better no rock thrown or upturned
as below wiggles the worm
limp as noodles, the ones that can heave the earth

only
pulling bark, strip by strip
leaving a story of the bare stem.

"Ha Ha Ha! Serves ya right dick head. I warned ya!"

Yes you did parasite. But, that's the way it goes.
*

Blowout

Sun grows while taking all in corruption
Rotten rubber once strong
subdued by the glow...

All around, decay and death
Sunflowers putting on the last hurrah
Crickets chirping their feeble best
while grouse get shot
and chukkars, quail, deer, elk...

Yes, truly a world of death.
and as the saying exists,
"That's the way it goes.."

Is it better to get the 'middle finger' from someone or to have that same someone just stare at you with anger after you wave at them?

I like getting the middle finger as that is the truth whereas the glare is just another being a coward.

Many writers get rejected with nice words while some writers get a true feeling of sentiment by one saying, "Your writing sucks, I hate it!" The last response is the better of the two.

Politicians are great at telling people how they are the opposite of what they think... all by using flowery words. Gotta love them words as they be soooo damned inspirational.
*

A way forward is to steer the view from back
Back seat driver at least looks to the future
while
a driver looking in the rear view mirror sees the back

Back and forth
Back and forth
bringing forth the passing of time
where so many
without time wish they had that time back

Leading to a point now
where there is no front, no back
only the moment where there is the sweet smell of a flower, a pleasant breeze in the air with a wonderful view before
and a wonderful sun beating back.

total numbers
totaled with equal
added to with combined

if one were only one then why then
a billion?

just one picture
one
just one

a billion, trillion, zillion
but so many just see one

All around the numbers run
from here to there and there to hear
so many beyond count
with still one holding a picture in hand.

drip
'
drip

drip

drip

squeak

drip

drip

drip

drip

thud

Uh, parasite? What the hell are you doing?

"Nothing..."

drip

drip

drip

drip

squeak

drip

drip

drip

"shit!"

Ah ha! I knew you were up to something parasite! Hey, why are you wearing a thong? And what are you doing to that dolphin...?

"Uh... nothing?"

Feasted now, full of memories
Sated only to know
more
more
ever more and bringing longing
this feeling of War

Civil unrest where bodies stench most foul
unwashed by blood
cleansed by society
this feeling of War

Four horses riding hard
Snot of nostril flame
Jaws grinding, hooves to tear
this feeling of War

Babies cry in indignation
Anger'
tears a means to bring attention to meaningless pain
all in training
this feeling of War

Leonard Cohen sang
"You want it darker, we killed the flame..."
this feeling of War

Let loose the hounds of hell
Let the rooster crow and the sun burns in flame
Let a world turn black now to cover all with silence
this feeling of War.

Three China Men

Today was another one of those great inspirational days. Did excavator work in what most Americans would call, wilderness. Had to cross a very beautiful river with my machine along a small highway that eventually ends up in Elk City.

The water ran fast and deep, up over my waist but nothing for a heavy machine.

While building a road for an owner I asked about a mound very high and obvious on his property. The mound had large tree's growing out of it and was very near the river.

His answer was, "That mound is where three Chinese workers that took part in the gold rush a long time ago, are buried..."

Way cool and it fit the atmosphere. The sun was bright and clear. The river low and clear. And literally millions of lady bugs clustered together getting ready for winter. You could feel the spirit in the air...

Now, the reason the mound was tall and proud was that the miners mined all around the graves looking for the ample gold, and in respect, left the ground the men were buried in, alone.

I say the mound is large and tall, and for perspective, it is. Around twenty feet high and 40-50 feet in circumference.

Very nice day and very inspirational for writing.
***

Nugget of Respect

A world giving treasure for those who labor
Toiling and tearing the earth, looking for yellow gold
Men and women, pursue
and work
and dare
to live
and die
for within is the lure.

With brawn and iron
revealing through layers
the dust
the nugget
with so much in price paid.

Citizens from all around the world
bonded by the glimmer
the shine
the gold
From Italy, Germany, Poland, China
In this hunt, this endeavor
some were murdered
some were part of accidents
some were never found.

Three died and were buried
Three born in China and now, far from home pursuing the dream
of gold.

Did they find what they sought?
No, but with some dignity
they were buried
poor
tired
dead...
but for the gold?

Resting below those now resting for eternity
Only a few feet below the bones
There also rested the worlds largest gold nugget
1200 ounces...
a fitting resting place for them and those.

Sky washing the earth today
Drops of drip with a soft breeze

Dried grass laughing at flame
A river thirsty

All in all
a good day

I'm looking but cannot see you Lord...

Yes, you do see me

Where are you? I cannot see you...

Yes. You can.

How is that possible?

i see you see me, through you...

blinked away a day
squinted through a week
stared at years passing at light speed
finally slept a second or two

(you should see what happens when I sneeze!)

Moist. A word used in various ways. Some innocent, some with a bit more hormonal influence.

Matt told me today that she gets very wet, very moist... (and the further embellishments of sexual conquests)

Some people say, "The mattress is moist." An accurate statement if a mattress gets water on it.

Overall though, I don't hear the word, moist, very much anymore. I certainly never hear woman use the word. Yes, the phrase, skin moisturizer, is used a lot in the cosmetic world, but not so, moist.

Maybe the sexual aspect of moist has hijacked the word... In fact...

"Hey Robin, looking a dolphins get me all hot and moist. In fact..."

Shut up parasite. You get moist looking at a cactus so you probably have a glandular problem.

"But. But. But. I AM MOIST!"

Go take a cold shower.

***

Her skin was warm; silky to touch and smooth
With a moan her voice was moist and sensuous
Just like mine.

(or)

Dry chapped lips; gift of the burning sun
Weaving through a desert burning
begging with a moist mind.

(or)

Mold and moss
clinging vines of green
after a morning of news yet before the sun shines
a moist petal of memory
in hand.
***

Moist is a nice word. It should be used more often.

Inspiration comes from so many places indeed.
***

Rooted thoughts
oh they take hold
entwined bodies
reaching for release

fertile soil, the imagination of man
watered
growth
warmth
until
uprooted
taking on a world
to stand

such a combination
freeing from the bond of soil
up and beyond the stars
to flower and bring smiles

Oy vay!

whatasay!

Today!

oy oy vay

Tomorrow!

damn, my head hurts...

but
that's

Okay!

Refuge

A few days ago, a ladybug with no spots lay below me
Watching the work with interest
Curiosity

Curious too, to pick and let it walk on my hand
filling the soul
and with outstretched hand, released.

Taking wing and flight
the lady flew about ten feet
leaving me happy

Soon though, on tippy toe the lady bug used little feet
and before much time
was back
below me

The lady smiled
I was happy
You see, in my world, it is best to cherish the little things
as there is simplicity
wonder
and joy
for what is all around
eternity.

shit day but shit days are inspirational. two things jumped out today for inspiration. One was the news about some whack jobs killing elk and deer around here, cutting off their heads, and leaving the rest to rot. Fish and Game is trying to catch them but crooks are a crafty lot. Good news though, it won't be the law getting them... and it will not be pretty.

The next bit of inspiration is the news today about a man dying from eating squirrel brains...

"Yum! Sign me up!"

Uh, parasite, you did hear the part about dying?

"Fuck that, I'll live forever!"

Of that parasite, I have no doubt.
***

Brains of Much Mush

Yes, to walk erect
Such proud Homo Sapiens
Hunters and gathers
Intelligent
Not really bad you know
until they wake up.

[Lester Curtis]

I got to watch a coworker eat a squirrel brain once--he saved that part for last--and it didn't hurt him a bit. Some of the other people in the break room made hasty exits, though, and of course he got a good laugh out of that.

He occasionally remarked that he didn't know why his wife stuck around.

Got me beat on that one Lester. Never had the opportunity to watch the ingestion of squirrel brains... what, they must be the size of a pea? (peoples brains eating them OR the squirrel brains) Though, got a chance to eat monkey brains in the Philippines... took a pass on that, and also the balut (chicken embryo still in the egg and buried in soil for a while to, uh, mm, ferment?) Firmly convinced someone in the Philippines said one day in Olangapo city, "Hey, lets take chicken eggs about ready to hatch, bury them in the ground for a few weeks and then see if the US military folks will eat them. When they drink they'll probably eat anything..." Knew a bunch of fellow marines that did indeed drink a bit and then dined on such, uh, wonderful 'cultural' food.

Good inspiration. Food of course is one of the best things going for people. Just think of all the great things to eat. Chocolate, bread, cake, jalepeno poppers, pizza, hot dogs, yogurt, spam, steak, chicken, and even the occasional eraser on the end of a #2 pencil.
***\\/

Food

Fun fulfilling the appetite
Rumbling gurgle of a tummy in demand
Mind drooling and setting the tongue in lip licking mode
as the choices grow in menu of longing
so too the growling in a stomach
ready for consume.

From fruity fruits to spice
frozen to molten
simple to complex
the great thing about eating
is the taste, the preparation
and with consumption
comes sated memories
soon replaced
with demand.

[Lester Curtis]

I think a lot of that 'cultural' cuisine may be a holdover from the days before we humans had invented reliable means of long-term food storage, like canning and refrigeration. So we were often scavengers; we ate, and still do, things that were decayed and rotten, and called it delicious, because compared to eating rocks and mud, it might have been. And we might have gotten the idea of burying things from watching large predators; they'd take down an animal that was too big to eat all at once and bury the rest for later. Hey, it works for them, why not? Keeps the flies off, at least.

The French have built a cultural snobbishness around rotten food, especially meats and cheeses. I have my own idea about how this came about. Amid all the colorful clothing and golden gewjaws in the palace, the royal chefs were running out of fresh food to serve the king, so one day they just gave up and threw some rotten carcass on a platter and smeared it with as much pungent spice as they could find.

Of course, the king gagged and yelled, "What the fuck is this shit? I'll have your heads!" but the chefs put on a show of offended pride. "Your Highness! This is the pinnacle of our art! We would never think to serve such exquisite fare to anyone but Your Self! We would never bring this before the lowly peasants!" (Which was true; the peasants would have thrown it in their faces and said, "YOU eat it!")

So the king was tricked into eating it, and the chefs left the dining hall and all breathed a sigh of relief, because they hadn't been hauled off to the chopping block, and because the air was a lot fresher elsewhere.

Snails, too. The closest I've ever been to barfing all over a dining room table was when I saw a guy eating snails.

I think all of this has something to do with the amount of wine the French consume. After all, if I knew I was going to have roadkill for dinner, I'd want to be falling-down drunk too.

And yeah, that squirrel brain was about the size of a baby lima bean, I'd guess. And it was fun watching how carefully the guy split the skull open before he pried it out.
-----------------------
I had a good day yesterday; it was bright and cool, and I went for a bicycle ride. Just right.
This morning I got up to see a shower of tiny hailstones outside, along with the rain. No cycling today.

Excellent and most wonderful read Lester. Got a good chuckle indeed!

Many salient and illuminating points about past cultural preparations of food. Reminded me of a dish very popular to this day served in Sweden. The dish is called, surstromming. It is sold in a metal can bulging to the near point of explosion. Basically, the contents are rotten herring.

Back in the day, the fresh herring was put into wooden barrels where they could last for 'years'. Today, the barrels of storage have been replaced with bulging metal cans.

Surstromming is banned in the United States (for good reason... open a can of that and every cat and dog in the neighborhood would stampede to the source) A funny side note: A woman tried to smuggle some in a suitcase on an airplane... Pressures, altitude, bulging metal can, rotten herring... You can fill in the end as to what happened. Not good for her or the passengers.

Some people watched me when I opened my first can. They were disappointed as my reaction was, "Yum! More potatoes and beer! Damn, this stinks but GOOD."

And since we're talking about funky food... How about that duran fruit? I've heard some Asian motels/hotels have banned them from their buildings. Never had the opportunity to try but maybe one day.

As for cheese... the funkier the better. Greasy, stinky cheese is high on my list of yummy. Though super extra sharp cheddar is way up there and of course, I'm a sucker for good old plastic American processed cheese and that yellow toxic shit sold as ,'cheese in a can'.

You don't like escargot? Man, one has not lived until consuming those little buggers smothered in garlic butter! Which reminds me of the time I was stationed in Oregon in the Coast Guard. Got drunk at a party and was dared into eating a slug. Poor slug. Sliming along, minding it's own business and I put it into my mouth. YUCK! Still have the memory of what it did to the inside of my mouth. Did get a cool T-shirt showing a cartoon character of a man with a screaming slug in his hand... The wording said, 'Eat Oregon Sushi'.

"Robin, you're a sick bastard..."

Careful parasite, I just might try and eat you.

Anyway, good writing Lester. Nice weather here. You'd get a chuckle watching the people ride bicycles here in the Summer. They carry a household of gear, dress in space suits, ride in 110 degree heat, and all share a common face of pain. Give me a four wheeler any day. (and some stinky cheese, snail sandwiches...)

***

Work

Yesterday; work
Today; work
Tomorrow; work

Thank goodness for food, sleep,
and
work
work
work...

with a little bit of time for writing in between.