Death Penalty
Cessation of the movement moments done
gravity of falling situations
beyond control
out of control
controlled.
Sought for finding and yet?
Why is not the question...
It is what it is and more
to deny
to find
this, why.
In my world death does not exist
all around
why.
Yet?
Most will find
lost in denial.
Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
Moderator: Editors
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
Time after time, again
With experience
Learned with forget
Forgotten until
a Moon face shows.
Walls only keep the walls
Ceiling only lowers fear
Floored
To flow through all,
existence.
Running with shadows, with voices, with the wind's counsel
Tripping on stars
Stepping on comets
Coming face to face
with God.
With experience
Learned with forget
Forgotten until
a Moon face shows.
Walls only keep the walls
Ceiling only lowers fear
Floored
To flow through all,
existence.
Running with shadows, with voices, with the wind's counsel
Tripping on stars
Stepping on comets
Coming face to face
with God.
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
Sunlight playing tag with wispy legged clouds
He stepped into the pool, cane holding, white skinned, red trunks; aura showing
Instantly the smile
Walking slow coming with age, and sitting, touching her arm as she was there to give aid
Who helped who, such comes with knowing
His was of time showing, of knowing, of time
Soon to fly free, shell left behind, this man held tight now by angels wings
To stop and talk, knowing
the man laughed sitting in the heat
Floating, below/above, this angel met
minds greet
salutation of respect
Leaving as seen
Red shorts, white skin, floating deep with youthful thoughts...
Left alone next to the rail and stairs,
an aged cane.
He stepped into the pool, cane holding, white skinned, red trunks; aura showing
Instantly the smile
Walking slow coming with age, and sitting, touching her arm as she was there to give aid
Who helped who, such comes with knowing
His was of time showing, of knowing, of time
Soon to fly free, shell left behind, this man held tight now by angels wings
To stop and talk, knowing
the man laughed sitting in the heat
Floating, below/above, this angel met
minds greet
salutation of respect
Leaving as seen
Red shorts, white skin, floating deep with youthful thoughts...
Left alone next to the rail and stairs,
an aged cane.
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
His nose sensed corruption; stale how death tastes, much like sand baked by molten heat. Shifting the shell encasing raw energy, energy so pure, so much so, it was so. Eyes taking in the possibilities, black orbs imprisoning white. Talons clutching another world.
Tongue cast and wrapped, pulling words into the bole of twined tree, animals of her touch fled towards imaginary safety. Stars cast lots, and lost.
The people prayed with wrong intentions with the meaning of Life folded in on what can only be, itself. Children cry adding to the cries, tears falling, bodies formed with ambition.
Shamans, Priests, Magical, Practical, Logical...Ha! Laughter bubbled from within.
A poem.
***
War came as it comes, no thief in the night rather in the briefness of light
Brother, Sister - answered call
To arms gathered, not stalks of grain nor corn,
swords against swords, armor against armor
Kiss this last time as time reveals
Sickness
Disease
Angel of Death hovers ever the reaper
Dragon prints everywhere, only now, fighting each other
Mortals tread lightly to feel the harvest
Mother
Father
If only and only if there were a place for Life to hide.
Tongue cast and wrapped, pulling words into the bole of twined tree, animals of her touch fled towards imaginary safety. Stars cast lots, and lost.
The people prayed with wrong intentions with the meaning of Life folded in on what can only be, itself. Children cry adding to the cries, tears falling, bodies formed with ambition.
Shamans, Priests, Magical, Practical, Logical...Ha! Laughter bubbled from within.
A poem.
***
War came as it comes, no thief in the night rather in the briefness of light
Brother, Sister - answered call
To arms gathered, not stalks of grain nor corn,
swords against swords, armor against armor
Kiss this last time as time reveals
Sickness
Disease
Angel of Death hovers ever the reaper
Dragon prints everywhere, only now, fighting each other
Mortals tread lightly to feel the harvest
Mother
Father
If only and only if there were a place for Life to hide.
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
July bounded speed rivaling gazelle
Owl flying with fattened feasting
Rabbits dance upon dry dust
Storm clouds retreating.
August comes schooling
Yellow bus cleaned
Children cheering
Parents saying, "Where did the Summer go?"
September coolness
October hunting
November, ah yes, November
Now December with snow and cold
January a new President installed
February comes the shortest month with longest of memories
March springs eternal
April flowers compete
May the heat
June a world burns
July again becomes complete
just another time another day
filled with experiences and needs.
Owl flying with fattened feasting
Rabbits dance upon dry dust
Storm clouds retreating.
August comes schooling
Yellow bus cleaned
Children cheering
Parents saying, "Where did the Summer go?"
September coolness
October hunting
November, ah yes, November
Now December with snow and cold
January a new President installed
February comes the shortest month with longest of memories
March springs eternal
April flowers compete
May the heat
June a world burns
July again becomes complete
just another time another day
filled with experiences and needs.
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
To Jimmy & Vanessa -blessings on your new daughter, Eleonora. And Jacob? There are great things in your future, keep the faith as you'll need it for what comes will cause great pain, maybe even your death, but most will be saved.
***
Before and behind there always is
the scene.
Fragrance of flower of love
Standing naked the night before, looking high and down below.
Clean and drying, wondering why and seeing
the scene.
With sleep comes the dream, always the dream
Living.
Listening.
Looking.
Living.
Lasting starlight.
Awake this scene...
***
Before and behind there always is
the scene.
Fragrance of flower of love
Standing naked the night before, looking high and down below.
Clean and drying, wondering why and seeing
the scene.
With sleep comes the dream, always the dream
Living.
Listening.
Looking.
Living.
Lasting starlight.
Awake this scene...
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
A visitor now, if the parasite is allowed, if Robin is allowed, then a visitor must also be allowed. A voice if you will. A figment fleeting. An emotion. Words are not owned by species or planets they are common property of those able to hold use and understand them...
***
(blowing bubbles filling the water with a humming, a hum rising and lowering as needed)
Yesss, understand. The question from New Zealand. "Where are you from..."
I come from...
"No, where do you come from..."
Eyesss speak volumes, window to the mind, the soul, knowing full welll the meaning, the question...
Black rock worn accompanied by a Swedish chef of ambition, bicycling across the nation...
Foolish when asking that which is dangerous. Humorous such activity of such a species.
"Where are you from?"
To know and understand is dangerous, not to that or those but thossse who ask such questionsss.
Listen now, be quiet, there are those among you not prepareddd for answersss, for such questionsss.
(no words exist as the mind cannot comprehend this current action but what followsss...)
Lead by powers, seeking power, seduction of minds -weak. Think human. Your clothes, your metals, your science, you, yours. Philosophy designed in probing when thinking the answers will be true...Question: What is truth?
If asked about a world, about sacrifice, of love, evolution...what do you hear? And if listening can it be absorbed? Maybe potential doubt? Confusion? Actually the mind already knows as to tease, to trick, this more so a game of chess than what is, (for humans) extremely - dangerous.
Peddle hard man, woman smile thinking of a Bed and Breakfast. Sale complete and flush with 'money' soon, New Zealanddd.
"Where do you come from?"
Why give the truth, the answer, when you cannot understand it...
?
***
"Robin, even for you this is some weird shit."
Robin is not here. The parasite is not here. Rest assured though, I am now in your mind and know now, where you come from...
***
(blowing bubbles filling the water with a humming, a hum rising and lowering as needed)
Yesss, understand. The question from New Zealand. "Where are you from..."
I come from...
"No, where do you come from..."
Eyesss speak volumes, window to the mind, the soul, knowing full welll the meaning, the question...
Black rock worn accompanied by a Swedish chef of ambition, bicycling across the nation...
Foolish when asking that which is dangerous. Humorous such activity of such a species.
"Where are you from?"
To know and understand is dangerous, not to that or those but thossse who ask such questionsss.
Listen now, be quiet, there are those among you not prepareddd for answersss, for such questionsss.
(no words exist as the mind cannot comprehend this current action but what followsss...)
Lead by powers, seeking power, seduction of minds -weak. Think human. Your clothes, your metals, your science, you, yours. Philosophy designed in probing when thinking the answers will be true...Question: What is truth?
If asked about a world, about sacrifice, of love, evolution...what do you hear? And if listening can it be absorbed? Maybe potential doubt? Confusion? Actually the mind already knows as to tease, to trick, this more so a game of chess than what is, (for humans) extremely - dangerous.
Peddle hard man, woman smile thinking of a Bed and Breakfast. Sale complete and flush with 'money' soon, New Zealanddd.
"Where do you come from?"
Why give the truth, the answer, when you cannot understand it...
?
***
"Robin, even for you this is some weird shit."
Robin is not here. The parasite is not here. Rest assured though, I am now in your mind and know now, where you come from...
-
Lester Curtis
- Long Fiction Editor
- Posts: 2736
- Joined: January 11, 2010, 12:03:56 AM
- Location: by the time you read this, I'll be somewhere else
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
O unnamed Visitor!
You say you know where I come from,
But,
Is that information of any use
Since I am No Longer
There?
To know me Now
You must remember my Past,
But you must also
Know my Path
and my Present.
You say you know where I come from,
But,
Is that information of any use
Since I am No Longer
There?
To know me Now
You must remember my Past,
But you must also
Know my Path
and my Present.
I was raised by humans. What's your excuse?
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
Lesterrr, who are you? What is III?
You are a shelll of life hidinggg what is inside, this inside, your inside, their inside...
It pleases me as it now feeds me, this you this III...
*
Your past path present future is so easy to be to see to taste...Deeeathhh...
death
death
death
and yet,
hope...
remember the day he attacked you and why, lowered expectations
and of course
a poem.
***
Back beast for hell of whence follows
Tiny holed packed with infinity
closed so so brief the opening.
Saints sinners same
to me
drifting winds filled with meaning.
Caught in the web made with understanding
and full
pulled with desire.
Open book written
Closed to most understanding
End so happy so sad
leaving shelled husks to find
new meanings.
*
(nice poem Lester, don't let the dog drag you down the street while you're naked)
You are a shelll of life hidinggg what is inside, this inside, your inside, their inside...
It pleases me as it now feeds me, this you this III...
*
Your past path present future is so easy to be to see to taste...Deeeathhh...
death
death
death
and yet,
hope...
remember the day he attacked you and why, lowered expectations
and of course
a poem.
***
Back beast for hell of whence follows
Tiny holed packed with infinity
closed so so brief the opening.
Saints sinners same
to me
drifting winds filled with meaning.
Caught in the web made with understanding
and full
pulled with desire.
Open book written
Closed to most understanding
End so happy so sad
leaving shelled husks to find
new meanings.
*
(nice poem Lester, don't let the dog drag you down the street while you're naked)
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
Standing in the park watching the children play, they laughed as they ran with wooden swords, taking on their world.
One boy in particular inspires me greatly. His mind is wonderful and full of so much potential. To find hope in such surprises makes this prison sentence somewhat - enjoyable.
Talking with his father who is a Idaho State Trooper, I asked him if he only smiles and never cries.
"Oh no, he cries..." the father said with a laugh.
I've yet to see it though, only a frown on his face when he wants a morning cinnamon roll.
Talking with Lester I've learned he has a new project in the form of a dog. Since Lester is a writer I'm sure the dog will be a part of his future writing which is wonderful. All writers are inspired by that near or around them, it is what makes writers enjoy writing.
***
Wooden Swords
Beetles killed the ponderosa pine in their prime
Boring holes filled with oozing sap
Larva feasting while a tree dies.
Brown needles from green, falling with the wind
Tree harvested after the cambium dried
Loaded on a truck to arrive.
Milled along with the rest, blue stain a sign of rot coming
Boards stacked
Decisions made.
Simple surface blue, filled with worm holes, felt by my hand
Chosen for what's inside
Carried to reside.
Sawn with decision in a form to cause dreams -
a battle axe
a sword
a dagger
a club...
Sanded, formed, branded, and boxed
Waiting for the moment when children's eyes lead child's hands.
Sold to a smile, an imagination, as the dream takes hold.
Standing in the park watching the children play, they laughed as they ran with wooden swords, taking on their world.
One boy in particular inspires me greatly. His mind is wonderful and full of so much potential. To find hope in such surprises makes this prison sentence somewhat - enjoyable.
Talking with his father who is a Idaho State Trooper, I asked him if he only smiles and never cries.
"Oh no, he cries..." the father said with a laugh.
I've yet to see it though, only a frown on his face when he wants a morning cinnamon roll.
Talking with Lester I've learned he has a new project in the form of a dog. Since Lester is a writer I'm sure the dog will be a part of his future writing which is wonderful. All writers are inspired by that near or around them, it is what makes writers enjoy writing.
***
Wooden Swords
Beetles killed the ponderosa pine in their prime
Boring holes filled with oozing sap
Larva feasting while a tree dies.
Brown needles from green, falling with the wind
Tree harvested after the cambium dried
Loaded on a truck to arrive.
Milled along with the rest, blue stain a sign of rot coming
Boards stacked
Decisions made.
Simple surface blue, filled with worm holes, felt by my hand
Chosen for what's inside
Carried to reside.
Sawn with decision in a form to cause dreams -
a battle axe
a sword
a dagger
a club...
Sanded, formed, branded, and boxed
Waiting for the moment when children's eyes lead child's hands.
Sold to a smile, an imagination, as the dream takes hold.
Standing in the park watching the children play, they laughed as they ran with wooden swords, taking on their world.
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
"What came first, the tree or rock?"
You ask three questions.
"No, I asked, what came first, the tree or rock?"
In one world, the rock came first
In one world, the tree came first
In what is, the word came first
"You're crazy"
You ask three questions.
"No, I asked, what came first, the tree or rock?"
In one world, the rock came first
In one world, the tree came first
In what is, the word came first
"You're crazy"
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
It was hot today...no, strike that, it was fucking hot today...
Inspiration comes in many forms and today's temp of 101 did wonders for the mirages...
***
Moving rock and dirt, anti-freeze in the engine cooler than the air
Sun made the rocks dance and the dust devils twirl
Started to see mirages and such
Such is such when dehydrated, sucking down water like a sponge
and sweating?
So, so, so, much
Saw remains of a rattle snake shake a rattle when the snake long since died
Saw a naked cowgirl in a dodge coming down the hill
hauling three worlds,
it was nice
Cut through a plastic pipe
Watered some trees in a trance
Ate ripe tomatoes
and thought
Damn, today was great but it was fucking
hot!
Inspiration comes in many forms and today's temp of 101 did wonders for the mirages...
***
Moving rock and dirt, anti-freeze in the engine cooler than the air
Sun made the rocks dance and the dust devils twirl
Started to see mirages and such
Such is such when dehydrated, sucking down water like a sponge
and sweating?
So, so, so, much
Saw remains of a rattle snake shake a rattle when the snake long since died
Saw a naked cowgirl in a dodge coming down the hill
hauling three worlds,
it was nice
Cut through a plastic pipe
Watered some trees in a trance
Ate ripe tomatoes
and thought
Damn, today was great but it was fucking
hot!
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
So, what group do you get along with? Everybody is different.
For me I love to write but get along greatly with only a couple of writers finding other writers to be either insecure, snobs, weird (actually more weird than myself) or they just bug the shit out of me. Sure, get along great with 75% of U.S. Marines but have met a lot of asshole marines, (more so than myself, hard to imagine...)
Now the group I REALLY can relate to and it does not matter if they are drunks, foul mouthed, assholes, saints...whatever, (drumroll please)
Loggers. People who work in the woods are my favorite and why, because all loggers can relate: They relate by knowing what hard work really is, what Murphy's Law truly is, what nature is, loggers are great.
"Robin, we don't give a shit about what or how or when you like, asshole..."
Yep parasite that is why you're in the 'writers' category.
"Yeah, I'm a fucking class act writer, much more so than you. Your writing s-u-c-k-s!"
And that comment is common among other writers.
Today was a perfect example on why loggers meeting other loggers are almost always instantly friends. Went and looked at a brush piling job and instantly got the job. Guys name is Charlie and we had a great time (get two loggers together and talk about talk... wow) Asked me if I would take a check as payment and I said, "Check, ducks, chickens..." He then seriously said, "You need some ducks, I have some, all you need is a kiddy wading pool..." I laughed and said my corgi's would eat them.
Why I mention this is that I love to write, hell I love tree's and Mack trucks. People, now people cause my brain to hurt which is why I like working in the woods, tree's speak a MUCH better language.
Now, inspired by logging, a poem.
***
World of cities, mankind's minds cry until the volume is unbearable
"Fucking"
"Worry"
"Money"
"Love"
"Hate"
so much babble of minding sound
babble
hands to ears
run...
Away from the crowds - the herd grazing on world memories - silence?
No, there no area of silence not even in the vacuum void of space.
Sound, everywhere, sounds coming, here, gone...
Unable to stand some days, the smog, the haze, the sounds of freeways, cities, minds...
Finding solace and peaceful sanctuary beneath the forest canopy, standing alone in the bough scented breeze.
Thinning, pruning, making nature answer to my way
Leaving a forest better than nature could ever make it be
Rooted with the language older than this world, trying to find
peace.
For me I love to write but get along greatly with only a couple of writers finding other writers to be either insecure, snobs, weird (actually more weird than myself) or they just bug the shit out of me. Sure, get along great with 75% of U.S. Marines but have met a lot of asshole marines, (more so than myself, hard to imagine...)
Now the group I REALLY can relate to and it does not matter if they are drunks, foul mouthed, assholes, saints...whatever, (drumroll please)
Loggers. People who work in the woods are my favorite and why, because all loggers can relate: They relate by knowing what hard work really is, what Murphy's Law truly is, what nature is, loggers are great.
"Robin, we don't give a shit about what or how or when you like, asshole..."
Yep parasite that is why you're in the 'writers' category.
"Yeah, I'm a fucking class act writer, much more so than you. Your writing s-u-c-k-s!"
And that comment is common among other writers.
Today was a perfect example on why loggers meeting other loggers are almost always instantly friends. Went and looked at a brush piling job and instantly got the job. Guys name is Charlie and we had a great time (get two loggers together and talk about talk... wow) Asked me if I would take a check as payment and I said, "Check, ducks, chickens..." He then seriously said, "You need some ducks, I have some, all you need is a kiddy wading pool..." I laughed and said my corgi's would eat them.
Why I mention this is that I love to write, hell I love tree's and Mack trucks. People, now people cause my brain to hurt which is why I like working in the woods, tree's speak a MUCH better language.
Now, inspired by logging, a poem.
***
World of cities, mankind's minds cry until the volume is unbearable
"Fucking"
"Worry"
"Money"
"Love"
"Hate"
so much babble of minding sound
babble
hands to ears
run...
Away from the crowds - the herd grazing on world memories - silence?
No, there no area of silence not even in the vacuum void of space.
Sound, everywhere, sounds coming, here, gone...
Unable to stand some days, the smog, the haze, the sounds of freeways, cities, minds...
Finding solace and peaceful sanctuary beneath the forest canopy, standing alone in the bough scented breeze.
Thinning, pruning, making nature answer to my way
Leaving a forest better than nature could ever make it be
Rooted with the language older than this world, trying to find
peace.
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
Okay is a matter of perspective...One side it's abnormal and the other, boring.
The night sky tonight? Spoke so loud it hurt my feet...
***
Looking up from earth the sky looks flat with sparkles
Looking down from stars the earth looks,
invisible.
Looking inside and seeing the emotions sparkle
Looking outside feeling
invisible.
Seeing the invisible
Being invisible
It's divisive to the visible...
The night sky tonight? Spoke so loud it hurt my feet...
***
Looking up from earth the sky looks flat with sparkles
Looking down from stars the earth looks,
invisible.
Looking inside and seeing the emotions sparkle
Looking outside feeling
invisible.
Seeing the invisible
Being invisible
It's divisive to the visible...
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
Great inspiration tonight.
"Oh goody, Robin is inspired and my left nut hurts, whoopee doo da day..."
You're a bastard parasite but I like you and you know why?
"Because you're gay and find yourself attracted to your manly side?"
No.
"Because you like me kicking your ass mentally?"
Ha, in your dreams. No, parasite I like you because you're real. You present yourself as you really are and don't hide behind the niceties.
"Uh, you're setting me up for some pain aren't you Robin, like a cat teasing a mouse?"
No, I'm being serious. Sure, I can kick your ass any time I want but ever since I yanked you out of that weird bag of tricks you've become a bigger part of me.
"Gee. Golly gee. Shucks and gee willickers. Gosh Robin, I just might get all teary eyed...NOT! You're a fuc..." (splat)
Yep, I like the parasite and it is good to see him up to being what he is. Anyway, great inspiration tonight. Had friends over for spaghetti, they brought their four boys ranging in age from 1 to 9, what fun! We banged on drums, shot spit wads at each other, (I had Jacob shoot his mother, ha, it was great)
Even showed the boys how to make wooden swords and made each one a very special one. They loved it, and the youngest was running around in a diaper dancing to drum music. He even stood on the face of my smaller drum and laughed as his brothers beat the crap out of the drum. Seeing how much he was enjoying it I took my shoe off and tried it, the vibrations were wonderful.
***
Vibrations
So many hold the earth in their being as being
sacred.
Mother Earth - body of rock and dirt.
Wearing clothing of forest and sand
Swimming in the waters of rivers, lakes, and oceans.
Mother Earth...
is a bitch.
This planet is like all others, nothing special other than being a tool
A planet to be used
A planet to be respected, true, but meant to be
consumed.
To those lost in love for a planet
She cares nothing for you.
Caress her she will burn you in flame
Speak softly and she will drown you
Tread lightly and she will shake you to death
Mother Earth
is a bitch.
Feel now, hold your hand to the soil and what do you feel?
Can you feel the vibration of children's running feet?
Can you hear their laughter?
Can you think?
Do you think Mother Earth is sacred,
not even the Indigenous people did...
The Earth is a tool and all good tools are to be admired and respected
Used well, well cared for, attended
Tools are meant to be used.
I would sacrifice entire worlds for the smiles of children happy
than a world void of laughter
and only rainbows and puffy clouds showing the cruel smile proving that Mother Earth
is a bitch.
"Oh goody, Robin is inspired and my left nut hurts, whoopee doo da day..."
You're a bastard parasite but I like you and you know why?
"Because you're gay and find yourself attracted to your manly side?"
No.
"Because you like me kicking your ass mentally?"
Ha, in your dreams. No, parasite I like you because you're real. You present yourself as you really are and don't hide behind the niceties.
"Uh, you're setting me up for some pain aren't you Robin, like a cat teasing a mouse?"
No, I'm being serious. Sure, I can kick your ass any time I want but ever since I yanked you out of that weird bag of tricks you've become a bigger part of me.
"Gee. Golly gee. Shucks and gee willickers. Gosh Robin, I just might get all teary eyed...NOT! You're a fuc..." (splat)
Yep, I like the parasite and it is good to see him up to being what he is. Anyway, great inspiration tonight. Had friends over for spaghetti, they brought their four boys ranging in age from 1 to 9, what fun! We banged on drums, shot spit wads at each other, (I had Jacob shoot his mother, ha, it was great)
Even showed the boys how to make wooden swords and made each one a very special one. They loved it, and the youngest was running around in a diaper dancing to drum music. He even stood on the face of my smaller drum and laughed as his brothers beat the crap out of the drum. Seeing how much he was enjoying it I took my shoe off and tried it, the vibrations were wonderful.
***
Vibrations
So many hold the earth in their being as being
sacred.
Mother Earth - body of rock and dirt.
Wearing clothing of forest and sand
Swimming in the waters of rivers, lakes, and oceans.
Mother Earth...
is a bitch.
This planet is like all others, nothing special other than being a tool
A planet to be used
A planet to be respected, true, but meant to be
consumed.
To those lost in love for a planet
She cares nothing for you.
Caress her she will burn you in flame
Speak softly and she will drown you
Tread lightly and she will shake you to death
Mother Earth
is a bitch.
Feel now, hold your hand to the soil and what do you feel?
Can you feel the vibration of children's running feet?
Can you hear their laughter?
Can you think?
Do you think Mother Earth is sacred,
not even the Indigenous people did...
The Earth is a tool and all good tools are to be admired and respected
Used well, well cared for, attended
Tools are meant to be used.
I would sacrifice entire worlds for the smiles of children happy
than a world void of laughter
and only rainbows and puffy clouds showing the cruel smile proving that Mother Earth
is a bitch.
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
This 'writers workshop' has been fun for me to doodle on, "Don't you mean piddle on Robin? Prick..." (splat)
Parasite got a lot of sun today so when he regains consciousness he'll find being encased in an ice cube tray in the freezer next to the frozen body of...uh, never mind...
Anyway it is fun to try and stimulate other writers into whatever, maybe give them an idea or two or at least think, "Damn that Robin is one fucked up individual. I definitely will never ever write like that." or "Where the fuck did I put my car keys?" At least a person will hopefully think of something.
One of the things I've been harping on is inspiration. For me a writer has to experience much to write about much. In my life I've been blessed to have been able to witness and do so many things. For example: Tomorrow I will be going to a job to bury four horses. Tonight the horses are alive and not aware that in less than 24 hours they will be dead and buried. Why, you may ask? Because the owner says, "They are old..."
Four old horses are going to be killed tomorrow by a vet and buried by me and my machine, end of story, or is it?
Tomorrow I will write a story or poem about it, inspired by much such as the smell of death, the heat, the sight, the whatever and so it is.
Many of you have even more interesting experiences and it is from this that great inspiration springs forward. Now, some of you are basically one evolutionary step above a boiled potato BUT you have a vivid imagination so it all equals out in the end. And some of you are boiled potato's and as such can't even write (but at least you are a perfect food source for the human body)
Every writer has their strengths and weakness when it comes to forming anything pertaining to a story or poem. For me my weakness is names and humor-on-demand. Also weak on foreign languages. My strengths are eating potato's, potato chips, french fries, mashed potato's...Damn, my strength is food!
Anyway there must be a point somewhere in tonight's doodle and whatever it is it does not matter, what matters is, where did I put my car keys. Once I found them in the freezer next to a freezing parasite next to the ice cream next to the frozen body of...uh, never mind.
***
She haunts you know, but of course
A smile
A kiss
A moment of bliss.
He was an idiot you know, but of course
A smile
A kiss
A moment of bliss.
They were a part being apart
Living in a strange world
A place.
Growing old like horses
Waiting to be buried
Where worms consume, they smile, they kiss, they experience the moment
of bliss.
Parasite got a lot of sun today so when he regains consciousness he'll find being encased in an ice cube tray in the freezer next to the frozen body of...uh, never mind...
Anyway it is fun to try and stimulate other writers into whatever, maybe give them an idea or two or at least think, "Damn that Robin is one fucked up individual. I definitely will never ever write like that." or "Where the fuck did I put my car keys?" At least a person will hopefully think of something.
One of the things I've been harping on is inspiration. For me a writer has to experience much to write about much. In my life I've been blessed to have been able to witness and do so many things. For example: Tomorrow I will be going to a job to bury four horses. Tonight the horses are alive and not aware that in less than 24 hours they will be dead and buried. Why, you may ask? Because the owner says, "They are old..."
Four old horses are going to be killed tomorrow by a vet and buried by me and my machine, end of story, or is it?
Tomorrow I will write a story or poem about it, inspired by much such as the smell of death, the heat, the sight, the whatever and so it is.
Many of you have even more interesting experiences and it is from this that great inspiration springs forward. Now, some of you are basically one evolutionary step above a boiled potato BUT you have a vivid imagination so it all equals out in the end. And some of you are boiled potato's and as such can't even write (but at least you are a perfect food source for the human body)
Every writer has their strengths and weakness when it comes to forming anything pertaining to a story or poem. For me my weakness is names and humor-on-demand. Also weak on foreign languages. My strengths are eating potato's, potato chips, french fries, mashed potato's...Damn, my strength is food!
Anyway there must be a point somewhere in tonight's doodle and whatever it is it does not matter, what matters is, where did I put my car keys. Once I found them in the freezer next to a freezing parasite next to the ice cream next to the frozen body of...uh, never mind.
***
She haunts you know, but of course
A smile
A kiss
A moment of bliss.
He was an idiot you know, but of course
A smile
A kiss
A moment of bliss.
They were a part being apart
Living in a strange world
A place.
Growing old like horses
Waiting to be buried
Where worms consume, they smile, they kiss, they experience the moment
of bliss.
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
Yep, experience definitely gives a writer inspiration.
Today, three mules and one horse were buried. Arriving at the job sight I got to witness the four animals in their pasture and they spoke to me. one more so than the others. The youngest was 25 and the oldest was 30. For a mule, they can live to 40 if not worked hard. One came over to me instantly and around his eyes were white rings, what this means is for me to know as it would confuse just about everyone else.
The owner was a retired cop and a nice man. He rode me down to the area near a creek where he wanted two graves dug. He wanted at least four feet of soil to cover the bodies so off I went with the machine while having three mules and a black horse watch my progress.
I dug near what is known as, Old Highway 7. There were many grain trucks hauling grain as it is harvest season, there were also many loads of logs getting trucked to the mill, and there were many cars and trucks scurrying about their business.
Soil being dug was rich and black, for the first four feet not one rock and then the soil mixed with clay.
Soon the holes were almost dug when my mind was alerted to a truck coming down the road, I knew instantly that it was the vehicle carrying the vet and his assistant. Sure enough the truck slowed down and turned up the hill and then crossed into the property and headed to where the animals were now standing next to a stock trailer waiting to die.
I continued to finish the second hole and watched the owner, vet, and assistant start the process of death. Simple really, death. Humans are experts at death as they themselves are already dead and just don't know it.
After about ten minutes the three humans lead the black horse to stand in front of me, the owner motioned for me to stop and said, "You need to shut off your machine..."
Shutting off the machine I watched the second shot be administered. Death actually is three shots. The first makes the animal groggy, the second makes them fall on the ground, the third, death...
Even after getting the second shot each animal resisted falling. The three mules actually tried to continue eating the rich green lush grass, but finally, "Plop..." down they fell where the final shot was administered.
This process went on for each animal, the second was my friend and it hurt to see him die needlessly but ( not allowed).
The reason the animals were given a shot on one side of the stock trailer and killed on the other is that the vet said, "Animals that see other animals die get a bit scared..." No shit. Not me mind you, I know death so well that...
Anyway, the fourth and final animal resisted immediately after coming around the corner of the stock trailer. It knew. It brayed and tried to call his friends laying dead on the ground. It tried eating grass. It was given the second shot and with a show of power, reached out and bit the owner on the arm, the wound being bad enough for the man to have to go to the hospital/doctors office to get care.
I watched this whole process with emotions very few can come close to understanding but it was done. I was left alone now to finish the job. The vet and his assistant loading their gear and driving off, the owner driving off to get medical care. His final orders were to bury the animals with their halters and lead ropes, and so I did.
I can't tell you what I did just before covering the animals, especially to one particular mule but needless to say it involved...
The day ended well though as the burial was respectful. It ended with moving to a brush piling job in the forest where the tree's greatly soothed the mind.
And so it is, a story that you can believe or not, I could care less as maybe I'm just a janitor working in an electronics factory or a prostitute in Vegas killing time between tricks. Maybe the writing was interesting to readers, maybe not.
Anyway, a poem and then to ponder the power of love between a man and woman, such a bizarre concept that writers have spent endless ages trying to capture with words and song. Maybe one day a writer will succeed.
***
Spirit Grass
Winds sown seeds spreading
Growing tender green
and swaying.
Endless prairie eternal sun a moon between full and empty
Bison roamed and fed, birds soared the sky
Clouds teared to fall with blessing
It was good with the Spirit smiling.
A gift from the Spanish, the plains were now home to the horse and the burdens they carried
European and Native
Plowing the soil, battle, travel, friend.
Aiyah, Aiyah,Aiyah, hands held in honor, touching
sing the honor
give respect
fold the mane with passing.
Hooves now sky traveling
Winds carrying spirit and body
Grass covered again, rooted in soil
Good travels my friend...
Today, three mules and one horse were buried. Arriving at the job sight I got to witness the four animals in their pasture and they spoke to me. one more so than the others. The youngest was 25 and the oldest was 30. For a mule, they can live to 40 if not worked hard. One came over to me instantly and around his eyes were white rings, what this means is for me to know as it would confuse just about everyone else.
The owner was a retired cop and a nice man. He rode me down to the area near a creek where he wanted two graves dug. He wanted at least four feet of soil to cover the bodies so off I went with the machine while having three mules and a black horse watch my progress.
I dug near what is known as, Old Highway 7. There were many grain trucks hauling grain as it is harvest season, there were also many loads of logs getting trucked to the mill, and there were many cars and trucks scurrying about their business.
Soil being dug was rich and black, for the first four feet not one rock and then the soil mixed with clay.
Soon the holes were almost dug when my mind was alerted to a truck coming down the road, I knew instantly that it was the vehicle carrying the vet and his assistant. Sure enough the truck slowed down and turned up the hill and then crossed into the property and headed to where the animals were now standing next to a stock trailer waiting to die.
I continued to finish the second hole and watched the owner, vet, and assistant start the process of death. Simple really, death. Humans are experts at death as they themselves are already dead and just don't know it.
After about ten minutes the three humans lead the black horse to stand in front of me, the owner motioned for me to stop and said, "You need to shut off your machine..."
Shutting off the machine I watched the second shot be administered. Death actually is three shots. The first makes the animal groggy, the second makes them fall on the ground, the third, death...
Even after getting the second shot each animal resisted falling. The three mules actually tried to continue eating the rich green lush grass, but finally, "Plop..." down they fell where the final shot was administered.
This process went on for each animal, the second was my friend and it hurt to see him die needlessly but ( not allowed).
The reason the animals were given a shot on one side of the stock trailer and killed on the other is that the vet said, "Animals that see other animals die get a bit scared..." No shit. Not me mind you, I know death so well that...
Anyway, the fourth and final animal resisted immediately after coming around the corner of the stock trailer. It knew. It brayed and tried to call his friends laying dead on the ground. It tried eating grass. It was given the second shot and with a show of power, reached out and bit the owner on the arm, the wound being bad enough for the man to have to go to the hospital/doctors office to get care.
I watched this whole process with emotions very few can come close to understanding but it was done. I was left alone now to finish the job. The vet and his assistant loading their gear and driving off, the owner driving off to get medical care. His final orders were to bury the animals with their halters and lead ropes, and so I did.
I can't tell you what I did just before covering the animals, especially to one particular mule but needless to say it involved...
The day ended well though as the burial was respectful. It ended with moving to a brush piling job in the forest where the tree's greatly soothed the mind.
And so it is, a story that you can believe or not, I could care less as maybe I'm just a janitor working in an electronics factory or a prostitute in Vegas killing time between tricks. Maybe the writing was interesting to readers, maybe not.
Anyway, a poem and then to ponder the power of love between a man and woman, such a bizarre concept that writers have spent endless ages trying to capture with words and song. Maybe one day a writer will succeed.
***
Spirit Grass
Winds sown seeds spreading
Growing tender green
and swaying.
Endless prairie eternal sun a moon between full and empty
Bison roamed and fed, birds soared the sky
Clouds teared to fall with blessing
It was good with the Spirit smiling.
A gift from the Spanish, the plains were now home to the horse and the burdens they carried
European and Native
Plowing the soil, battle, travel, friend.
Aiyah, Aiyah,Aiyah, hands held in honor, touching
sing the honor
give respect
fold the mane with passing.
Hooves now sky traveling
Winds carrying spirit and body
Grass covered again, rooted in soil
Good travels my friend...
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
I'm glad yesterday is over with, and for that matter, today. Breathed in enough dust piling brush today I could grow a small garden in my nostrils. Best thing that happened was to get a wave from a friend I've not visited with in awhile. It's those small things in life that make a shitty day a bit more tolerable. Tomorrow should be better, plus the man I'm working for did not fire me, actually likes how I work.
Also, if I ever give stock advice, run. Run as fast as you can and cover your ears going, "La la la..." Been getting my proverbial ass kicked in the market.
"Gee Robin, need a tissue?"
No, I used my shirt sleeve but now that you're here and still mostly frozen...Thanks for letting me use your shirt.
"Now that's just nasty, and what's that, a beetle? You had a beetle in your nose...What the fuck! There are some alternative universes in there also...One is a black hole! It's sucking me innnnnnnnn..."
That should keep the parasite busy for awhile.
***
The Gathering
So many a slave to a calendar, a clock, a life
Planning
Waiting
While so many worlds slide by.
They persecuted and killed people dear to me during a period of year, at a time, in another life
They gathered and sought power and with power,
harm.
To use what and when, where minds can only pretend
harnessing
processing
abiding by the self construct turning to group mentality with that grasp for power
in mind.
Follow the smoke children, taste the water old woman, catch the stone old man
Live the day leaving night to sleep
for this is when terror takes the mind.
Leave alone, at best admire the imagination, for in the battle between evil(s) and good(s)
God's hand holds balance
War of powers to overpower, bettering the strongest of minds.
There has been a gathering and it grows larger now
Magic
Power
Science
Knowledge
So much to look forward too...
and yet?
It has been this way before when they killed my friends
Trying to take what cannot be taken
only given
a gift.
A gift for humanity still living the calendar, the clock, a life
Sadly and with regret they will receive a false gift
one with such greatness from great hands
they will take it without hardly trying
turning day into night with terror to match the darkness...
***
A star falling.
Also, if I ever give stock advice, run. Run as fast as you can and cover your ears going, "La la la..." Been getting my proverbial ass kicked in the market.
"Gee Robin, need a tissue?"
No, I used my shirt sleeve but now that you're here and still mostly frozen...Thanks for letting me use your shirt.
"Now that's just nasty, and what's that, a beetle? You had a beetle in your nose...What the fuck! There are some alternative universes in there also...One is a black hole! It's sucking me innnnnnnnn..."
That should keep the parasite busy for awhile.
***
The Gathering
So many a slave to a calendar, a clock, a life
Planning
Waiting
While so many worlds slide by.
They persecuted and killed people dear to me during a period of year, at a time, in another life
They gathered and sought power and with power,
harm.
To use what and when, where minds can only pretend
harnessing
processing
abiding by the self construct turning to group mentality with that grasp for power
in mind.
Follow the smoke children, taste the water old woman, catch the stone old man
Live the day leaving night to sleep
for this is when terror takes the mind.
Leave alone, at best admire the imagination, for in the battle between evil(s) and good(s)
God's hand holds balance
War of powers to overpower, bettering the strongest of minds.
There has been a gathering and it grows larger now
Magic
Power
Science
Knowledge
So much to look forward too...
and yet?
It has been this way before when they killed my friends
Trying to take what cannot be taken
only given
a gift.
A gift for humanity still living the calendar, the clock, a life
Sadly and with regret they will receive a false gift
one with such greatness from great hands
they will take it without hardly trying
turning day into night with terror to match the darkness...
***
A star falling.
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
The Dragon was old, one of the oldest God ever made and being old the beast could choose to be lazy- sleeping, eating, snoring, burping, farting... The name is not important but sounded like a mixture of music and flowing molten lava. It was a fitting name for a being made and used by God but so too a flower or grain of sand.
It had seen a lot in the billions of years in this known moment and billions upon billions of 'years' before and after this moment. Being lazy had it's benefits but there were also jobs needed to be done. Some of the jobs were menial and boring, some exciting, some crazy, and some downright scary...
Hard to imagine but dragons have hobbies. Some study insects, some study galaxies, some become fantastic cheese makers, one was known for baking chocolate chip cookies...what the Dragon did for a hobby was to study intelligent minds and see how intelligence could lead to great peace or the great chaos of war. It also liked food prepared by intelligence on the many worlds it frequented.
It had slept for many hundreds of years and was woken as it was time and though it knew it had work to do it was a rebel, a contrarian, in short, the Dragon was nutso, at least according to some intelligent minds.
Currently the creature was taking a nap, taking a rest as there had been some battles needed to be attended to. While it slept it dreamed of a poem.
Little crumbs left by a mouse tip toeing lofty reign
Owls hooted, knowing
Crickets clicked, knowing
Plants knew, growing.
Winds carry more than sound
Lightning showing more than bright
and crumbs?
A Dragon hungry, tummy rumbling as the ground shook
Dreaming of mice and cheese pizza
dotted with chocolate chip cookies.
"Seriously Robin, when I get out of this damn black hole your snot sucked me into, you and me are gonna have to have a serious talk about your sanity... Speaking of black holes, yikes, you're one strange dude..."
Ha! Doubtful you'll be getting out of the hole for awhile. Oh, a word of advice, stay away from the planet that looks like a giant cheese pizza...
"Moomph, you (munch munch) you mean this one?"
Yep.
"(burp) Why is that?"
Because it's not a pizza.
"Yes it is, and tasty."
If you look closely and blink three times you'll see you're eating your arm.
"No I'm not, I eating a pizza and it...Aw Crap! I just ate my right arm. Shit! You're a class A prick Robin."
No, I'm not a prick, it is you that are trapped in a black hole eating your own arm while I'm here in reality eating spicy chicken strips.
"Asshole..."
It had seen a lot in the billions of years in this known moment and billions upon billions of 'years' before and after this moment. Being lazy had it's benefits but there were also jobs needed to be done. Some of the jobs were menial and boring, some exciting, some crazy, and some downright scary...
Hard to imagine but dragons have hobbies. Some study insects, some study galaxies, some become fantastic cheese makers, one was known for baking chocolate chip cookies...what the Dragon did for a hobby was to study intelligent minds and see how intelligence could lead to great peace or the great chaos of war. It also liked food prepared by intelligence on the many worlds it frequented.
It had slept for many hundreds of years and was woken as it was time and though it knew it had work to do it was a rebel, a contrarian, in short, the Dragon was nutso, at least according to some intelligent minds.
Currently the creature was taking a nap, taking a rest as there had been some battles needed to be attended to. While it slept it dreamed of a poem.
Little crumbs left by a mouse tip toeing lofty reign
Owls hooted, knowing
Crickets clicked, knowing
Plants knew, growing.
Winds carry more than sound
Lightning showing more than bright
and crumbs?
A Dragon hungry, tummy rumbling as the ground shook
Dreaming of mice and cheese pizza
dotted with chocolate chip cookies.
"Seriously Robin, when I get out of this damn black hole your snot sucked me into, you and me are gonna have to have a serious talk about your sanity... Speaking of black holes, yikes, you're one strange dude..."
Ha! Doubtful you'll be getting out of the hole for awhile. Oh, a word of advice, stay away from the planet that looks like a giant cheese pizza...
"Moomph, you (munch munch) you mean this one?"
Yep.
"(burp) Why is that?"
Because it's not a pizza.
"Yes it is, and tasty."
If you look closely and blink three times you'll see you're eating your arm.
"No I'm not, I eating a pizza and it...Aw Crap! I just ate my right arm. Shit! You're a class A prick Robin."
No, I'm not a prick, it is you that are trapped in a black hole eating your own arm while I'm here in reality eating spicy chicken strips.
"Asshole..."
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
The Picnic
Written by:
Whispered tongue of the drum
Reverberations of flying feather
Music sheets of time.
Leather sole threading a path older than the bear, a bubbling creek hiding the trouts sparkle, a young man passed the time leaving nothing but thoughts of the future, a future now his past and gone. It was the mountains located far away from the past turmoil of man and near the beginning. It was here a family found solace and refuge from mans artificial trees called, buildings. It was here a family found temporary peace.
A young man. A young woman. A young boy. An infant girl. A dog. A car. The sunlight revealed a bubbling creek hiding the trouts sparkle, a path near the creek older than the bear. It was a fine place to unburden that burdened, it was a place to finish one hunger, in search of another.
Immediately the young boy found the trail leading to the creek and he laughed as he found a stick, an old stick laying on the ground. Taking this stick he played with the water, his splashing causing the hidden trout to reveal themselves and flee. The dog barked and splashed, trying to grab the stick, his tongue showing happiness and slobber.
The sun smiled, luring clouds to slip to the darker side of day, the day still bright with opportunity. Beneath the sky the man spread a large blanket and he smiled as he saw what peace really is. His wife holding tight the new breath, a tiny mouth now suckling. He saw the dog and boy play. It was good.
A basket full of bread and meats, filled with sweets and fruit, a basket filled with that to satisfy a hunger, in search of another. This basket sat now on the blanket with drinks of varying array ready to solve any thirst.
"Come boy," said with laughter as the dog barked and shook his body hard causing water to splash any and all nearby.
"Yes, I'm coming," and with a quick step the boy walked quickly as in the basket were tasty foods to tempt any growing boy.
Shadows move slowing true but still they shifted, announcing to those observing that the day would end.
Sated and full and now with the hunger only the peace of nature can instill the man slept, his stomach full, his mind content. The woman too found peace, reading a story as her daughter rested in the totality only the young can find. The boy of course, grabbed some marshmallows and ran to explore the watery flow as already the trout were once again too calm. Soon this changed as the boy and dog disappeared from sight, though their barking and laughter was heard as they herded the frogs, salamanders, trout, even the large spider with her web spun in the willows was given their attention.
In the distance the clouds decided to no longer hide as they invited lightning to speak, the thunder providing a guiding voice. This sound woke the man from his sleep and glancing off into the distance made the decision to announce, "It is time to go."
It was indeed time now and soon the blanket, the basket, the drinks, the family, soon they were loaded and departed as quickly as they had arrived. All that remained was the bent grass where the blanket had laid and an old stick.
As darkness arrived, so too the clouds filled with rain and sound. Wind curled the waters on the creek even more, causing the trout to once again flee to safer waters. The tree's bent and danced to the wind and music of the storm.
With leather soles wet, the young man traveling the trail along the creek, a trail older than the bear, awoke from his sleep. His dream of the future, one where his people would go the way of the bear, the way of the bison, the long walk to memory. This man would one day be remembered as a great leader of his people. His name was, Joseph. He would one day come chief and the future would know him as Chief Joseph.
He knew the future as he had seen the future. One of his dreams were:
Hear me, my chiefs! I am tired. My heart is sick and sad. From where the sun now stands, I will fight no more forever.
The sun, a sun now shining as in the past, on the present, and the future.
Written by:
Whispered tongue of the drum
Reverberations of flying feather
Music sheets of time.
Leather sole threading a path older than the bear, a bubbling creek hiding the trouts sparkle, a young man passed the time leaving nothing but thoughts of the future, a future now his past and gone. It was the mountains located far away from the past turmoil of man and near the beginning. It was here a family found solace and refuge from mans artificial trees called, buildings. It was here a family found temporary peace.
A young man. A young woman. A young boy. An infant girl. A dog. A car. The sunlight revealed a bubbling creek hiding the trouts sparkle, a path near the creek older than the bear. It was a fine place to unburden that burdened, it was a place to finish one hunger, in search of another.
Immediately the young boy found the trail leading to the creek and he laughed as he found a stick, an old stick laying on the ground. Taking this stick he played with the water, his splashing causing the hidden trout to reveal themselves and flee. The dog barked and splashed, trying to grab the stick, his tongue showing happiness and slobber.
The sun smiled, luring clouds to slip to the darker side of day, the day still bright with opportunity. Beneath the sky the man spread a large blanket and he smiled as he saw what peace really is. His wife holding tight the new breath, a tiny mouth now suckling. He saw the dog and boy play. It was good.
A basket full of bread and meats, filled with sweets and fruit, a basket filled with that to satisfy a hunger, in search of another. This basket sat now on the blanket with drinks of varying array ready to solve any thirst.
"Come boy," said with laughter as the dog barked and shook his body hard causing water to splash any and all nearby.
"Yes, I'm coming," and with a quick step the boy walked quickly as in the basket were tasty foods to tempt any growing boy.
Shadows move slowing true but still they shifted, announcing to those observing that the day would end.
Sated and full and now with the hunger only the peace of nature can instill the man slept, his stomach full, his mind content. The woman too found peace, reading a story as her daughter rested in the totality only the young can find. The boy of course, grabbed some marshmallows and ran to explore the watery flow as already the trout were once again too calm. Soon this changed as the boy and dog disappeared from sight, though their barking and laughter was heard as they herded the frogs, salamanders, trout, even the large spider with her web spun in the willows was given their attention.
In the distance the clouds decided to no longer hide as they invited lightning to speak, the thunder providing a guiding voice. This sound woke the man from his sleep and glancing off into the distance made the decision to announce, "It is time to go."
It was indeed time now and soon the blanket, the basket, the drinks, the family, soon they were loaded and departed as quickly as they had arrived. All that remained was the bent grass where the blanket had laid and an old stick.
As darkness arrived, so too the clouds filled with rain and sound. Wind curled the waters on the creek even more, causing the trout to once again flee to safer waters. The tree's bent and danced to the wind and music of the storm.
With leather soles wet, the young man traveling the trail along the creek, a trail older than the bear, awoke from his sleep. His dream of the future, one where his people would go the way of the bear, the way of the bison, the long walk to memory. This man would one day be remembered as a great leader of his people. His name was, Joseph. He would one day come chief and the future would know him as Chief Joseph.
He knew the future as he had seen the future. One of his dreams were:
Hear me, my chiefs! I am tired. My heart is sick and sad. From where the sun now stands, I will fight no more forever.
The sun, a sun now shining as in the past, on the present, and the future.
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
Joke From a Bird
A note to a friend: Man, you should see what's in my mind, but it is what it is.
Okay, since I'm not a normal person I get to experience a life beyond normal and thus write in a way not normal. I like it this way.
For example: Today, another day of working, thinking, learning, studying. It was a day of piling brush and of course, not normal.
It started at 0400 ( 4:00am) and the weather was nice with a clear sky and cool air. Arriving at the job site the excavator was tended to with a grease gun and prepared for the day.
I had barely started when my attention was taken by a small bird, a small gray bird who had absolutely no fear of me or the machine. Immediately we communicated and bonded -normal? For me, yes, a definite yes.
This bird, well he was a joker. He did not stop talking and I laughed my ass off. However, it was the same joke over and over. He stayed within four feet of me and my machine, just following and occasionally flittering to the front and side. I came so close to burying it that it amazed me on how fearless this little creature was.
After a few hours I had to tune out his communication, of course there were things it said that I can't write about but the joke? Lets just say birds have a few good ones but they start to pale with time.
Hour after hour I worked and hour after hour the bird was not only staying with me talking like a two year old high on sugar (not normal sounds rather, well, you wouldn't believe me. Hour after hour of near death for the bird, which was and is, not normal. It barely escaped getting crushed so many times I lost count.
I paused the machine and really looked into the mind of the bird and this caused me to smile again as there had been a joke played on me, a very good joke and I applaud the powers that be. You see, 'he' was actually 'she'. Boy, was I set up. And yet, the joke was not over, oh no, the best was for last.
For over ten hours today, 10.5 to be exact, this bird was only a few feet away from me, studying every move I made. I truly enjoyed it and am very thankful for its company.
After finishing the piling I said goodbye to the bird and tracked the machine to where the trailer was. Shutting off the machine there was no bird to be seen and I walked to get the truck parked in the woods. Driving back and hooking up the trailer I loaded the machine onto the trailer and after dismounting I started to chain it to the trailer. And I was laughing the whole time.
You see, the bird arrived again and looked at me with a grin and looked at the truck. Why did it look at the truck, well, it is not a normal bird but why it looked at the truck is because when I had first got the truck earlier to drive and repair a track that slipped off the excavator, I noticed birdshit on my dashboard, right in front of the steering wheel...
Birds normally don't fly into the cab of a truck, however a bird did today as I left a window open for ventilation. And where it shit was a message to me, one that not only caused me to laugh but to say, yes, I deserved it. And the culprit? Ha! The little bird was telling me that the joke truly was on me.
***
Did today happen? Of course. Does any reader believe it? Maybe, maybe not. Do I care? Yes in the fact my pride and arrogance, well, let's just say chaos likes a little balance...And, no about anyone else with the exception of one special bird...
It was a good day.
A note to a friend: Man, you should see what's in my mind, but it is what it is.
Okay, since I'm not a normal person I get to experience a life beyond normal and thus write in a way not normal. I like it this way.
For example: Today, another day of working, thinking, learning, studying. It was a day of piling brush and of course, not normal.
It started at 0400 ( 4:00am) and the weather was nice with a clear sky and cool air. Arriving at the job site the excavator was tended to with a grease gun and prepared for the day.
I had barely started when my attention was taken by a small bird, a small gray bird who had absolutely no fear of me or the machine. Immediately we communicated and bonded -normal? For me, yes, a definite yes.
This bird, well he was a joker. He did not stop talking and I laughed my ass off. However, it was the same joke over and over. He stayed within four feet of me and my machine, just following and occasionally flittering to the front and side. I came so close to burying it that it amazed me on how fearless this little creature was.
After a few hours I had to tune out his communication, of course there were things it said that I can't write about but the joke? Lets just say birds have a few good ones but they start to pale with time.
Hour after hour I worked and hour after hour the bird was not only staying with me talking like a two year old high on sugar (not normal sounds rather, well, you wouldn't believe me. Hour after hour of near death for the bird, which was and is, not normal. It barely escaped getting crushed so many times I lost count.
I paused the machine and really looked into the mind of the bird and this caused me to smile again as there had been a joke played on me, a very good joke and I applaud the powers that be. You see, 'he' was actually 'she'. Boy, was I set up. And yet, the joke was not over, oh no, the best was for last.
For over ten hours today, 10.5 to be exact, this bird was only a few feet away from me, studying every move I made. I truly enjoyed it and am very thankful for its company.
After finishing the piling I said goodbye to the bird and tracked the machine to where the trailer was. Shutting off the machine there was no bird to be seen and I walked to get the truck parked in the woods. Driving back and hooking up the trailer I loaded the machine onto the trailer and after dismounting I started to chain it to the trailer. And I was laughing the whole time.
You see, the bird arrived again and looked at me with a grin and looked at the truck. Why did it look at the truck, well, it is not a normal bird but why it looked at the truck is because when I had first got the truck earlier to drive and repair a track that slipped off the excavator, I noticed birdshit on my dashboard, right in front of the steering wheel...
Birds normally don't fly into the cab of a truck, however a bird did today as I left a window open for ventilation. And where it shit was a message to me, one that not only caused me to laugh but to say, yes, I deserved it. And the culprit? Ha! The little bird was telling me that the joke truly was on me.
***
Did today happen? Of course. Does any reader believe it? Maybe, maybe not. Do I care? Yes in the fact my pride and arrogance, well, let's just say chaos likes a little balance...And, no about anyone else with the exception of one special bird...
It was a good day.
-
Lester Curtis
- Long Fiction Editor
- Posts: 2736
- Joined: January 11, 2010, 12:03:56 AM
- Location: by the time you read this, I'll be somewhere else
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
Might that little grey bird been a scrub jay? They're famous for their boldness. And, last I knew, they were only found in Florida and Mexico.
I saw some article about them once, with photos. One picture showed a man trying to eat his lunch outdoors; one of these birds was perched on his thumb, right next to his sandwich.
I saw some article about them once, with photos. One picture showed a man trying to eat his lunch outdoors; one of these birds was perched on his thumb, right next to his sandwich.
I was raised by humans. What's your excuse?
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
I think it was a fly catcher as it looked exactly like the one that built a nest on my house this Summer. It was a fun experience anyway as was the osprey screeching at me soaring in circles on the way out of the jobsite. Today, the birds talked of the joke played and it caused me to to smile again.
Speaking of birds I saw a very beautiful one on my drive home today...Amazing creatures.
Thanks Lester for tonight's inspiration.
***
Stretched across a country, a world, the shadows wing in flight
Perched upon a wire, a twig, a thumb
Warbled sound of natural love.
Magpie to steal in Ravens right
Sparkly goods, a coin, a watch,
An eagle spots carrion sweets.
On morning the song, on evening chirp, even midnight sounds of hunted feast.
Owl perched and giving.
Morning dew wetting appetite or day.
Hello birds of a world, one grounded with self
Take flight with your freedom
and if hungry God provides so as to listen
to the song and view with smile
that which shares the realm of sky,
it is another good day to laugh again.
Speaking of birds I saw a very beautiful one on my drive home today...Amazing creatures.
Thanks Lester for tonight's inspiration.
***
Stretched across a country, a world, the shadows wing in flight
Perched upon a wire, a twig, a thumb
Warbled sound of natural love.
Magpie to steal in Ravens right
Sparkly goods, a coin, a watch,
An eagle spots carrion sweets.
On morning the song, on evening chirp, even midnight sounds of hunted feast.
Owl perched and giving.
Morning dew wetting appetite or day.
Hello birds of a world, one grounded with self
Take flight with your freedom
and if hungry God provides so as to listen
to the song and view with smile
that which shares the realm of sky,
it is another good day to laugh again.
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
A moon in battle, white against black
A dragon eats its tail
Rocks satisfied in alignment.
***
First it was the voice of the stars and then birds and today, rocks.
Rocks decided to voice a demand and it was met.
The landowners smiled and the lines were met.
***
Met with and bound to thoughts
Thoughts overpowering, so strong, so so strong
Strong to the point
Pointed.
You knew as I do and what strange feelings
Meeting with and bound to thoughts
Thoughts overpowering, so strong, so so strong
Strong to the point
Life.
Listening to life
Life too
Listening.
A dragon eats its tail
Rocks satisfied in alignment.
***
First it was the voice of the stars and then birds and today, rocks.
Rocks decided to voice a demand and it was met.
The landowners smiled and the lines were met.
***
Met with and bound to thoughts
Thoughts overpowering, so strong, so so strong
Strong to the point
Pointed.
You knew as I do and what strange feelings
Meeting with and bound to thoughts
Thoughts overpowering, so strong, so so strong
Strong to the point
Life.
Listening to life
Life too
Listening.
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
Chaos, gotta love it!
Today's line in my head: 'Kissing cheeks tasting like peaches.' (kinda catchy if sung to music, speaking of music, damn rocks singing louder than crickets, and I have a cricket in the house singing his little legs off)
***
Today I'm going to introduce another character called, Paragram. Not to be confused with puns, rather that is the name he goes by. You see he is the brother to the Parasite, the one currently trapped in a black hole and I'm thinking will be there awhile.
"Why am I here?"
Because I allow you.
"And you are?"
You know.
"No, what I know is that this morning I saw a sign in the window of the local Cenex gas station that said, Reward yourself for waking up. Breakfast.
And this is interesting how?
"Ha! Because you found it interesting just as I find you strange"
I do remember the sign now and you're correct but it is just a sign. Tell me, why do mention the sign?
"Humans are a strange lot. To say, 'Reward yourself for waking up. Breakfast,' is an absurd statement to say the least and retarded to be politically incorrect."
I agree. Say, you're a much more mellow fella than your parasite brother. Yes, the statement of having breakfast as a reward for surviving sleep is nutso crazy. Next there will be a sign, Reward yourself for taking a crap. Spray deododrant
"There have been power studies regarding advertising. One slogan, 'Think Mink' was very popular a few years ago when humans loved to wear skins of dead animals. How the hell a study decided it was wise to reward people who survive sleep with breakfast defies logic."
Yes. I definitely agree. That was truly a crrrazzzy sign this morning...
"Yes. It was retarded and nutso. Who would ever fall for such garbage."
Yeah. You'd have to be stupid.
(A pause in thoughts)
Hard day at work today but I did get a lot of dirt moved. Say, I deserve a reward. I think I'll go eat some sour cream and cheese chips. You know, reward myself?
"Yes. I too am hungry. I wonder, do you have any of those frozen breakfast burrito's in the freezer like the ones pictured in the sign this morning?"
No. But you know what, the next time we go to Cenex I suppose we could try one...
Today's line in my head: 'Kissing cheeks tasting like peaches.' (kinda catchy if sung to music, speaking of music, damn rocks singing louder than crickets, and I have a cricket in the house singing his little legs off)
***
Today I'm going to introduce another character called, Paragram. Not to be confused with puns, rather that is the name he goes by. You see he is the brother to the Parasite, the one currently trapped in a black hole and I'm thinking will be there awhile.
"Why am I here?"
Because I allow you.
"And you are?"
You know.
"No, what I know is that this morning I saw a sign in the window of the local Cenex gas station that said, Reward yourself for waking up. Breakfast.
And this is interesting how?
"Ha! Because you found it interesting just as I find you strange"
I do remember the sign now and you're correct but it is just a sign. Tell me, why do mention the sign?
"Humans are a strange lot. To say, 'Reward yourself for waking up. Breakfast,' is an absurd statement to say the least and retarded to be politically incorrect."
I agree. Say, you're a much more mellow fella than your parasite brother. Yes, the statement of having breakfast as a reward for surviving sleep is nutso crazy. Next there will be a sign, Reward yourself for taking a crap. Spray deododrant
"There have been power studies regarding advertising. One slogan, 'Think Mink' was very popular a few years ago when humans loved to wear skins of dead animals. How the hell a study decided it was wise to reward people who survive sleep with breakfast defies logic."
Yes. I definitely agree. That was truly a crrrazzzy sign this morning...
"Yes. It was retarded and nutso. Who would ever fall for such garbage."
Yeah. You'd have to be stupid.
(A pause in thoughts)
Hard day at work today but I did get a lot of dirt moved. Say, I deserve a reward. I think I'll go eat some sour cream and cheese chips. You know, reward myself?
"Yes. I too am hungry. I wonder, do you have any of those frozen breakfast burrito's in the freezer like the ones pictured in the sign this morning?"
No. But you know what, the next time we go to Cenex I suppose we could try one...
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
Today was a smiling kind of day. Weather great. Got a pointed seed of cheat grass out of my female corgi's ear (cheat grass has spear pointed seeds that once they get into a dogs ear it will never come out on it's own) It was a perfect day of inspiration to inspire, a poem.
***
USPS
Back in the day stamps were licked with lips, then mated with paper and ink
sent
Bills
Letters
Postcards
Today the days of communication are cyber are electronic
yet still
exist the stamp
To send or receive
actual mail
where one can feel and sense something real
is great
Yet even today there is progress in mail
snail mail as the kids say
the stamp
No more licking and tasting ick
no
now the stamps stick after a quick peel
To those who still choose to send real mail
there are many such as myself who say,
Thanks!
***
USPS
Back in the day stamps were licked with lips, then mated with paper and ink
sent
Bills
Letters
Postcards
Today the days of communication are cyber are electronic
yet still
exist the stamp
To send or receive
actual mail
where one can feel and sense something real
is great
Yet even today there is progress in mail
snail mail as the kids say
the stamp
No more licking and tasting ick
no
now the stamps stick after a quick peel
To those who still choose to send real mail
there are many such as myself who say,
Thanks!
-
Lester Curtis
- Long Fiction Editor
- Posts: 2736
- Joined: January 11, 2010, 12:03:56 AM
- Location: by the time you read this, I'll be somewhere else
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
Robin,
Something fucked up with the board's software and some posts are missing. No, wait—oh, never mind, it'll get fixed.
I know there's another name for those nasty seeds, I just can't remember what it is now. Probably because I've never had to deal with them. Foxtails, that's it, isn't it?
Got me a new CAT yesterday! Named Roadie; not at all the kind of paint job I was looking for, but we've got a perfect personality match. He's settling in and exploring the house, pestering the Working Girls. Those are the big black ants that come into the house during the warm months; they've been here forever, but I've never figured out what they're after. I just leave them alone; there aren't many and they don't bother me.
Maybe he'll take out some of the spiders in here; he's already found some of the cobwebs in the basement, but unlike my last cat, he gets them off of himself. Anyhow, I never would have thought I'd get a mostly white cat with pink ears and an inaudible purr. Anyway, he was my reward for waking up; came over and rubbed on me, O, Happy Day!
Yeah, the Forever stamps. Last year I bought 400 of 'em the day before their price went up, as I'm sure it will again—and again. No sweat for me; I've got about eight years' worth.
Something fucked up with the board's software and some posts are missing. No, wait—oh, never mind, it'll get fixed.
I know there's another name for those nasty seeds, I just can't remember what it is now. Probably because I've never had to deal with them. Foxtails, that's it, isn't it?
Got me a new CAT yesterday! Named Roadie; not at all the kind of paint job I was looking for, but we've got a perfect personality match. He's settling in and exploring the house, pestering the Working Girls. Those are the big black ants that come into the house during the warm months; they've been here forever, but I've never figured out what they're after. I just leave them alone; there aren't many and they don't bother me.
Maybe he'll take out some of the spiders in here; he's already found some of the cobwebs in the basement, but unlike my last cat, he gets them off of himself. Anyhow, I never would have thought I'd get a mostly white cat with pink ears and an inaudible purr. Anyway, he was my reward for waking up; came over and rubbed on me, O, Happy Day!
Yeah, the Forever stamps. Last year I bought 400 of 'em the day before their price went up, as I'm sure it will again—and again. No sweat for me; I've got about eight years' worth.
I was raised by humans. What's your excuse?
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
Hey Lester, your writing paints of very vivid picture. I could picture the nasty seeds that I call cheat grass to be polite and a whole lot of swearing/profanity when being real. Actually at the moment I just got back from helping a young couple who raise goats and my socks are filled with ( censored, censored, and censored with an occasional fuck and shit thrown in for good measure)
Congrats on the CAT now it can sit on your chest when you're sleeping and suck out your soul when you're sleeping. Actually, cats and I have our agreements and disagreements. I like them when they like me. Judging by your writing I'm thinking you made a great choice. Really like the name, Roadie. Just don't let him roam the highway and become Road Pizza.
You could make an entire story about the ants, fun names you give them and thus the inspiration for tonight's writing.
Ha! Talked with a postal person and they said the price of stamps will (or recently have) go down in price...Go figure, try and win on the system only to still get screwed. At least with 400 of them they will last long enough to where you can eventually sell them on ebay in the future and make some profit.
Good writing.
***
Working Girls
Humanity, at least what was left of it, were now basically drones for the successor in the evolutionary chain. It was almost true when the prior masters of Earth used to say, "After the bombs drop all that will remain are cockroaches, Spam, and Twinkies..." It was almost true but the word, almost, means not completely.
After the previous countries that went by names as India, Pakistan, Syria, Iran, Russia, China, United States...After the exchange of biological and nuclear weapons there were (see Lester, you're contagious with the damn italics;)) a lot less of every form of life and there were still a lot of cases of Spam and Twinkies for the next master race to consume.
The next master race to replace humans were of course, insects. Not only roaches but ants, beetles, and reptiles, lots and lots of mutated reptiles.
With all the rampant radiation, human brains were altered. They still functioned to operate the digits called hands but no more would flashes of intelligence shine. Instead, the humans became workers for the likes of ants. Big, strong, intelligent ants used humans as machines and food...
***
Thanks Lester, great inspiration. Cock roaches get all the attention after nuclear oblivion, it would be fun to have ants get some credit also.
Congrats on the CAT now it can sit on your chest when you're sleeping and suck out your soul when you're sleeping. Actually, cats and I have our agreements and disagreements. I like them when they like me. Judging by your writing I'm thinking you made a great choice. Really like the name, Roadie. Just don't let him roam the highway and become Road Pizza.
You could make an entire story about the ants, fun names you give them and thus the inspiration for tonight's writing.
Ha! Talked with a postal person and they said the price of stamps will (or recently have) go down in price...Go figure, try and win on the system only to still get screwed. At least with 400 of them they will last long enough to where you can eventually sell them on ebay in the future and make some profit.
Good writing.
***
Working Girls
Humanity, at least what was left of it, were now basically drones for the successor in the evolutionary chain. It was almost true when the prior masters of Earth used to say, "After the bombs drop all that will remain are cockroaches, Spam, and Twinkies..." It was almost true but the word, almost, means not completely.
After the previous countries that went by names as India, Pakistan, Syria, Iran, Russia, China, United States...After the exchange of biological and nuclear weapons there were (see Lester, you're contagious with the damn italics;)) a lot less of every form of life and there were still a lot of cases of Spam and Twinkies for the next master race to consume.
The next master race to replace humans were of course, insects. Not only roaches but ants, beetles, and reptiles, lots and lots of mutated reptiles.
With all the rampant radiation, human brains were altered. They still functioned to operate the digits called hands but no more would flashes of intelligence shine. Instead, the humans became workers for the likes of ants. Big, strong, intelligent ants used humans as machines and food...
***
Thanks Lester, great inspiration. Cock roaches get all the attention after nuclear oblivion, it would be fun to have ants get some credit also.
-
Lester Curtis
- Long Fiction Editor
- Posts: 2736
- Joined: January 11, 2010, 12:03:56 AM
- Location: by the time you read this, I'll be somewhere else
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
The reason I call them Working Girls is that the workers are all female, but you probably knew that.
So, they're the Working Girls. They hang around street corners at night wearing miniskirts and fishnet hose, smoking cigarettes. They lean into car windows, waving their antennae and clacking their lipsticked mandibles, "Ya lookin' for a good time?"
Yeah, ants are cool. The original agriculturalists, too: leafcutter ants raise fungus for their food in underground chambers. When a queen leaves to start a new colony, she takes some of the spores with her to start a new food crop.
Did you know that the inside of a preying mantis's mouth is pink?
So, they're the Working Girls. They hang around street corners at night wearing miniskirts and fishnet hose, smoking cigarettes. They lean into car windows, waving their antennae and clacking their lipsticked mandibles, "Ya lookin' for a good time?"
Yeah, ants are cool. The original agriculturalists, too: leafcutter ants raise fungus for their food in underground chambers. When a queen leaves to start a new colony, she takes some of the spores with her to start a new food crop.
Did you know that the inside of a preying mantis's mouth is pink?
I was raised by humans. What's your excuse?
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
Hey Lester, at least in a country called, Ameerika, with the current social trends I'm beginning to think everything is female and for those truly female are thinking they are male. (Must say though, female doctors make for better doctors as they are more compassionate) Makes for fun writing though.
I like ants, in fact I have great admiration for the little 'guys'.
Yeah, and did you know that the female mantis is waaaay larger than the male and when the two are locked into copulation it lasts awhile and then when the moment is 'right' the female will (but not always) bite the head off the male to enable ejaculation. Creation! Just gotta love mother natures weird sense of humor.
***
I don't need to make shit up, which is way cool, all I have to do is watch and today was a great example of how a writer can just write what happened. Now, is it interesting to a reader(s)? Who gives a shit. Today was another one of those interesting days.
***
The Pool
Swimming in hot water when the outside temp is also hot is...well, either soothing or crazy or both. Today the temp was hot, the water hot and the moment truly fun.
First, the pool was filled with strangers. All younger folks with a predominant proportion of boys, all who were roughly the same age. Not so strange one might think except all these strangers had freckles and a whole lot of red hair. Also, the men all had tattoo's.
Got into a conversation with a dragonfly but could not resist talking to two men, one on each side of me who also enjoyed hot air and hot water.
I asked them where they were from and they both replied. "I'm from Payette," and the other said, "Fruitland."
They both knew each other as they worked at a plant called Ore-Ida, the one that makes potato products. Yum! I love potato's so I dug right in and asked a lot of questions.
1. The plant employs 1000 people.
2. They produce over three-million pounds of various potato products each day.
3. They generate 20,000 -30,000 pounds of 'oops' each day. The 'oops' are products that may have a small piece of plastic or other defect. I learned that the 'oops' are squished so the water and starch is recovered and the resulting cake is fed to cows.
4. The employees sometimes get a discount on buying the products.
5. The plant was bought out by another corporation who likes to treat the workers bad.
6.They both earn $20 and $21 an hour.
It was a great conversation.
As I finished swimming a youngster named, Hunter came up to me and asked, "Who are you?" I smiled and said, just a crazy man. He smiled and really started talking. This is when his twin brother, Hayden, arrived and the conversation really got lively as their sister arrived, and then their mother. Most enjoyable as I learned who was born first, who had a scar at birth, who swam the fastest, who liked what.
I learned they had a pig named, Molly. The pig was apparently doted on by the kids but grew to about 400 pounds. Instead of eating Molly they traded her recently to a pig farmer who will have her bred. In exchange the farmer processed a butcher hog for them, as they all agreed that eating Molly was not good, but they also agreed bacon goes great with everything.
And that is just a glimpse of one writers day. Was the reader entertained? Maybe, maybe not, but it is what it is.
I like ants, in fact I have great admiration for the little 'guys'.
Yeah, and did you know that the female mantis is waaaay larger than the male and when the two are locked into copulation it lasts awhile and then when the moment is 'right' the female will (but not always) bite the head off the male to enable ejaculation. Creation! Just gotta love mother natures weird sense of humor.
***
I don't need to make shit up, which is way cool, all I have to do is watch and today was a great example of how a writer can just write what happened. Now, is it interesting to a reader(s)? Who gives a shit. Today was another one of those interesting days.
***
The Pool
Swimming in hot water when the outside temp is also hot is...well, either soothing or crazy or both. Today the temp was hot, the water hot and the moment truly fun.
First, the pool was filled with strangers. All younger folks with a predominant proportion of boys, all who were roughly the same age. Not so strange one might think except all these strangers had freckles and a whole lot of red hair. Also, the men all had tattoo's.
Got into a conversation with a dragonfly but could not resist talking to two men, one on each side of me who also enjoyed hot air and hot water.
I asked them where they were from and they both replied. "I'm from Payette," and the other said, "Fruitland."
They both knew each other as they worked at a plant called Ore-Ida, the one that makes potato products. Yum! I love potato's so I dug right in and asked a lot of questions.
1. The plant employs 1000 people.
2. They produce over three-million pounds of various potato products each day.
3. They generate 20,000 -30,000 pounds of 'oops' each day. The 'oops' are products that may have a small piece of plastic or other defect. I learned that the 'oops' are squished so the water and starch is recovered and the resulting cake is fed to cows.
4. The employees sometimes get a discount on buying the products.
5. The plant was bought out by another corporation who likes to treat the workers bad.
6.They both earn $20 and $21 an hour.
It was a great conversation.
As I finished swimming a youngster named, Hunter came up to me and asked, "Who are you?" I smiled and said, just a crazy man. He smiled and really started talking. This is when his twin brother, Hayden, arrived and the conversation really got lively as their sister arrived, and then their mother. Most enjoyable as I learned who was born first, who had a scar at birth, who swam the fastest, who liked what.
I learned they had a pig named, Molly. The pig was apparently doted on by the kids but grew to about 400 pounds. Instead of eating Molly they traded her recently to a pig farmer who will have her bred. In exchange the farmer processed a butcher hog for them, as they all agreed that eating Molly was not good, but they also agreed bacon goes great with everything.
And that is just a glimpse of one writers day. Was the reader entertained? Maybe, maybe not, but it is what it is.