Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]

[Lipinski]

Games people play.

Shit day. Inspirational shit days are. Edgar da Po-et wrote wonderful shit on his shitty days. Lets see what these fingers can release.
***

Crying

Oh the ploy of fallen tear, lip curled, snot flowing
Above, the veneer of sadness
beneath, reality of control.

Too much when a world cries, for all the needs and wasted moments
with words meant to hurt
and witness.

Children learn quickly, harnessing sobbing antics
Women torture men with moist cloth and ploy
Men...

For to shed water, not in sweat of labor or sport
rather
to show emotion or try in control,
society deems,
useless.

Men use anger, use brawn, use cunning to control what is daunting or willing or pain
(silence)
For me, I have great admiration for men who forsake control of any
with wetness on their face from seeing a child born
a butterfly playing
friend dying
...

For to cry is a gift to be human
and when tears are real
they actually show hope for a world lost in anger and pain.

[Lipinski]

Today, a woman bragged to me about killing a bull snake by driving over it... I listened and felt sorry, not so for the snake as it was its time. No, I felt sorry for the woman's ignorance and misplaced pride.

Only a short time after telling me I then got to witness a friend of mine, a very grumpy and large bumble bee ( this bumble bee has been with me for the past three days and it sure has an attitude.)

Anyway, this little fella attacked the woman. Karma? Natural justice? Coincidence? Action/reaction? Luck? Bad luck? It is what it is... and i smiled.

So, such activities are inspirational.
*

Haughty pride the standard bearer of ignorance
Misplaced attitude tilted towards lost
Finding a moment of potential for learning

only

what is it when there comes the choice?

To take daily, to consume, sustain, thrive, destroy
to create what now becomes...
Is it? Is it for life by life? Is it, waste?

Snippets of seen and unseen, leaving results
Below a Sun's travel, a new moon to reveal
what takes place.

[Lipinski]

today was a very... nice day for me.

Water in the river is running high as the mountain snows melt. Almost surreal as the lowlands are locked in lush foliage exploding everywhere while the mountain peaks are gripped in a wintery blanket.

Seeing the young cottonwood trees standing in the floodwater was inspirational.
*

Short years ago puffy white floated in the air to settle
inside the cotton, a tiny seed.

Opportunity existed with river gravel gaps, so easy to grasp and sprout
Water
Sunlight
Nutrients
all seemingly for free.

They grew fast and tall, there along the bank
trusting the world would now theirs, inheriting stature now being lost by their inner
land-locked parents.

Old, thick barked tree's, standing there for many seasons
Looking down at the children standing in the water
children needing to learn.

This, the season of flood, the moment of trial and learning
with rooted dance and flow
the young trees bending.

Some and many will be lost, uprooted
leaving those surviving to grow
and maybe stronger now for the future
as they learned nothing is for free.

[Lipinski]

In a room, surrounded on all sides, does the mind conjure flat walls?
Of course, the mind is conditioned to associate the word, room with the conventional. Square. Sharp corners. Flat walls. Flat ceiling. Flat.

Some minds see a sphere. I see infinity. A space so large there are no boundaries.

In my world, few can understand. So very few. But fuck me, straying off topic as even a space so large there are no boundaries, and considered a room, is still confining.

So, what is confined? The mind? The mind is but a part of a body, so it must be the body that is confined.

"Robin, are you doing crack cocaine again?"

Yep, and more. Acid. LSD. Heroin. Marijuana. Diet coke. And, of course, potato chips.
*

I write this way tonight because so many writers (and thus their readers) follow the same format of thinking. Room= Flat. Square. Infinity=no boundaries. Mind=body. Boring shit if you ask me.

"Hey Robin, I got something to ask you. Why is your left nut bigger than the right one and the one in the middle?"

Because yesterday the right one and the one in the middle were bigger than the left nut. Like to shake things up a bit.

"You're fucking nuts. I like it!"
**

She tells me I mock her now. I ridicule her. I and her, two words again where the mind see's two individuals. Singular. One obviously female, the other male by elimination. Why is that? Why is one female and one male? Why not the 'I' being female?

All very inspirational. Maybe I'll write something about it.
***

Maybe

Maybe you can tell a world apart, where one is rosy and sweet, the other, harsh and cold.
Maybe they can find a definition where the human condition is an absolute.
Maybe I'm crazy
Maybe.

Maybe, maybe is just an excuse for lost cause and dreams, maybe it is a precursor to hope
Maybe not.

Why is it there is a shadow always ready to fuck things up,
maybe it's a curse, maybe it's luck.

Maybe one day, or maybe one day not,
maybe it causes one to think that maybe there is something to think about.

Not maybe sounds wrong in this world of set ways, I think though
maybe not.

[Lipinski]

That was a fun writing challenge this month. It will be fun to see what's up for the next. Way good job Daniel. Great input by Lester. And wonderful partytipikation by readers and writers. Maybe next month we'll see 200 entries, I want to see Lesters head blow up as he really is a good critic.

Writing is something many enjoy. Some keep diaries. Some keep little black books filled with info on hot men/women. Some just write weird shit on bathroom stalls. ( I did go to one that said, "For a good time be here at 5:30. What a disappointment, plus ran out of toilet paper)

Like the story about dragons the best. Dragons are way cool, but they make lousy chefs.

And thus, inspiration.

*

He was not an old dragon, at least by dragon definitions. Clocking in at a young 4065 years old. His name war Rolin, which also was not a great name by dragon definitions, but being the last egg hatched in the clutch he got stuck with the only name left to choose from.

Now Rolin was a dreamer. He loved to tell jokes to fish in any body of water. Many the fish turned belly up as his humor was a bit...searing.

"Oh. Oh no Robin. You are not a comedian. You're not even a decent writer. And you sure as shit don't know anything about dragons."

Sure I do. They belch fire. Love gold. Eat virgins. Have big claws. Fly around. Play chess. Study whale poo. And they are great cooks!

(slapping its weird head the parasite exhaled and said) "Dude. Dude. Dragons don't study whale poo and they definitely suck at cooking."

How do you know that? Are you a dragon expert?

"Hey. Let me tell you about the time a Dragon had me over for dinner. The bread was hard as stone and burnt blacker than coal. The poached egg was entering the realm of prehistoric, and butter? I've had battery acid that tasted better."

I think you're just jealous. I've had a taste of your cooking and it makes mine look like one of those experts on the cooking channel.

"Whatever man, whatever. I'm outa here."
*

And that is how easy it is to write stuff. It just flows out. Do readers like it? Who gives a crap. It's just fun to express and that is one of the great reason I love Aphelion. A great place to express without all the hassles of the snob-jobs.

[Lipinski]

When a human, that is, a being clinging to the species on a planet called, Earth... When a human hears the words, "I love you." What is the reaction from the one hearing?

It could be many reactions. Reactions ranging from disgust to euphoria. Some humans will run away some will hug, some will be silent, but regardless, there will be a reaction or response.

Now, lets zero in on a human (could be either gender) who sincerely says, (while holding down the nausea and gag reflex plus the urge to lash out with hate) "I don't love you."

So. Now. A human has been told they are loved, the response was one step away from violence. Which is better? the, "I love you." Or, the "I do not love you."?

The correct answer is neither. Picture Hitler telling a young Jewish woman that he loves her just after he gassed her whole family, not to mention millions of other Jews. Would she be better saying, "I don't love you."?

The fact is, many humans are incapable of loving or of being loved.

Yes, in a perfect world (Earth is still way way too primitive to even be considered, sub-par.) In a perfect world, Love is the correct sentence, especially when heart felt.

Now, the reason for this today is that today is Memorial day. A day when men and women gave their lives for their country. This could be considered the ultimate form of saying, "I love you." Both to the country and its citizens. And how do many of the citizens of the USA react to Memorial day? How do they respond? Many respond in a form of, "I don't love you." They do this by not even knowing the meaning behind today's Holiday. Instead they fuck on the beach, smoke weed, work, lie, they are human. Again, which reaction is the correct one?

In the writing world, everything goes. A writer should never be loved or hated, they should just write.

[Lipinski]

Pupal larva squirming, gift from the rain
Ripe bark to rip and burrow
With wings wide to seek

Flying the circle, clinging with such feat
for it a world it came
to be.

To see with winding mechanisms of biological nature
again
again
again.

Laying the eggs again today as last year also, it came
Generation of new beetles
where winter brings relief.

Next Spring it begins again in the forest deep
the sounds of beetles creep.

[Lipinski]

"Dang Robin, you stink! What have you been doing?"

Why (blushing) thank you for the kind comment parasite. I do stink. Mainly because it got close to 100 degree's today and I was spraying weeds on 25 miles of road. Interesting though, the fields are alive with the color of many kinds of wild flowers and weeds, and here I was, killing anything that grows on or near the road.

There just has to be some kind of inspiration in such a contradiction.

"Boring. You stink too bad even for me. I think I'll go boink a dolphin in Florida now."

Enjoy parasite, don't drown.
*

Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder.
Dandelion.
Wild Rose.
Tissel.

Eyed with love as the wind caresses the many fields...
Green.
Red.
Yellow.
Purple.
Pink.

One loves the beauty
The other loves a sterile road

Why?

Vehicles need but travel, cushioned by stem and leaf and yet a grader operator curses.

Balance of the world.
Good.
Bad.
Equal.

Flowers care not for road but more so for field.
Fields free and filled with dreams
While puffy clouds cover all.

[Lipinski]

A small insect crawled on the man's hand. On the fingers the small creature paused, as if wondering which path to choose. Finally though, it had had enough and decided to take wing. This was okay as another insect soon became interested.

It was Spring still and below the ridge the snakes were basking in the sunlight. Many were killed as they sought heat in many of the cooling evenings, crushed bodies scattered along the gravel road. Their evidence of being a cause for ignorance ample and plenty.

In the hill on top of the world, the view was 360 degree's of horizontal wonder view while looking up it was easy to see far past the sun. Looking down even, there was a entire world of and unto, itself.

As the man sat, the wind sang with the thousands upon thousands of wildflowers. The flowers twirled and bent. Back and forth, and straight again. As he sat, he dreamed. He always dreamed and had done so for thousands of years on hundreds of worlds. Now, at the moment, he smiled and cried at the same time. It is not easy to do both but it does happen for some.

In the distance the wind announced the riders of the sky were coming. A force very powerful and heard in worlds far above and far below.

Again, the man smiled, only this time he did not cry, rather, he laughed.

Time. Such an arbitrary concept and only important to those with finite spans of which to live. For the man, time was more along the line of lines of music. Year after year sliding past, filled with high notes and low tones.

It was sizing up to be a good day there on top of the world. And it was good.

[Lipinski]

It is no secret that writers writing is influenced by personal feelings. Look at Hemingway's work. Wow. Great stuff. Or Poe. Or actually, any writer.

Some writers write about unicorns constantly as they love unicorns or fantasy. Some, sex. Some, (endless choices) But, all writers writing is influenced by personal feelings.

Religious folks feel they are filled with the Spirit, and write accordingly. To them, it is good, to other readers of different spiritual followings, it is horrible.
The same for anything. One side enjoys, the other side despises.

It would be interesting to see how the Bible would be accepted if there were words (translated of course) but that had the same feeling as the words, shit and fuck impart in a readers mind. Would more people accept? And why, in a book such as the Bible, are stories about slayings, such as the angel who killed over 50,000 people in one night, accepted but if it was written, "The angel killed those 50,000 little fuckers," instead of, "The angel killed 50,000 of the enemy." Interesting. Fuckers versus enemy.

"Robin, you're winded up tighter than a spring tonight? What's up?"

This is a writing forum parasite, and I'm exploring feelings and writing. For too long the taboo's and barricades separate the great potential for some writers to write really great stories. Not me mind you, as my writing sucks, but fuck it. At least I can comment about it.

Of course, what I'm saying is not new. Looking at cartoons you can see how innocent cartoons are redone as porn. Bugs Bunny fucking the roadrunner and such.

I guess, what I'm really trying to say is that sometimes the strongest of emotions evoke the greatest of writing. This is probably why some bibliographies
are so powerful and such good reads? They show the true feelings/experiences of those writing it. Or written by those who know the emotions of those they write about.

Here is a powerful word, envy. For me, more powerful than love, hate, anger, pain. More powerful than any profanity. Even well intentions influenced by the power of envy is bad. Got me to thinking. A poem about envy.
*
Envy

Written by all

Can I play with your toy?
1.Okay
2. No
3. Okay... now I want it back

Look at the neighbors new car, I want one
Smell that BBQ? Boy, it makes me hungry
Feel the softness of 600 thread count of silk sheets, man it must be nice to sleep under.

Luster lost when longing for that which cannot be afford or passed freely
A smile given taken and made bitter
So many positives until the negatives prevail.

Hope and faith try with best intentions
only
human conditions sour with reality and death.

Unless?
To follow the examples of living lived by those who gave all they had, all their possessions,
Jesus, Theresa, and so many more,
so many who believed and lived while knowing more than this world,
exists.

Envy, the dark horse ridden by those of matter, living beneath a yellow sun
where even the desire of those who strive to even take the power of the sun
until leaving nothing but blackness.

[Lipinski]

Stratolaunch. Read this morning about the worlds largest airplane built to date. It is being built in the Mojave desert by some rich folks to launch rockets into space. It will be able to carry over 500,000 pounds, which translated means at least 50 obese Americans who dine at McDonalds.

Got me to thinking. Does size matter in writing? I mean, a person could write ten million words and a book so thick it would break records, but would it be worth it? As when a person writes such a simple sentence such as, "I hate you and all you Jewish scum." Which has more impact? Ten million words about some trolls and zombies complete with a complex structure of words, worlds and situations OR eight simple words put together.

And looking at pictures, look at the power of art. The greats have evoked the imaginations for centuries. Some have angered such as those who draw Allah's face.

Mankinds evolution has constantly involved size as size denotes power. Power of a big penis. Power of a military. Power of all and yet for all of mankinds success it is interesting how the small things take it all down. A simple bullet of assassination starting World War I. A viruse killing so many with the influenza.

I think ( my opinion only) that a good writer should capture as much with as little as possible. Probably why short stories are so fun, that is unless the topic totally captures a readers imagination, such stories as the Hobbit and such. The readers liking such never want it to end.

It is fascinating that power of words. They are the conduit to humanities inner soul.
*
Words

Inside is nothing but blood filled flesh
Pumping heart turning a world into life

With expression and desire comes idea's
Words.

Unleashed to show the flow
a river flowing low and high, in one direction only

Leaving a history of floods and drought
until it's over.

[Lipinski]

Flipping a coin as if in chance, success would win over failure
To see if there truly does exist luck
Where if given a chance,
maybe.

Maybe the coin arches, high into the air, tumbling and turning
and falling back down again,
to reveal
there on the hand.

Heads
Tails
Your call and what do you call it again?
Hope?
Luck?

What is on this coin so many souls have faith in?
Caesar?
Kings?
Dictators?
Presidents?
People long dead?

Tarnished silver, bronze, copper, even the glimmer of shiny gold dims.
Circles where as in flipping go round and round
until
with call made, who wins?

Lost dreams, lost ambitions
or did they win?

What does the success reveal?
A winning game?
Chances of potential?
Maybe to see who lives or dies when the situation is peril?

Foolish pride when pinning a future on a coin of mankind revealed
Better to throw the coin away
better yet to give it to a beggar
and follow your life, one better than any treasure.

Work hard.
Feel good.
Feel pain.
Feel happy.
Feel sad.

Better to feel than be numb or trusting in luck as all luck is rooted deeply
in failure.

[Lipinski]

Train of the Plain

Banjo twang, there mad mary made the song of the iron horse
With horse against steam
grass against wood
and with all, water of course.

She exhaled in song
Horse sweating along
and a locomotive boiling water leaving a smoke trail.

Flesh and steel
banjo strings reveal
capturing the pulse of three, making a listener feel.

[Lipinski]

Above the cheat grass is a world trying to cheat death
Makeup to prolong the wrinkles
Clothing to cover past mistakes
Delusions
Illusions.

Cheating husbands
Cheating wives

Cheat the tax collector, the buyers, the sellers
Cheat on life.

Smoking such flavors of hell, where tongues of vipers whisper
Hands involved bringing such pleasure
"No interest for two years," cheating the system until
the due date.

Charalatans and cons, all with such endearing smiles
thus,
i prefer the snake.

Down low, so low the belly marries the ground
Sliding in reality, where death tells
my realm.

It's sky, the towering grass and weed, for the snake there is no hell
only ripe, plump crickets,
mice
cheating life as it devours to fill its needs.

Until, it too falls as the grass is sheared even lower
leaving bare two worlds

With death, there is no escape, not for you, not even for the snake
Only death is the winner, laughing at life
at you
at me
even laughing all the way to the bank.
***

This was inspired while getting yelled at, paying bills, and just before mowing the weeds. Again, life is sooooo inspirational.
Thank goodness for Chinese sweet and sour soup. Found a place where no matter where the ingredients come from, yummy shit.

[Lipinski]

What a shit day. It must be said though, that after a good shit there comes a good wipe and also another day.

Now, after getting home it was great to read not one but TWO fun poems here at Aphelion by two old timers.

Poetry is a perfect way for a soul to express and most poems (most, not all) deal with love crap or death or politics; all of what a person feels there is a poem abut it (my inner Canadian coming out. Abut sounds cooler than about) Humor, especially after the full-on crap of today was nice to see. So to ruin the moment for me, I'm a gonna try and write a deep, dark, black, sick, twisted one. (balance and all)
***

The Knife

Laying dusted after the evidence long since tainted
by lawless hands

Evidence revealed he was and she was and they were, all
gone

Big cities where small people hide
New York
Boston
Chicago
Singapore
And so many more

Carving butter but
slicing skin

The same with bi direction, straight is the groove
or
blood escapes from hole and gash
the same to be said
as
the life fled

Protection they say, comes from law
but what to say when law
is bad?

Sgt. Torklin, a large man
fell to pride
killing whore and gigolo
and then his wife, his male lover, and finally...

Before though, this ending, of which comes to all
life.

He took past evidence, from some inner shame
Plastic box and plastic baggy
and then...

When it was over, as so many before
this lawman took his own life
atop a bridge where the water received
and where now
on the bottom
among the many
lay
another knife
waiting again
for the next one.

[Lipinski]

Great writing challenge for this month. Stories could be written about just everyone alive as this world thrives on self-absorbed.

Now, on the surface the 'Me. I. World revolves around...' sound shallow, hollow, and bad, but really (as with all needing balance) it is good. A survival mechanism.

Poor ol caveman, smaller than some of the prehistoric birds, sucking his thumb in a safe place saying, "Oh, me so bad, me so scared... boo hoo"

Nope, this world would not have humans if they were not the most conceited, self-absorbed, cocky, arrogant species in the near galaxy. They would have all been eaten by now.

Humans are an enigma. Small. Pathetic. Poorly constructed. Primitive. And yes, stupid, idiots, and they stink. BUT, damn, the cunning and power for evolution...Absolutely amazing.

Hope 300 people enter this months challenge. I know I am because I'm superior to all. I'm the best writer. The best cook. The best liar. The best fisherman. In fact, it's amazing people don't burst into spontaneous combustion when getting near me...

"Hey numb nuts. You're starting to sound a lot like me. Abut time!"

Oh no parasite, I'm muuuuuuch more superior to the likes of you.

"Do you fuck dolphins?"

(silence)

No.

"I rest my case."

(should be a fun challenge. if you're reading this before the deadline, give it a try. this is one of the easiest challenges to write about to date)

***

Superior

Glancing into a mirror to see and ask
'mirror mirror, on the wall, who is (insert any vanity orientated question)

There is no answer from the mirror as the mind fills in the blanks

Fat
Thin
Acne
Wrinkles
Tall
Short

When really the answer is,
You're just one of many, the many of one
You're just another
human.

[Lipinski]

Heat and anger go so well together, it is inspirational. Some think heat and sex go well together but the body excretes urine in the sweat and with the rapid growth of bacteria... um, not so much. Sex and cold are much better. (Just ask an Alaskan Inuit)

Anyway, people really tend to get angry when it is hot outside and today here in pareedise, it was hot.

"How hot was it Robin?"

So hot parasite even the lumber felt hot and the metal tools, scorching.

"Baby. If you can't handle the heat, jump out of the fire."

Yeah. Easy for you to say. Try telling...
*

"Hey! Asshole! You cut me off. What, are you retarded? Maybe blind?" The comments flowing from an obviously angry man who was just cut off by a truck driver.

Now, anger in the Big Apple is almost mandatory. Especially in bumper to bumper traffic. The man still swearing profusely at the truck driver should have thought his actions through a bit before launching into the scorching tirade.
If he had bit his tongue a bit it just may have saved him from the reply of the truck.

'Barker Bakery.' This is what was painted in bright red letters on the side of the van. It has been known that the color red evokes passion to include anger. Matadors favor the red cape when angering the bull. Sayings such as, "He saw red..." bring to mind anger.

Bright red letters, record breaking heat temperatures, smog, humidity, profanity... It was a bit surreal as the driver of the truck jammed on the brakes. The tires screeched to a stop and the driver jumped out, swearing, and tearing off his clothes.

The man who only moments earlier was swearing like a sailor in a Filipino whore house without any money; this man stopped swearing for a few seconds and then started to roll up his window.

It was a good attempt to stop what was coming but by now the bread truck driver was naked and he had a tire iron in his hand. Swinging it with great force, the drivers window shattered. Reaching in the naked man dropped the tire iron and grasped the struggling driver (who weakly tried punching but years of office work and donuts kinda took the power out of it).

Yanking the driver almost completely out of the car, the naked man bit the offensive man in the neck until he severed an artery. Blood squirted everywhere...
***
As a writer, it is fun to feel the various emotions. Almost taste the sweetness of blood. Almost feel the fear of the antagonist turned victim. Almost feel the passivity of the bystanders taking selfies and looking bored.

[Lipinski]

Feeling frisky tonight. A man can only be beaten by women, weather, and weird stuff for only so long. Rise up and let loose the words-of-writing!

So, it's been, what? A couple of hours since last being inspired to write? First it was hot and now it's just warm and wonderful outside.

Ain't gonna believe this (cuz I'm crazy, really nutso and in the old days I'd be drooling with a straight jacket in a mental institution. man, I miss the ol days of lobotomies and shock treatment.) But, where was I? Oh. Yeah. Ain't gonna believe this but the past few centuries have been entertaining as hell. And now? Wow! Wonderful.

Read the news recently? If not, let me recap: "Today a lot of people got murdered, raped, shot, stabbed, drowned and just downright killed. Tomorrow a lot of people will die, just like today and yesterday and 1895, 1542, 1003, ( and the two previous time slots)" Also, in the news, "There were accidents, crashes, earthquakes, tornado's, blight, floods, heat waves, storms, blizzards..." Also, in the news, "Woman gives birth to ant man, UFO's abducts Trump and steals his hair, wild horses stampede and kill a car full of midget clowns..."

Now, of the three scenarios two were the same old boring everyday news and one was fun news. News of the like those tabloids have at the grocery check-out stands.

I'm thankful there are tabloid magazines with writing of news geared to entertain the masses instead of numbing them into submission.

Also, if you have not yet entered the June Flash challenge, get cracking. Should be a good one.

And speaking of news, I don't know about your perspective but I can't watch it anymore. In fact, I'd rather watch the NASA channel or golf channel where absolutely nothing happens. I mean, NASA shows a lot of black and boring stuff, and golf? Tell me, why is everyone so quiet? Even the announcer whispers, "Okay Bob, looks like Dan is going to use the nine iron, no, wait, the seven." And then, the camera's zoom in on a little white ball floating in the air. For all I know it's the same ball scene they use in every golf show.

[Lipinski]

Great day. Woke up and still have all the fingers and toes, a plus when living with voracious corgi's.

Welsh Corgi's are great dogs. They have inspired me to write about them many times. If I were a rich man I'd buy 30 of them, all of various genders, age, and color. Then, I'd just observe the chaos. It would be like watching humans only funnier and more fun.

*

A dog is a mans best friend
To be there when even empty of hand
or sadness tries to pry all smiles from the face
it's as if
a dog can understand.

Dogs care less if you're rich or poor, healthy or sick,
though they pretend they don't care, they'll lick your hand
bark
jump
and try.

They chase cats, bunnies, and squirrels
Roll in shit and mud
then they want their belly rubbed.

Dogs are fun and joy, helping make the days better
even when in a bind, on a journey to the South Pole
when running out of food
you can eat them or die of starvation while playing with them.
**

"That was good one Robin. Reminds me of puppy on a stick."

Protein parasite. It's all about the protein. And knowing my dogs, they'd taste like road tar what with all the crap they eat outside. So, on an expedition to the South Pole, they'd be the ones eating me.

[Lipinski]

It is amusing that some writers get 'writers block'. That is to say, they can't think of anything to write. Ha! All one has to do is just pull in some experience and expand on it. Or, put your mind in another point of reference. Get away from who you are, be another person, creature, object. Think like they or it, would. (being a rock, is fun but you'd have to know how rocks sing, and man, they sure can shriek)

For me, I've been blessed to have lived so many lives and done so many things that I'll never run out of stuff to write. For example: Currently building a house for an 83 year old man named Gary. Now, the past few days have been hard on Gary. First, his electrical rhythm for his heart went off balance (about the time the eggs were...) So, off to the hospital for a gadget to monitor. Pressure as low as 30.

Then yesterday, he had a huge cancerous tumor on his arm removed (non-malignant) and his heart stopped. So, off to the emergency room and a temporary pace maker. Today, he got a good pacemaker and tomorrow he comes home. But first he wants to go to Costco.

Now, just in this experience is a great potential for a story as it is a story in and of itself. Here is a guy, getting his body poked, prodded and sliced, and he wants to go to Costco.

But. That is only the pre-story. The real story is that Gary knows I love diet Mt. Dew (absolutely toxic waste put into a can) and while he is getting all the work done on him and spirits are battling for his soul, he tells his daughter to make sure she puts a new case in the fridge so it's cool when I get to work. Now, there is a great guy! Plus, a story that's true, interesting, and now in print.

So, for any of you with writers block, it's not because of a lack stories, it is because you close your mind to what's around you.

[Lipinski]

Wonderful storm last night. Winds were howling. Rain was driving sideways. Corgi's were wet (Radar had a packrat cornered and could care less if he was zapped, soaked or blown away.

*

Calm

After turmoil tumultuous airs slowed
filling the moment with silence

Moments only needing change
crickets observe and sing

A new morning brings a new day
filling the moments with possibility

With pictures formed and memories savored
It is a good day
Live.

[Lipinski]

Good day and it's Friday! Which means, work tomorrow, though in the good ol days, back when I had money, I'd sleep in. But. Hey. Read a thread and see how easy it is for something to escalate, elevate, prop up, develop, into a story all by itself.

5th graders. Little people with brains still much more evolved than monkeys. Lets see, what did I do in fifth grade? For that matter, what did I write and read? Well. At that age,11. I devoured books. Literally. Sex. War. Science. Back in the day at the public library in my town, I could check out any book I wanted, and so, I did. What fun! It definitely helped make me the crazy person I am today.

For perspective, 10 year olds are killing people with AK-47's over in sand filled countries. Or getting married in India. And what is age? Relativity? I've seen 50 year old men/women with the mental fortitude and writing skills of a trained seal. I've also seen youngsters with intellect on par with senile snails. Age means nothing unless judging by biological standards. Youngsters heal faster than old people. Actually the only real benefit for old people is experience/s. That's it. Age is only a number, the mind (aside from the biological) is always young.

In this day and age of internet porn (amazing what is out there, sometimes I have to turn my computer screen upsidesown to make sense of some of it) Seriously though, in this day and age, it is GOOD to have youngsters develop a love for writing and reading.

I mean, have you also seen some of the computer games? I once watched two 8 year olds play a video game where they killed policemen and old ladies, laughing the whole time.

It also is humorous to think the youngsters are naive when it comes to the worldly ways of the 'bad' stuff out there. Ha! I remember when my dad said, "It's time we had a talk about..." (he was sweating and trying to find the words about sex) I just laughed when he finished and said, Sure, what do you want to know about? He laughed and looked relieved.

Aphelion is an excellent site. One of my favorites. (Pygmy porn being the other, amazing what little people can do with coconut oil and zebra's)

Anyway. The more writers, the more readers, the better. Freedom. Imagination. It's all good, or bad, depending on ones choice and perspective.

If you haven't entered the flash contest for June, get writing. And if you're in second grade, shit, if you can read the stuff on this thread then whatever you write will be leaps and bounds better. So, get going, get writing.

[Lipinski]

A bee- U- T- ful day outside this morning! My nose is tingling in anticipation of sneezing, with the eyes singing in agitation.
Snot flowing... Oh. My. The joy of those damn little grass pollen thinga-ma-jigs floating around in the air.

Allergies. Amazing how the human body resists certain environmental elements. Some people are allergic to peanuts, Some to other foods. Some to material such as wool. What fun.

I get hay fever and it depends on the location and type of flowering plant. Plus, the weather. This year, here in I-dee-ho, we've had enough rain to float the biblical ark, (and then some) as a result the green stuff is in overdrive as the sun finally said, "Okay you fucking little clouds, watch this..." and with the resulting sunlight and the stubborn clouds dropping rain...Yikes! The plants are having orgasms all over the place.

The other day at work, the sky did a splash-and-dash, resulting in the water puddle on the concrete to look like it was covered in yellow flour. The pollen count was very high.

Yep. A good day to live. To write. To sneeze ten-million times and then, to top it all off, rub my eyes for momentary relief only to pay dearly as the eyes turn red and puff over.
*
Now, a bit on writing: I'm amazed on how little tolerance there is to profanity. I've written and talked often about profanity. The other day I read a quot from a dead president basically saying, "why swear or use profanity when there are so many other good words..." I say, horseshit. Who is to say what word is more beautiful or better than others?

A steaming pile of fresh shit lay piled in the five gallon bucket
A steaming pile of fresh excrement lay piled in the five gallon bucket

Which sentence is 'better'? Which bring to mind the foul smelling stench of bio waste fermenting and waiting to attract flies?

The answer is: Whatever whatever whateverrrr readers minds want to 'think' is better.

Words are only tools of a species. God. Satan. Fuck. Intercourse. Up. Down. Right. Left. Black. White.

Words are only a means of translating thoughts/actions into a means of letting others know. They represent history, the future, the present. They can be used to express love or hate or both at the same time.

For me, profanity has deeper meanings than the mechanical of the mundane. To say, "That is a beautiful flower." Okay. Point taken. The flower is beautiful. To say, "That is one fucking beautiful flower." To me that transcends and enforces/enhances the power of the word, 'beautiful'. To me it does not mean the word 'beautiful' is getting a dick in it. That level of thinking is for primitive minds (in my opinion of course).

So, today is a fucking beautiful day. And, since I actually get a day off from work, I'm gonna fucking enjoy it!

[Lipinski]

Yep, a fantastic day. Went swimming at a hot spring to rejuvenate/recharge, and it was more than fucking fantastic. No sneezing. No snot. And the conversation was wonderful.

Little Ira, 18 months old and looking like an angel. 11 k year old Ashley who want to act like she was 20. (she thinks cartoons are for little children...Ha! Then I must be a baby!) And then, 2 year old River, a cutey who loved to show off her Minnie Mouse swim suit.

Now. You're never to old to learn new shit. Talked with a couple (she was a nurse and he was a highschool counselor and I asked lots of questions)

His tattoo was of a tree from Ethiopia atop a cross. Their adopted daughter is from Ethiopia. (man, is she gonna be a handfull) Their two boys were from here. Learned they function well as a family unit but what was most interesting was the education about Riddlin.

Seems like Riddlin is a super form of caffeine. They give it to hyperactive children to calm them down. This sounds like a contradiction but from what I learned was that those children's minds are so active they get bored so by giving them Riddlin, the mind is occupied and they become calm.

I asked where I can buy some... Guess I'll just have to stick to LSD and heroin mixed with crushed ice and strawberries.

Anyway, inspirational.
*

Drugs

Toothache gains pain and tears with motherly love to calm and father to pull the roots
An aspirin works almost as well as ice cream.

Headache hurts the brain, failing calm and sleep
An aspirin works while the stomach bleeds.

Cuts and bruises, fatigue and pain
Advil or Aleve make the body think they are free.

Caffeine to stay awake, alcohol to sleep
Viagra for an erection, Marijuana to be cool
Nicotine for pleasure, chemo to treat the lung cancer
Speed to stay on the highway for 24 hours, sugar to satisfy the sweet...

A world of drugs to solve everything
except...
drugs really don't solve
anything.

Tears still fall, and still come the addictions
Fooling the body and mind
Temporary actions, temporary relief
which is why some people go straight to the end, the final solution
finding death through poison
a relief.

[Lipinski]

Today told an eleven year old girl who is going camping with her grandmother this Thursday, I told her she is going to get eaten by a black bear while they sleep in yurt. She acted like she was not affected but it was fun to see her thinking about it. I asked her she was a fast runner. She said she got first place in a 800 yard race. I said good, then it's her grandmother that's gonna get eaten.

I got a lot of experience with bears. Black, brown, and grizzly. I'll take a brown or griz any day over black. Those black bastards can kill you or just damage stuff. One jumped up and down on the roof of a truck I once owned. Oh, he is so lucky I did not see him do it...

When we had a store I used to ask the tourists what the most dangerous animal in (Montana, and Alaska) Funny. People usually said, "Bears."
I just smiled and said, nope, people are the most dangerous. Followed by a cow moose with her calf. Bears are way lower on the danger scale.

Yep. Humans are the most dangerous creatures on the face of this planet. Smile at you one moment and kill you the next. Allah Akbar. Environmental wacko's. Democrats. Republicans. A crazed group of unstable creatures if you ask me. I'll take cow moose with calves, bears, snakes, poisonous spiders, any creature is more trustful than humans.

But, the other animals make lousy players of checkers and they for sure can't cook. Humans. Can't live with em, can't get away from em, might as well sell them trinkets.
*
The Trader

Shop of no windows, blacken raven clutched blackened peak
Roof shedding rain as if tears falling from destitution
"Come, come inside. Lets trade."

Appearing when needed in need, indeed.
City.
Village.
Hovel.
"Come, come inside. Lets trade."

So many came, come, and leave
Carrying, pulling, pushing,
something they need.

"Come, come inside. Lets trade," The dark voice sinister, hidden in shadow, wisps of smoke only reveal...
"What is it you need?"
Man. Woman. Boy. Girl.
"I need..."

Laughter curls bitter while those hearing feel sweet
A fire appears in the center, demons dancing feet
"There. Will that do?" Laughter feeling more like pain.

"Yes. Yes. This will do. How much?"
"For you, only one small thing..."

The Devil talks in tongues, all tongues of people
The People think they are above, they are free
Smart. Aloof. All knowing.
"What? What small thing?"

"I need a favor. Small. Nothing much. But when I call, it is you will do what I need...

With a bargain struck with the people feeling good, they beat the Devil and really did not have to pay.
Off with their material things, their love potions, their emotions, their health, wealth, joy, life...

Time comes and goes and never does it stay
The trader knows at it lives forever laughing, knowing and feeling and collecting everyday,
exactly what it needs.

**

"Robin. That's an old play on 'Devil' and soul, and bargaining, blah, blah, blah..."

So?

"There ain't no such thing as the Devil. Bunch of gobbly gook."

Whatever you want to think parasite. But, just to wipe that smug look off your face, I'm gonna take a little trip tonight and show you first 'hand'. Then, in the morning, you tell me what you think...

[Lipinski]

(silence)

Why so silent this morning parasite?

"Holy shit dude. What the hell did you show me last night..."

I showed you the Devil. How'd you like it?

"Like? Man, that was beyond crazy shit... I must admit, I thought I was hardcore crazy but damn."

So, was it what you expected?

"Hell no. It was, it is... strange."

Yes. Strange would be a good description. And it left you you, how?

"Changed..."

Exactly parasite. Changed. Knowledge is something and something that some species should not have the ability to know.
*

Hell: Usually a 'place'. A setting of. A destination. A feeling. Mostly thought of as evil, bad, punishment.

Many cultures attach the descriptions of hell to fit their beliefs and society. Hot. Cold. Pain. Nothing. Torture. Hmmm... sounds a bit like living on this planet.

Much has been written about the various versions of hell/Hell. Which are correct? Which are wrong?
**

Today is a good day to write, work and live. By doing so, it is an escape from hell. A reprieve. A blessing.

***
Today is a good day
to live.

[Lipinski]

Currently a whole lot of bee hives have been placed around here. Over 140.

The hives are placed here because the honey produced by the flower of the star thistle makes for a honey almost clear. And there is no shortage of star thistle, or any weeds. There are even some nice roses and domestics flowers to feast upon.

What will be interesting is the interaction between the domestic and wild bees. There is a nice wild bee colony in the cliff side next to where I live. Looks like they are going to have some visitors. My money is on the wild bees. They have to be very tough to live next to me.

*

Buzz

Feed feed feed
Weeds weeds weeds
Flower flower flower.

So sweet the nectar, so perfect the geometry
Soft fuzz the body collects
To the colony to process

Miles they fly, in search of
Finding
Crawling.

Life under the Sun so busy
Sleeping the night under the moon
It is good to see, and sticky to eat, such the product
Honey.

[Lipinski]

Ha! Reading the news this morning there is the fun one where a guy from Kansas who robbed a bank so he could go to jail and get away from his wife. Poor bastard got sentenced to six months of home confinement... That judge sure has a great sense of judicial humor.

As for inspiration. Damn. A billion stories can be written about this one.
*
"So. Idiot. You wanted to get away from me?" She wore hair curlers made of the early 1960's plastic and thus indestructible. On her feet were pink slippers and her nightgown looked more fitting as a funeral shroud.

The man sat there in silence, his fingers trembling a bit as they held a cold cup of coffee.

"Ha! You screw up everything. Everything that is, except me."

The man thought about the bank he recently robbed. It was a good plan he thought. No one gets hurt. He goes to jail and plays cards with other inmates. Gets three meals and a warm bed. Most importantly, he gets peace.

"What do ya want for breakfast this morning?" The question was asked more in jest as the woman sure as hell was never going to cook for the idiot again.

There is the straw that breaks the proverbial back. For the man, his thoughts turned a bit dark as his original plan backfired. The judge he had at his trial saw to that. But he'd show them. He'd show them all as he headed into the basement to find the childhood baseball bat...

[Lipinski]

Our neighbor Dan got chased by a Sow black bear. You see, his dog chased and harassed the three cubs and momma got pissed. Swatted the dog and took off after Dan. Guess he ran and screamed so loud they heard him in four states.

Momma almost caught him and then turned her attention back to the cubs.

Dan is one lucky bastard, as I mentioned earlier, those black bear are true bastards when they want to be. Ha. Just remembered a time I was hound hunting with my dogs and a friend and his dog. We treed a small blackie, about 200 pounds. (blackies usually tree up to 350 pounds, after that they take the dogs for a couple of days hike)

Anyways, this little blackie was up in the tree looking down at us and the barking dogs. (Platts got a good ball mouth, sounds like music) After a bit, the bear started to shimmy his ass down the tree. So, being really smart my friend poked its ass with a stick, and it did not phase it. If anything, it came down faster. Right on top of us so we pulled the dogs and jumped to the side just as it jumped the final few feet and waddled off. I swear it was swearing at us as it left. Got a good laugh over that one.

Had to get rid of my two hounds as I came home from work one day and they both ganged up on our small female sheltie and tore her head off her body. Gave the hounds to a Montana state trapper who used hounds for treeing problem mountain lions. This guy had a cool little terrier that he'd send down after coyotes denned up. Vicious little yapper.

Anyways, just goes to show that just writing about memories is easy and stories of themselves. And for those people who think hunting with hounds is cruel, or evil, or bad... Do some research on how that tofu loved so dearly is made and processed. This is a cruel world and the world cruel is open to interpretation.

[Lipinski]

Summer Solstice

As interesting as when the sunlight in December is at its shortest only in June the sunlight is the longest. Unless, you live in Australia.

Many cultures worship the sun and the sun was the first deity, well, one of them. Many cultures worship anything to include the lint in their navel.

Religion. Cults. Druids. Drunkards. Farmer. Pagans. Pillow poppers... All view the sun differently. Some bathe in it, turning golden brown. Others swim. Some watch how many minutes a day are gained and then after the solstice, lose.

Humans are a strange species. Placing importance on the star alignments, the position of the moon, the strength of the sun. And some even combine other aspects of nature. Fertility. Harvest. Planting. A never-ending story of the cycle of life.

All veeery entertaining and inspirational.
***

The Ceremony

Robes worn, many white while some follow the ancient way of naked with natural paints.
Paints sacred with tone, harvested by hand and mixed.
Lines of understanding standing standing standing
Mosses, leaves, flowers, grasses...mixed for smoke and token
Alligned, Circled, a natural equation.

Bare feet to connect, hands lifted to reach, hearts open/hearts closed
Barren
Cold
Aloof
Apart
They do not know as they are lost in tradition, lost in collusion, lost while trying to find.

Secrets they say, hidden from mind and eye
only
the wind laughs, seeing, hearing, knowing.
Such simple ways corrupted yet, growing...

Fires burn hot. Ash to coal to dust. And when it's over, the wind takes over.

Winds blow free, aloof, at will, with will, with friends, with knowing.

Time is not important, nor the day, the stars, the sun, the moon...
Insects sing as singing is so much more important.
The stars join in, the moon, the sun, the wind and then...

Rocks dance for joy, gravel voice in harmony with tradition
Trees sway, roots release, they walk the path of dreams
A world alive during night and day.

Planets gossip, comets cause mischief,
and through it all
God smiles
the wind blowing from hands of grace
given,
not taken.