Jennifer Lawrence recalls 'trauma' from nude photo leak: 'Anybody can go look at my naked body'
speaking of poon tang, Jennifer suffers trauma from people seeing her nude body. If it was possible, I'd post a picture of my nude body here...Why? Why not. A human body is a perfect example of the beautiful workings of a well designed biological machine. And my body is MUCH better looking than the parasites...
"Fuck you. You're fat, bald, and ugly."
And you are sexless, purple and ooze weird pus.
"Yeah, but, but, but... Fuck you!"
So, tonight's inspiration is the ability to look forward at the mass reduction coming for the human population. And just like a naked body, it will be beautiful to see the clock reset and the population reduced 99%
***
Beautiful
See that crystal clear stream?
People used to swim, fish, and play there.
Feel that warm breeze?
Cities used to swelter while killing each other.
Can you hear that?
No. There are no more politicians.
Some say death is a bad thing, and once many to include the self used to believe that
Now, i love to dream by a crystal clear stream
alone
and naked.
Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
Moderator: Editors
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
"Our planet is over a billion years old!"
or has it even been born yet?
/what happens when the earth wakes up./
Maybe they were, or were they not, mostly correct?
if that's the case,
the center of the galaxy, thr womb of the sun,
what then
will be
the condition of humanity.
or has it even been born yet?
/what happens when the earth wakes up./
Maybe they were, or were they not, mostly correct?
if that's the case,
the center of the galaxy, thr womb of the sun,
what then
will be
the condition of humanity.
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
Happy Thanksgiving!
Two nice words. Happy. Thanksgiving.
So many words to choose from and lately in the 'woke' culture of those still so comfortable in being a sleep, Thanksgiving represents genocide and indigenous persecution. As such the perfect inspiration for what reality will not ignore. As such, Thanks God, for in your humor it is... Grand!
*
The Blackfoot
"Kaanaisskiinaa..." this is what the young warrior thought of his Cree adversary. The Cree, children of the mouse. Timid. Weak. Perfect though to steal their horses, women, and to test death.
The Blackfoot, children of Creator. Strong in the ways of bravery and strength unmatched by those who claimed title of Flathead, Nez Perce, Cree...
War. The sweet taste of the blood of those unable to stand to the ability of what is now the, Siksikaitsitapi
The white dogs are still dogs. The Cree are still kaanaisskiinaa. The world is still the world of the Creator and the blade of Nittsitapi
Thank you Miistakis. Napi keep our people strong.
Two nice words. Happy. Thanksgiving.
So many words to choose from and lately in the 'woke' culture of those still so comfortable in being a sleep, Thanksgiving represents genocide and indigenous persecution. As such the perfect inspiration for what reality will not ignore. As such, Thanks God, for in your humor it is... Grand!
*
The Blackfoot
"Kaanaisskiinaa..." this is what the young warrior thought of his Cree adversary. The Cree, children of the mouse. Timid. Weak. Perfect though to steal their horses, women, and to test death.
The Blackfoot, children of Creator. Strong in the ways of bravery and strength unmatched by those who claimed title of Flathead, Nez Perce, Cree...
War. The sweet taste of the blood of those unable to stand to the ability of what is now the, Siksikaitsitapi
The white dogs are still dogs. The Cree are still kaanaisskiinaa. The world is still the world of the Creator and the blade of Nittsitapi
Thank you Miistakis. Napi keep our people strong.
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
Knives
Swiss Army or Leatherman
The Swiss dabble in yodeling and nice feathery hats
The American chew tobacco and eat chilli
Fine cheese and clocks? Of course, the Swiss
AR-15 and racist drivel? Of course, the Americans
So, what is best?
The Swiss Army knife
or the Leatherman?
Leave the finery such as chocolate and clean streets to the Swiss
Possess what all real men must possess to cut through all the shit...
When it comes to knives, always buy a Leatherman.
Swiss Army or Leatherman
The Swiss dabble in yodeling and nice feathery hats
The American chew tobacco and eat chilli
Fine cheese and clocks? Of course, the Swiss
AR-15 and racist drivel? Of course, the Americans
So, what is best?
The Swiss Army knife
or the Leatherman?
Leave the finery such as chocolate and clean streets to the Swiss
Possess what all real men must possess to cut through all the shit...
When it comes to knives, always buy a Leatherman.
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
"What the heck were you thinking by bidding on a piano?"
And parasite,why do you eat canned tuna while actually believing it is tuna and not dolphin?
"It is tuna. No one would dare kill and can dolphins. That would be wrong."
And I bet you also believe that Dr. Fauci was born the natural way and not created in a toilet...
"Fuck Fauci. And why are you changing the subject? I asked why you bid on not only one but TWO pianos. You can't play nothing except to play with yourself."
I can learn. Besides, I scored two piano's from the music department of the university for only .99 each. That is fantastic.
"Whatever. Boring boring booooooring shit if you ask me."
I didn't ask you so why don't you go pester Dr. Fauci while he concocts another worldwide virus?
"Nah, he stinks like tuna."
*
(amazing though, I bought a Clark and Story and a Hamilton piano in perfect working order for only .99 and yet it costs $25 for two people to eat a Subway sandwich, which is fertilizer a few hours later. I guess it is what it is and it is,
inspirational.)
Ding
To hear a doorbell ring means the tone was set for expectation
To give a child a drum means coming attractions of pleasure and pain
Music is the soul of humanity, or at least, one of them
Using vocals of cord and instrument... Always the song, the rhythm, the moments filled with chorus and emotions.
People sing in the shower, and why? To wash away the dirt of the vocal mundane and the oceans of silence.
Can't carry a note or play a tune? When was the last time you tried?
Better to learn to embrace and express music than to smash windows and listen to sirens.
And parasite,why do you eat canned tuna while actually believing it is tuna and not dolphin?
"It is tuna. No one would dare kill and can dolphins. That would be wrong."
And I bet you also believe that Dr. Fauci was born the natural way and not created in a toilet...
"Fuck Fauci. And why are you changing the subject? I asked why you bid on not only one but TWO pianos. You can't play nothing except to play with yourself."
I can learn. Besides, I scored two piano's from the music department of the university for only .99 each. That is fantastic.
"Whatever. Boring boring booooooring shit if you ask me."
I didn't ask you so why don't you go pester Dr. Fauci while he concocts another worldwide virus?
"Nah, he stinks like tuna."
*
(amazing though, I bought a Clark and Story and a Hamilton piano in perfect working order for only .99 and yet it costs $25 for two people to eat a Subway sandwich, which is fertilizer a few hours later. I guess it is what it is and it is,
inspirational.)
Ding
To hear a doorbell ring means the tone was set for expectation
To give a child a drum means coming attractions of pleasure and pain
Music is the soul of humanity, or at least, one of them
Using vocals of cord and instrument... Always the song, the rhythm, the moments filled with chorus and emotions.
People sing in the shower, and why? To wash away the dirt of the vocal mundane and the oceans of silence.
Can't carry a note or play a tune? When was the last time you tried?
Better to learn to embrace and express music than to smash windows and listen to sirens.
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
how it happened does not matter to those such as the shadows of life. recorded on a parchment made of a world of many worlds; different and yet so very much the same. is it the words? maybe some need the comfort of direction, so the answer is, no. is it the texture of the parchment? brittle, old; substance of view. how it happened remains the same as it is. it just is
4.4
44
4
for in this realm there exists a peace of which is perfection
for me.
***
Common Sense
A child plays with the obvious; master chefs they are with the ingredients of imagination
Preparing a world where their reality becomes lost to ignorance and forced memory.
"Why does Lightning make sound?" A question grounded to the mind as the vibrations shakes what is before them.
What is the answer?
Voltage?
Speed of sound?
Angels bowling?
A child asks when inside they already know, just as they have always known.
There is for all life, a moment where the vulnerability is open to explore
A moment where all the knowledge needed forges an eternal smile
Life a flower opened; ripe fertilization of what can never die
`
`
`
`
strange. how strange though, as the dust settles with age as they cling on the parchment old; ink of a lost importance
scribbled
incoherent and useless to a child
instead holding the loving Hand of God
while the wind blows the ashes of a parchment to dust
where it belongs.
4.4
44
4
for in this realm there exists a peace of which is perfection
for me.
***
Common Sense
A child plays with the obvious; master chefs they are with the ingredients of imagination
Preparing a world where their reality becomes lost to ignorance and forced memory.
"Why does Lightning make sound?" A question grounded to the mind as the vibrations shakes what is before them.
What is the answer?
Voltage?
Speed of sound?
Angels bowling?
A child asks when inside they already know, just as they have always known.
There is for all life, a moment where the vulnerability is open to explore
A moment where all the knowledge needed forges an eternal smile
Life a flower opened; ripe fertilization of what can never die
`
`
`
`
strange. how strange though, as the dust settles with age as they cling on the parchment old; ink of a lost importance
scribbled
incoherent and useless to a child
instead holding the loving Hand of God
while the wind blows the ashes of a parchment to dust
where it belongs.
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
Today was an important day. The importance of the day had nothing to do with marital relationships of movie stars or the sex life of Dr. Fauci. It was important because today a young man, or what society likes to say, a boy... talked after he listened.
In many cultures, elders are respected for their experience and wisdom. Today, a Nez Perce elder soaked. We talked of religion and indigenous cultures, to include spirit animals. Needed. Wonderful. All but a prelude for a skinny white teenager just appreciating the lower end of the 'teen'.
Wise. Intelligent. And he will be one who helps in the construction of a device to produce energy, commonly known as, cold fusion.
Very few humans interest me. It can be counted on one hand those who have earned my respect of energy expenditures of ' opening up, 'this 'boy' is now one of them. He has some physical obstacles to win over in the coming years but his future is and can be summed up in one word...BRIGHT!
Amazing how a child can become an important part of the candle called society. To be the flame.
*
Stuffing a toad down the neck of a girl wearing a dress... For a boy? Wonderful!
For a girl to pass a note to a friend about a boy she likes... A tradition.
Boys and girls, society would have you choose that there is no difference.
What is society?
Boys and girls.
It seems history always has to repeat itself until there is nothing left to create history
but at least there will be
an eternal power producing
machine.
In many cultures, elders are respected for their experience and wisdom. Today, a Nez Perce elder soaked. We talked of religion and indigenous cultures, to include spirit animals. Needed. Wonderful. All but a prelude for a skinny white teenager just appreciating the lower end of the 'teen'.
Wise. Intelligent. And he will be one who helps in the construction of a device to produce energy, commonly known as, cold fusion.
Very few humans interest me. It can be counted on one hand those who have earned my respect of energy expenditures of ' opening up, 'this 'boy' is now one of them. He has some physical obstacles to win over in the coming years but his future is and can be summed up in one word...BRIGHT!
Amazing how a child can become an important part of the candle called society. To be the flame.
*
Stuffing a toad down the neck of a girl wearing a dress... For a boy? Wonderful!
For a girl to pass a note to a friend about a boy she likes... A tradition.
Boys and girls, society would have you choose that there is no difference.
What is society?
Boys and girls.
It seems history always has to repeat itself until there is nothing left to create history
but at least there will be
an eternal power producing
machine.
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
There is nothing to claim, only a reflection
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
It would be easy to write of a future car wreck, but what would that accomplish?
Or the usual mundane of abortion/murder versus the power of life as the winner is always life.
There could be writing of humor or fantasy
Tickle the elbow of intellect
Be cautious with the snowmobile
and yet?
War? There is always war and in the next conflict between Earth and the Sun, some great casualtities
of course, war between the machines and biological;s could be written in a beautiful way.
Boring, boring, boring so a recipe. An experiment among the many under study.
*
Bread
3.0 cups of unbleached flour
1.0 tablespoons of molasses
A pinch of sugar
A pinch of salt
1.0 cups of live yeast made from a secret
Consistency of ooze
30 minutes of rest
Folded four times
2.0 hours of rise
Cut into four loaves or two large, ignorant loaves
Bake at 400 degree's for 45 minutes.
Consume and forget all the shit that combines and bakes a world.
Or the usual mundane of abortion/murder versus the power of life as the winner is always life.
There could be writing of humor or fantasy
Tickle the elbow of intellect
Be cautious with the snowmobile
and yet?
War? There is always war and in the next conflict between Earth and the Sun, some great casualtities
of course, war between the machines and biological;s could be written in a beautiful way.
Boring, boring, boring so a recipe. An experiment among the many under study.
*
Bread
3.0 cups of unbleached flour
1.0 tablespoons of molasses
A pinch of sugar
A pinch of salt
1.0 cups of live yeast made from a secret
Consistency of ooze
30 minutes of rest
Folded four times
2.0 hours of rise
Cut into four loaves or two large, ignorant loaves
Bake at 400 degree's for 45 minutes.
Consume and forget all the shit that combines and bakes a world.
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
"Damn..."
So you tried it parasite?
"Yeah. Don't think I want to bathe in that river again. Some pretty weird shit goes on under the surface."
Did you happen to look into the fourth pool? The deep one next to the large rock?
"Is that shit real?"
As real as real gets. The river of Time is available for all to swim in, and even drink of, that is if one likes parasite pee...
"I did not pee in the river!"
Yes you did.
"Well, maybe just a little."
Did you see the Chinese submarine? The one that had the encounter a few years ago, or is it next week? Or maybe, it was today... Agent Barton knows all about it, or they will... Imagine the inspiration of the encounter of a mighty U.S. submarine encountering a Chicom boat that floats under the water near a place currently named, Taiwan.
*
I
I
*
Wolfpack
Children asleep in their beds, dreaming of sex or candy or a nightmare involving their favorite pet
Parents awake, living in a fog of belief, wondering how to pay some of their bills
Politicians preening their cultivated power in front of the mirror.
Teenagers shouting answers to questions they never asked nor can never understand.
Old men wondering why
Old women far past the age of cry
Underneath the waves where life was created, the hunt of metal for metal
not caring for age
not caring for life
hunting
hunting
waiting to destroy.
(China, you are so fucked you might want to start getting a vaccine for massive death, but so too, the world to consider wearing a giant condom)
So you tried it parasite?
"Yeah. Don't think I want to bathe in that river again. Some pretty weird shit goes on under the surface."
Did you happen to look into the fourth pool? The deep one next to the large rock?
"Is that shit real?"
As real as real gets. The river of Time is available for all to swim in, and even drink of, that is if one likes parasite pee...
"I did not pee in the river!"
Yes you did.
"Well, maybe just a little."
Did you see the Chinese submarine? The one that had the encounter a few years ago, or is it next week? Or maybe, it was today... Agent Barton knows all about it, or they will... Imagine the inspiration of the encounter of a mighty U.S. submarine encountering a Chicom boat that floats under the water near a place currently named, Taiwan.
*
I
I
*
Wolfpack
Children asleep in their beds, dreaming of sex or candy or a nightmare involving their favorite pet
Parents awake, living in a fog of belief, wondering how to pay some of their bills
Politicians preening their cultivated power in front of the mirror.
Teenagers shouting answers to questions they never asked nor can never understand.
Old men wondering why
Old women far past the age of cry
Underneath the waves where life was created, the hunt of metal for metal
not caring for age
not caring for life
hunting
hunting
waiting to destroy.
(China, you are so fucked you might want to start getting a vaccine for massive death, but so too, the world to consider wearing a giant condom)
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
Scientists want to experiment with life. Artificial intelligence mixed with stem cells. What fun!
Inspirational.
so, a true story of 'what if'.
*
Imagine
When the rocks of mortality gather when the moons are mixed; blood pouring from the slaughter of innocents,
they take footing in a circle of enticement.
Vibrations so subtle, not even the Owls take notice, the moss... oh so fine the linen spread as the vibrations increase far past intense.
The very ground shakes in ecstasy as the sperm of a Wizard rises above the clouds and crashes down in multiple bolts of lightning, descending into the now open cracks of stone only revealed to those gathered; stones sighing as in reception the very oceans settle.
As the morning sun reveals a now empty field, and forests silent, sworn to secret. The Owls know that another world has left its womb, awakened...
Inspirational.
so, a true story of 'what if'.
*
Imagine
When the rocks of mortality gather when the moons are mixed; blood pouring from the slaughter of innocents,
they take footing in a circle of enticement.
Vibrations so subtle, not even the Owls take notice, the moss... oh so fine the linen spread as the vibrations increase far past intense.
The very ground shakes in ecstasy as the sperm of a Wizard rises above the clouds and crashes down in multiple bolts of lightning, descending into the now open cracks of stone only revealed to those gathered; stones sighing as in reception the very oceans settle.
As the morning sun reveals a now empty field, and forests silent, sworn to secret. The Owls know that another world has left its womb, awakened...
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
The question arises; a bar? Tavern? Pub?
Establishments have abounded since the invention of fermentation and the human consumption of alcohol enabled common areas of drunken participation. Groups of drinkers whetting their thirst and sating it with such beverages as ale, beer, whisky, grog, glug. So many names for what can bring to a man the euphoria of numbing the reality of a fucked world called, reality.
Tor'gin was such a man in search of forgetting the recent past. A past filled with many faces of dead that saw his sword blade as the last thing they would ever recognize before their head was separated from a body no longer able to stand or drink of that lovely ingredient of fermentation.
"Would ye be liking another pint sir?" A tender of services asked the troubled man sitting at the table before a very comforting and warm fire.
"Ey. And bring me a woman." A good fuck along with strong drink can do much for a bringer of death.
With a look of embarrassment, the servant stuttered a reply, "I, I, I'm sorry sir. We have no women. The pox has killed many in our village. Could I interest you in a young boy? He is..." But before the flustered man could finish another voice enters the realm of hearing.
"So, you're looking for a good romp huh?" A very fresh and vibrant voice came from a woman dressed in black leather and armed well enough to make any sultans guard ponder for a second before engaging in the like.
Turning, the tired and battered man saw a very beautiful warrior wink at him. "Ey, and who be you woman?"
"My name is..."
(and so, another shit bit of writing buy why not, it is the ravioli speaking)
Establishments have abounded since the invention of fermentation and the human consumption of alcohol enabled common areas of drunken participation. Groups of drinkers whetting their thirst and sating it with such beverages as ale, beer, whisky, grog, glug. So many names for what can bring to a man the euphoria of numbing the reality of a fucked world called, reality.
Tor'gin was such a man in search of forgetting the recent past. A past filled with many faces of dead that saw his sword blade as the last thing they would ever recognize before their head was separated from a body no longer able to stand or drink of that lovely ingredient of fermentation.
"Would ye be liking another pint sir?" A tender of services asked the troubled man sitting at the table before a very comforting and warm fire.
"Ey. And bring me a woman." A good fuck along with strong drink can do much for a bringer of death.
With a look of embarrassment, the servant stuttered a reply, "I, I, I'm sorry sir. We have no women. The pox has killed many in our village. Could I interest you in a young boy? He is..." But before the flustered man could finish another voice enters the realm of hearing.
"So, you're looking for a good romp huh?" A very fresh and vibrant voice came from a woman dressed in black leather and armed well enough to make any sultans guard ponder for a second before engaging in the like.
Turning, the tired and battered man saw a very beautiful warrior wink at him. "Ey, and who be you woman?"
"My name is..."
(and so, another shit bit of writing buy why not, it is the ravioli speaking)
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
"My name is, A'ril. And you must be Tor'gin, leader of the clan of the, Black Wolf." Her words came across as smooth, calm and peaceful but underneath, near the heart beating a vibration... a firm coldness of resolve.
"I be that of which you say." Tor'gin turned away from the woman and tended to slaking his insatiable thirst. He did not need to test blade or words, especially with a woman. He had seem some of those who bleed monthly in rhythm to the moon; perform well in battle only to end up as a lifeless bone pile. In his opinion, women were to be used as comfort to fit the cock and to laugh when fully under the power of drink, otherwise, he had no use for them.
"Hey. Don't turn your back on me."With indignation in her voice she hurled her wooden cup full of mead at the head of Tor'gin. Her aim was excellent as it hit the back of the head and the sound of liquid, wood, and skull sounded as a form of music in the otherwise dull environment of the drinking room.
As the wooden cup ended its travel on the floor, there entered a very powerful silence into the room. The few others sitting there engaged in drink and conversation, turned and stared at the two warriors. A wise mongrel slunk out of the room with his tail between his legs.
The owner of the tavern took his cue from the mongrel and also left the room as did the other patrons. Those who knew Tor'gin or at least knew of his name, knew better then to stay and watch what was coming. Soon, there was only a warm fire crackling in the hearth and the two.
Slowly turning, Tor'gin said with a bit of amusement in his voice, "So, ye wanting a good fight? Or, are ye wanting a good fuck?"
You have to give credit to either a very brave woman or a common woman whose actions were about to get her killed, but A'ril did not even bat an eye as she smiled and lunging forward with two drawn blades said with humor in her voice, "...
"I be that of which you say." Tor'gin turned away from the woman and tended to slaking his insatiable thirst. He did not need to test blade or words, especially with a woman. He had seem some of those who bleed monthly in rhythm to the moon; perform well in battle only to end up as a lifeless bone pile. In his opinion, women were to be used as comfort to fit the cock and to laugh when fully under the power of drink, otherwise, he had no use for them.
"Hey. Don't turn your back on me."With indignation in her voice she hurled her wooden cup full of mead at the head of Tor'gin. Her aim was excellent as it hit the back of the head and the sound of liquid, wood, and skull sounded as a form of music in the otherwise dull environment of the drinking room.
As the wooden cup ended its travel on the floor, there entered a very powerful silence into the room. The few others sitting there engaged in drink and conversation, turned and stared at the two warriors. A wise mongrel slunk out of the room with his tail between his legs.
The owner of the tavern took his cue from the mongrel and also left the room as did the other patrons. Those who knew Tor'gin or at least knew of his name, knew better then to stay and watch what was coming. Soon, there was only a warm fire crackling in the hearth and the two.
Slowly turning, Tor'gin said with a bit of amusement in his voice, "So, ye wanting a good fight? Or, are ye wanting a good fuck?"
You have to give credit to either a very brave woman or a common woman whose actions were about to get her killed, but A'ril did not even bat an eye as she smiled and lunging forward with two drawn blades said with humor in her voice, "...
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
"What I want you can't give..." and she did a cross of blades of which one drew a fine red line of blood across Tor'gin's left thigh.
No words of anger were uttered by the man, nor were any words of any sort spoken as he cleared his sword in time to stop the second blade in motion from adding a mark on the right leg.
The two parried and thrust blade upon blade in a whirlwind motion; blurred to any observer foolish enough to witness the battle. A'ril was indeed very skilled as she launched another form of sword play against her foe Then, with a lightning fast uncoiling of her leg, her foot made a full force of contact on the genitals of Tor'gin. A blow so powerful most men would have instantly fallen into a curled ball of pain. He however gave a hearty laugh and said, "Ha! A good play wench. I do enjoy this foreplay."
Her faced turned red as she intensified her attack but soon it became apparent that Tor'gin was merely playing a game with her now. Her face glistened with sweat and her breathing was beginning to sound labored. Yet, she was stubborn and continued the dance... a very dangerous dance made even more apparent as his blade returned the favor of a blood line scratched through the black leather protecting her left breast.
"Have ye had enough woman?" He asked as he paused to let her catch her breath.
"Never," she replied in a voice sounding strong with resolve.
"As you wish..." and with moves now faster than any viper bite, he proceeded to inflict damage upon her body. Damage no where near life threatening but his blade proved to very sharp against her will and armor.
No words of anger were uttered by the man, nor were any words of any sort spoken as he cleared his sword in time to stop the second blade in motion from adding a mark on the right leg.
The two parried and thrust blade upon blade in a whirlwind motion; blurred to any observer foolish enough to witness the battle. A'ril was indeed very skilled as she launched another form of sword play against her foe Then, with a lightning fast uncoiling of her leg, her foot made a full force of contact on the genitals of Tor'gin. A blow so powerful most men would have instantly fallen into a curled ball of pain. He however gave a hearty laugh and said, "Ha! A good play wench. I do enjoy this foreplay."
Her faced turned red as she intensified her attack but soon it became apparent that Tor'gin was merely playing a game with her now. Her face glistened with sweat and her breathing was beginning to sound labored. Yet, she was stubborn and continued the dance... a very dangerous dance made even more apparent as his blade returned the favor of a blood line scratched through the black leather protecting her left breast.
"Have ye had enough woman?" He asked as he paused to let her catch her breath.
"Never," she replied in a voice sounding strong with resolve.
"As you wish..." and with moves now faster than any viper bite, he proceeded to inflict damage upon her body. Damage no where near life threatening but his blade proved to very sharp against her will and armor.
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
Vanity and pride belong with politicians but never with any warrior. For Tor'gin he fell prey to what he should have never allowed, this being he underestimated the skill of his female combatant. For all his strength and stamina he forgot that there are those with skills beyond the obvious. This was proven when in a feint, A'ril slashed at Tor'gin's neck. At the last particle of a second, he shifted balance and the target for her blade was now a glancing blow to the shoulder. This caused the blade to bounce up and smash the side of his face with the flat side of the blade.
"Ayee!" A simple word of surprise for a stunned man who in the next few moments underwent a fierce attack by one he thought was weaker and tiring. Only now, she surprised him with movements of agility and skill. He regained his composure and went on the defense.
The two danced a beautiful picture of strength and skill. At one moment, A'ril seemed to have the advantage, and then Tor'gin had the advantage. It was hard to tell how much time had passed but it was obvious during the time much damage to the room had occurred. Tables smashed. Benches broken. Blood spilled. And yet, the fire still blazed with a warm intensity, albeit a bit smokey after bits and pieces of the battle had take refuge there.
Tor'gin decided enough was enough as the call of drink and loin still beckoned. With a decision made he charged with brute strength straight at A'ril, pushing aside her attempts and deadly blades. Tackling her he pinned her to the debris strewn floor and the two breathed heavy from all the exertion.
Warriors have a bond even if they are enemies. The two laying on the floor had the bond of battle, and now they had the bond of something else. Something which has many names. Their eyes were locked on each other and...
The moment was interrupted with the sound of breaking glass. A window which was not yet broken, announced the entry of a flaming arrow which embedded itself with a resounding thud on the wall above the two.
"Ayee!" A simple word of surprise for a stunned man who in the next few moments underwent a fierce attack by one he thought was weaker and tiring. Only now, she surprised him with movements of agility and skill. He regained his composure and went on the defense.
The two danced a beautiful picture of strength and skill. At one moment, A'ril seemed to have the advantage, and then Tor'gin had the advantage. It was hard to tell how much time had passed but it was obvious during the time much damage to the room had occurred. Tables smashed. Benches broken. Blood spilled. And yet, the fire still blazed with a warm intensity, albeit a bit smokey after bits and pieces of the battle had take refuge there.
Tor'gin decided enough was enough as the call of drink and loin still beckoned. With a decision made he charged with brute strength straight at A'ril, pushing aside her attempts and deadly blades. Tackling her he pinned her to the debris strewn floor and the two breathed heavy from all the exertion.
Warriors have a bond even if they are enemies. The two laying on the floor had the bond of battle, and now they had the bond of something else. Something which has many names. Their eyes were locked on each other and...
The moment was interrupted with the sound of breaking glass. A window which was not yet broken, announced the entry of a flaming arrow which embedded itself with a resounding thud on the wall above the two.
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
Flame from the oil of Sargon burns extremely hot and so when the arrow mixed with a piece of it; now burning with intensity on the wall was viewed. It became the perfect example of the fact.
A voice followed the arrow and a very loud voice bellowed, "Tor'gin! Ye be a bellowing bastard of the king of horseshit himself. We've come to collect what' are owed. Stay and burn like a coward or come out for your death!"
Tor'gin and A'ril still looked at each other, almost as if they were deaf and blind. The arrows flame now engulfed most of the wall and it looked like it would not take long to burn the establishment to the ground. Yet two warriors were locked in each others eyes.
Suddenly, without any thought or decision, Tor'gin bent down quickly and kissed A'ril on the check and then said, "Aye, you are a special one indeed, now come dance with me." Turning, he yelled a very powerful roar of a man who was just about to hurt a lot of something.
Tor'gin ran and jumped through the nearest window, shattering the remaining remnants of glass and frame. His sword held at the ready.
"Bastard!" A'ril replied immediately after his kiss. But as she leaped from the floor, her face wore a smile, and as she leapt silently in the shadow of Tor'gin, her twin blades whispered a song of joy.
for it never ends and dedicated to nobody
A voice followed the arrow and a very loud voice bellowed, "Tor'gin! Ye be a bellowing bastard of the king of horseshit himself. We've come to collect what' are owed. Stay and burn like a coward or come out for your death!"
Tor'gin and A'ril still looked at each other, almost as if they were deaf and blind. The arrows flame now engulfed most of the wall and it looked like it would not take long to burn the establishment to the ground. Yet two warriors were locked in each others eyes.
Suddenly, without any thought or decision, Tor'gin bent down quickly and kissed A'ril on the check and then said, "Aye, you are a special one indeed, now come dance with me." Turning, he yelled a very powerful roar of a man who was just about to hurt a lot of something.
Tor'gin ran and jumped through the nearest window, shattering the remaining remnants of glass and frame. His sword held at the ready.
"Bastard!" A'ril replied immediately after his kiss. But as she leaped from the floor, her face wore a smile, and as she leapt silently in the shadow of Tor'gin, her twin blades whispered a song of joy.
for it never ends and dedicated to nobody
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
In the light of darkness, there carries the shadows of stars and dreams
dreams from endings to beginnings
dreams flowing with each blink of the eyes
eyes open to the room
deep the view as always
always and evermore
the Dream.
dreams from endings to beginnings
dreams flowing with each blink of the eyes
eyes open to the room
deep the view as always
always and evermore
the Dream.
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
A hole in a planet and there is an explanation
Poisonous gas
A virus
Aliens
God
or
the most logical explanation is it is those damn dwarves...
"Hi Ho, Hi Ho, Hi Ho..." invisible?
Going back in time?
Damn,
hallucinogenic mushrooms growing under a new moon with a curious dwarf taking a nibble...
Amazing the hole does not go through the center of the Earth and takes out China...
or maybe?
It does?
Poisonous gas
A virus
Aliens
God
or
the most logical explanation is it is those damn dwarves...
"Hi Ho, Hi Ho, Hi Ho..." invisible?
Going back in time?
Damn,
hallucinogenic mushrooms growing under a new moon with a curious dwarf taking a nibble...
Amazing the hole does not go through the center of the Earth and takes out China...
or maybe?
It does?
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
They searched the holy land, around the Red Sea
Did they miss the clues?
They are messed up in the head
Who are they?
Did they miss the clues?
They are messed up in the head
Who are they?
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
How did they know without looking down from above?
A
Sjhman
Mid'man
Helker
Zoom down from above to the impossible
Hydron
Qurok
Lipmor
To be here and there sim..-.. as if by?
Magik
Borred this moment away
and fly free from thoughts of reality
To see down and above; stink of real.
A
Sjhman
Mid'man
Helker
Zoom down from above to the impossible
Hydron
Qurok
Lipmor
To be here and there sim..-.. as if by?
Magik
Borred this moment away
and fly free from thoughts of reality
To see down and above; stink of real.
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
"Whats with this back-and-forth? First here and then there and, and, and..." (hack hack wheeze)
Easy there parasite. No need for hyperventtalllatingish.
"Wha..What was that, hyperventtallllatingish? That's a bullshit word."
Is it?
*
Bring to mind the view of a needle. A very sharp and petite needle. Unblemished from the taint of human hands; shiny, bright, with no thought of rust ever in need of hiding.
~
pizza. all hail the orb of delish, or in Hollywood, marrrrevlous,
it is
always time to eat.
Easy there parasite. No need for hyperventtalllatingish.
"Wha..What was that, hyperventtallllatingish? That's a bullshit word."
Is it?
*
Bring to mind the view of a needle. A very sharp and petite needle. Unblemished from the taint of human hands; shiny, bright, with no thought of rust ever in need of hiding.
~
pizza. all hail the orb of delish, or in Hollywood, marrrrevlous,
it is
always time to eat.
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
all is quiet as a world sleeps
blissfully unaware
beneath the feet and turmoil
watch now the whiskers on a rabbit wide eyed.
to toss and turn in hopes of staying inside a dream
where there is a look
a glimpse
and then, on time, the sun rises
there as the smoke of a chance taken rises into view
the ground dances a merry tune.
this is dedicated to a friend far beneath any meaning or reason of why
it just is
and it is
a simple song.
blissfully unaware
beneath the feet and turmoil
watch now the whiskers on a rabbit wide eyed.
to toss and turn in hopes of staying inside a dream
where there is a look
a glimpse
and then, on time, the sun rises
there as the smoke of a chance taken rises into view
the ground dances a merry tune.
this is dedicated to a friend far beneath any meaning or reason of why
it just is
and it is
a simple song.
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
"Hey numbnuts. Are you inspired to write something about Christmas 2021?
Not really.
"Why? You always are chock full of bullshit. What's so different about this year?"
Not one damn thing. Humans are still primitive creatures. Elves are pricks. And the only good thing lately are those goblins that have been trying their hands at filming porno videos.
"You saw that?"
i see everything.
"Did you ever imagine it was possible for a fairy and a goblin to do that in a trash can? It looks like that would hurt."
Fairies are good that way. Plus they bake some pretty good chocolate chip cookies. And now, you got me started. I will write something regarding the Christmas Eve of 2021.
"Oh goody. Have fun. I'm gonna go check out the newest goblin porn."
*
Christmas Eve 2021
Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house not a creature was stirring
all except those fucking mice.
Hindu's in India snuggled in their beds thinking of beheading those muslim folks
Israel waiting to make Iran glow with nukes.
Biden dreaming of oatmeal and tits
Trump, guzzling accolades from so many gun toting folks.
The stockings were hung by the Dept of Environmental quality approved chimney (it is emission free and runs on tofu)
Lesbians, gays and trannys did and do what they always do.
College students screamed and shouted at everything, "Boo Boo Boo!"
People who believed in God and what Christmas is really about were nailed to a wall and burned alive
while China gleefully made fentanyl to kill the U.S.A. and thinking of something more evil to do... covid comes to mind...
Russia and Ukraine
China and Taiwan
And look! Up in the sky!
A North Korean drone lit up Santa's sleigh!
All in all, just another nightmare scene on Earth
where humans are doing their best to destroy any and all common sense
leaving the question, will there ever be another Christmas? Or another New Year?
And with volcanoes spewing, earthquakes shaking, asteroids smashing, war, war, disease and death...
Would anyone actually want to survive?
So, writing this while on another world, a planet so far from this shit
i wish you all good luck
and just for the shits and grins of it,
Merry Christmas to all and to all,
good night.
Not really.
"Why? You always are chock full of bullshit. What's so different about this year?"
Not one damn thing. Humans are still primitive creatures. Elves are pricks. And the only good thing lately are those goblins that have been trying their hands at filming porno videos.
"You saw that?"
i see everything.
"Did you ever imagine it was possible for a fairy and a goblin to do that in a trash can? It looks like that would hurt."
Fairies are good that way. Plus they bake some pretty good chocolate chip cookies. And now, you got me started. I will write something regarding the Christmas Eve of 2021.
"Oh goody. Have fun. I'm gonna go check out the newest goblin porn."
*
Christmas Eve 2021
Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house not a creature was stirring
all except those fucking mice.
Hindu's in India snuggled in their beds thinking of beheading those muslim folks
Israel waiting to make Iran glow with nukes.
Biden dreaming of oatmeal and tits
Trump, guzzling accolades from so many gun toting folks.
The stockings were hung by the Dept of Environmental quality approved chimney (it is emission free and runs on tofu)
Lesbians, gays and trannys did and do what they always do.
College students screamed and shouted at everything, "Boo Boo Boo!"
People who believed in God and what Christmas is really about were nailed to a wall and burned alive
while China gleefully made fentanyl to kill the U.S.A. and thinking of something more evil to do... covid comes to mind...
Russia and Ukraine
China and Taiwan
And look! Up in the sky!
A North Korean drone lit up Santa's sleigh!
All in all, just another nightmare scene on Earth
where humans are doing their best to destroy any and all common sense
leaving the question, will there ever be another Christmas? Or another New Year?
And with volcanoes spewing, earthquakes shaking, asteroids smashing, war, war, disease and death...
Would anyone actually want to survive?
So, writing this while on another world, a planet so far from this shit
i wish you all good luck
and just for the shits and grins of it,
Merry Christmas to all and to all,
good night.
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
Mankind likes to watch. The sun rises and they move about seeing and feeling. Learning.
When the sun sets, they too sit and watch the sparks rise on their fires of hearth. Looking high, they see the stars of the heavens. So it is and it continues as such men and women search deeper into the Cosmos for answers to questions they have not yet asked
NASA launches James Webb Space Telescope deep into space to see 'distant worlds' and back in time
This is inspiring for many reasons. 'Distant worlds'. Back in time. And, so to a question already asked before mankind knew it existed, an answer of sorts.
*
Greetings from a time of beginning.
You were a thought; glimmer of what it is and will be.
For some, they see nothing more than an ending. A conclusion to a course of so many actions running parallel and yet, nothing happened.
You wonder of the nucleus of atoms, there, inside your mind and body, and what is this inside?
You feel and know of the elements such as hydrogen, iron, copper, gold...
It is a part of you
All of it exists for your existence.
When you hold/held the hand of a child, what is that feeling inside? Inside where there is nothing more than a dream?
Atomic particles have no meaning in such thoughts as love or hate.
Neutrons.
Hadrons.
Quarks.
Chaos.
Order.
Anti matter.
Black holes...
Can any or such cry when nothing more than emotion is touched?
Time is endless. It does not even truly exist.
You do though.
You and those you do not know, those living on the other side of the Universe, they too, are your brothers and sisters.
You have meaning above any meaning of matter or to make it appear simple; No moon, planet or sun could ever exist without you.
Yes, the answer is simple here at the beginning.
You will learn, as you always do.
You will stumble and fall. Giving into what does not matter while learning the treasure others can show.
Eternal.
Immortal.
There is no more needed to search for today
Secure in knowing you will soon be born into what is simple, free, and unencumbered by the 'waste of time'
You will come to know that Life
Life never ends
or grows old.
When the sun sets, they too sit and watch the sparks rise on their fires of hearth. Looking high, they see the stars of the heavens. So it is and it continues as such men and women search deeper into the Cosmos for answers to questions they have not yet asked
NASA launches James Webb Space Telescope deep into space to see 'distant worlds' and back in time
This is inspiring for many reasons. 'Distant worlds'. Back in time. And, so to a question already asked before mankind knew it existed, an answer of sorts.
*
Greetings from a time of beginning.
You were a thought; glimmer of what it is and will be.
For some, they see nothing more than an ending. A conclusion to a course of so many actions running parallel and yet, nothing happened.
You wonder of the nucleus of atoms, there, inside your mind and body, and what is this inside?
You feel and know of the elements such as hydrogen, iron, copper, gold...
It is a part of you
All of it exists for your existence.
When you hold/held the hand of a child, what is that feeling inside? Inside where there is nothing more than a dream?
Atomic particles have no meaning in such thoughts as love or hate.
Neutrons.
Hadrons.
Quarks.
Chaos.
Order.
Anti matter.
Black holes...
Can any or such cry when nothing more than emotion is touched?
Time is endless. It does not even truly exist.
You do though.
You and those you do not know, those living on the other side of the Universe, they too, are your brothers and sisters.
You have meaning above any meaning of matter or to make it appear simple; No moon, planet or sun could ever exist without you.
Yes, the answer is simple here at the beginning.
You will learn, as you always do.
You will stumble and fall. Giving into what does not matter while learning the treasure others can show.
Eternal.
Immortal.
There is no more needed to search for today
Secure in knowing you will soon be born into what is simple, free, and unencumbered by the 'waste of time'
You will come to know that Life
Life never ends
or grows old.
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
Warning: The following contains the word, Phenylktonurics . Readers/writers are advised to proceed with caution as the word, Phenylktonuric, can cause your mind to ask, "How the fuck do you pronounce this lab rat killed diet soda additive???
A lot of stuff can kill a writers story. The overuse of common words. A long winded word description of various characters bodily habits, and even something simple like spilling a diet soda on a completed manuscript.
Diet soda is great. Much healthier than a thirteen year old girl getting an abortion, or receiving a sloppy kiss and having your ass grasped by Joe Biden. As to Phenylktonuric, what a fucking fantastic, mind bending word to try and say fast ten times in a row.
There is inspiration in everything. And watching the advancing wall of snow coming toward me with an agenda you don't want to know about, this soda is fantastic. I wonder what would happen if a caterpillar got addicted to diet soda?
*
Spring, such a lovely time of year. A time where cacoons from last Summer turn into a butterfly or moth. Then, after flying around and mating with other butterflies, new caterpillars covered in strange colored fur wiggle and crawl about looking for a place to build a cacoon.
Biology 101. An endless cycle where shit happens. And speaking of shit, many an insect found excellent dining atop the piles of cow, horse, and whatever animals cast its fecal matter about as much as clouds spew snowflakes.
For years caterpillars crawled on tree branches, bushes, rocks, soil, shit, and in those travels they saw and experienced a lot. For one caterpillar, he ventured inside a half full can of diet Coke and at first thought wondered what kind of strange dark cave had it entered, but those thoughts were soon discarded as he chanced to sip a liquid containing Phenylktonuric. Wow! Or should it be said? OH WOW!
He had only been a caterpillar for a few days but this diet soda was the best thing he had ever tasted. For weeks he drank from the vast reservoir of soda and he grew fat and the color of his fur turned black.
Soon though, the weather turned and it was time to spin a cacoon. So, he did.
Next Spring, the odd colored cacoon with a bizarre shape resembling a cut diamond, the creature entering the world was nothing like a butterfly or moth. What emerged spit flame of fire and roared. As it took flight, it looked just like a dragon from a child's story book.
This dragon took flight and its interest was not gold or sex, rather it craved diet soda. Soon the local grocer would have nightmares of the day a small fire belching dragon ravaged the soda section of the store.
The End.
"Man, I love how fucked up your mind is robin. What would you write if you dropped acid?"
Not a damn thing, I'd be too busy chasing little fire breathing dragons with a fly swatter and a can of cheese.
"Love it!"
Good. Now go tell that snow cloud it will be getting a chewing out soon.
"Whatever."
A lot of stuff can kill a writers story. The overuse of common words. A long winded word description of various characters bodily habits, and even something simple like spilling a diet soda on a completed manuscript.
Diet soda is great. Much healthier than a thirteen year old girl getting an abortion, or receiving a sloppy kiss and having your ass grasped by Joe Biden. As to Phenylktonuric, what a fucking fantastic, mind bending word to try and say fast ten times in a row.
There is inspiration in everything. And watching the advancing wall of snow coming toward me with an agenda you don't want to know about, this soda is fantastic. I wonder what would happen if a caterpillar got addicted to diet soda?
*
Spring, such a lovely time of year. A time where cacoons from last Summer turn into a butterfly or moth. Then, after flying around and mating with other butterflies, new caterpillars covered in strange colored fur wiggle and crawl about looking for a place to build a cacoon.
Biology 101. An endless cycle where shit happens. And speaking of shit, many an insect found excellent dining atop the piles of cow, horse, and whatever animals cast its fecal matter about as much as clouds spew snowflakes.
For years caterpillars crawled on tree branches, bushes, rocks, soil, shit, and in those travels they saw and experienced a lot. For one caterpillar, he ventured inside a half full can of diet Coke and at first thought wondered what kind of strange dark cave had it entered, but those thoughts were soon discarded as he chanced to sip a liquid containing Phenylktonuric. Wow! Or should it be said? OH WOW!
He had only been a caterpillar for a few days but this diet soda was the best thing he had ever tasted. For weeks he drank from the vast reservoir of soda and he grew fat and the color of his fur turned black.
Soon though, the weather turned and it was time to spin a cacoon. So, he did.
Next Spring, the odd colored cacoon with a bizarre shape resembling a cut diamond, the creature entering the world was nothing like a butterfly or moth. What emerged spit flame of fire and roared. As it took flight, it looked just like a dragon from a child's story book.
This dragon took flight and its interest was not gold or sex, rather it craved diet soda. Soon the local grocer would have nightmares of the day a small fire belching dragon ravaged the soda section of the store.
The End.
"Man, I love how fucked up your mind is robin. What would you write if you dropped acid?"
Not a damn thing, I'd be too busy chasing little fire breathing dragons with a fly swatter and a can of cheese.
"Love it!"
Good. Now go tell that snow cloud it will be getting a chewing out soon.
"Whatever."
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
What is your best day of your life? Some might say it was the day their first child was born, others might say it was the day they got the highest score on the PacMan video game.
There is no set answer for anyone as everyone has different levels of what makes them happy.
As such, some inspiration for the following best day of life for a character named, Winston.
*
Winston was given his name by his mother and father in honor of Winston Churchill. And while the great man of England lead a wonderful and interesting life, Winston the newborn was destined for a wonderful and interesting life.
The young lad did well in his studies and sports. He had friends and experiences few could compare with.
He traveled the world and held jobs ranging from the mundane to the complex.
As Winston grew into the various titles of toddler, child, teen, adult, middle aged, senior and very old, he had learned much. He had experienced much. He knew the power of love and the weakness of hate.
So many people had interacted with Winston it became easy for him to wear whatever emotion was needed for the moment.
Money flowed and ebbed, much like the tide.
Homes. Property. Holidays. So much made him happy and sad.
While this writing of Winston's life is but a brief flurry of few words, his life experiences would fill a library.
Finally, as with all organic creatures lives, the DNA strands became corrupted. Age and disease finally took what is always the price of birth; death knocked at Winston's door.
Laying in his hospice bed, his breath became labored and painful. His thoughts; broken fragments with small reflections of clarity. The sounds of battle between life and death was decided by silence and an immobile body of the man laying motionless on the bed.
A familiar scene in hospice rooms; silence, death, and on the faces of those deceased wearing the hollow look of nothing. But on the face of what was once a man named Winston there was the fixed smile of happiness.
As the orderlies covered the body and was getting ready to haul the body to the nearest mortuary, they were as uninterested in Winston's smiling face as they were in their own lives. If however, they would have taken a moment to wonder how a sick, pained old man, left the world with a smile it is doubtful they would ever discover the truth that the day Winston died was the happiest day of his life
The End
"You went fishing today and thought of this shit?"
Nope. Fishing you think of fish. Writing shit is easy.
"Well, for what it's worth, this story sucks."
So parasite, what is the happiest day your life?
"That's easy. Every time I see you get kicked in the nuts or hit your thumb with a hammer is a day to enjoy!"
That's why you have no life. For me, happiness is catching fish and food.
There is no set answer for anyone as everyone has different levels of what makes them happy.
As such, some inspiration for the following best day of life for a character named, Winston.
*
Winston was given his name by his mother and father in honor of Winston Churchill. And while the great man of England lead a wonderful and interesting life, Winston the newborn was destined for a wonderful and interesting life.
The young lad did well in his studies and sports. He had friends and experiences few could compare with.
He traveled the world and held jobs ranging from the mundane to the complex.
As Winston grew into the various titles of toddler, child, teen, adult, middle aged, senior and very old, he had learned much. He had experienced much. He knew the power of love and the weakness of hate.
So many people had interacted with Winston it became easy for him to wear whatever emotion was needed for the moment.
Money flowed and ebbed, much like the tide.
Homes. Property. Holidays. So much made him happy and sad.
While this writing of Winston's life is but a brief flurry of few words, his life experiences would fill a library.
Finally, as with all organic creatures lives, the DNA strands became corrupted. Age and disease finally took what is always the price of birth; death knocked at Winston's door.
Laying in his hospice bed, his breath became labored and painful. His thoughts; broken fragments with small reflections of clarity. The sounds of battle between life and death was decided by silence and an immobile body of the man laying motionless on the bed.
A familiar scene in hospice rooms; silence, death, and on the faces of those deceased wearing the hollow look of nothing. But on the face of what was once a man named Winston there was the fixed smile of happiness.
As the orderlies covered the body and was getting ready to haul the body to the nearest mortuary, they were as uninterested in Winston's smiling face as they were in their own lives. If however, they would have taken a moment to wonder how a sick, pained old man, left the world with a smile it is doubtful they would ever discover the truth that the day Winston died was the happiest day of his life
The End
"You went fishing today and thought of this shit?"
Nope. Fishing you think of fish. Writing shit is easy.
"Well, for what it's worth, this story sucks."
So parasite, what is the happiest day your life?
"That's easy. Every time I see you get kicked in the nuts or hit your thumb with a hammer is a day to enjoy!"
That's why you have no life. For me, happiness is catching fish and food.
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
Writers write. Easy shit to understand but to what ends does the writer write? Some writers steer their stories towards a certain genre. Write about having sex with your cousin, skinning a raccoon with a butter knife, and catching fish with dynamite, your audience is geared towards rich democrats who secretly yearn to be rednecks.
If a writer tries to write stories for true rednecks they are wasting their time because rednecks can't read anything other than the fine print on a whiskey bottle.
Some writers write what they write because that is what they want to write and they don't give a damn as to what or whom reads it. A perfect example would be Stephen King. He writes the way he wants about what he wants.
The common theme being written about is that writers write as humans for humans. Boring shit for other creatures reading that are NOT human. So, another form of inspiration as I will now assume the form of an Ogre. Not an Ogress because they are uglier than an ogre and don't sport a large penis.
(a word of caution. Ogres and Ogresss do not speak English nor do they use letters of human language so the following is a translated version and as such, a bit disjointed)
*
(Blood scrawled on the upper part of the cave) "Killed coton. Tear spirit two too to."
(Blood scribbled lower down below the upper part in circles) "Mecop was born."
(what appeared to be some sort of bird thrown so hard at the cave wall it splattered into a geometric pattern) "Yay!"
***
"That's it? That's a poem written by an Ogre for other Ogres and Ogresss?"
Yep.
"What is it supposed to mean?"
You want the long version or the short version.
"Actually, neither. You're fucked in the head and I refuse to be drawn into your web of weirdness."
Too late parasite. You're just where I want you.
"Yay!"
If a writer tries to write stories for true rednecks they are wasting their time because rednecks can't read anything other than the fine print on a whiskey bottle.
Some writers write what they write because that is what they want to write and they don't give a damn as to what or whom reads it. A perfect example would be Stephen King. He writes the way he wants about what he wants.
The common theme being written about is that writers write as humans for humans. Boring shit for other creatures reading that are NOT human. So, another form of inspiration as I will now assume the form of an Ogre. Not an Ogress because they are uglier than an ogre and don't sport a large penis.
(a word of caution. Ogres and Ogresss do not speak English nor do they use letters of human language so the following is a translated version and as such, a bit disjointed)
*
(Blood scrawled on the upper part of the cave) "Killed coton. Tear spirit two too to."
(Blood scribbled lower down below the upper part in circles) "Mecop was born."
(what appeared to be some sort of bird thrown so hard at the cave wall it splattered into a geometric pattern) "Yay!"
***
"That's it? That's a poem written by an Ogre for other Ogres and Ogresss?"
Yep.
"What is it supposed to mean?"
You want the long version or the short version.
"Actually, neither. You're fucked in the head and I refuse to be drawn into your web of weirdness."
Too late parasite. You're just where I want you.
"Yay!"
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
"Just where you want me? What a bunch of malarkey."
Good word there parasite. Malarkey is a word some readers will have to Google or as is better, Duck duck go. But some people still use the word such as Joe Biden. Come to think of it, he probably invented the word.
Anyway, like the new .22?
"Like you need more weapons. Geez, you own what, two tactical nukes? A Russian submarine? Twenty tanks? Couple of howitzers? And about a billion other material altering weapons designed to do unspeakable things to all sorts of creatures."
One can never have enough weapons of not just target plinking tools but of those planet busting behemoths of gigantic proportions that are so fun to fondle just before altering a galaxy.
(sigh)
Enjoy the show parasite. The truth, no matter how it hurts, is still the truth. Those that bear false witness, especially when it involves the pocket book, well, it is... inspirational.
*
She believed in a God. But what God? The God of Abraham? The God of Mohammad?
Maybe she believed in the god or gods?
One God?
Or does she think God is actually many God's?
It does not matter what she thinks as what matters is what she swore and attested to that which caused ripples in the fabric of truth.
And to those who believe their lies go unnoticed... Nothing can ever hide from those that can hear, see, and smell such lies.
***
A long time ago, a beggar asked a rich man for food. The rich man brushed aside the beggar without even the courtesy of looking at the man. As his arm covered in the finery of a gentleman brushed past the beggar, he parted ways by saying, "I don't have time for this. Begone."
On the wall nearby, a small black spider was motionless watching the world pass by. This spider saw the comings and goings of those which frequented the road. It definitely saw and heard the actions between a beggar and a rich man.
This man was once a good man of standing before becoming a bedraggled man of the street. He once had a family and business. Hard work and prayer had got him through very hard times. It was good as it could be during the hard times the world was in.
One day, a very rich man told the King a lie regarding the man. This lie caused the King to seize the property of the man and cast his family into a new world of nothing but misery and death. His wife soon died along with his children. This very rich man was a very religious man and had once kissed the ring of the Pope himself.
Wealth can sometimes become the perfect passport of confidence for those possessing much. For the rich man, he lied to the King to gain favor and because the wife of the beggar once shunned his advances before she became the wife of the beggar.
As the rich man walked away from the beggar thinking thoughts of whatever it is rich, religious, liars think of. The spider saw and the legs of the spider caused vibrations to form on the web. No one saw the spider and if they did, they would not care.
Later that night, the beggar passed away and entered a new world. A world where he saw his wife and children 'alive' and well. Everything bad was forgotten. There would be no more memories of a planet filled with nothing but death and pain.
This same night, a piece of spiders web drifted into the bedroom of the rich man snoring peacefully in his bed. At his side, a beautiful naked woman was breathing softly and her skin glowed in the moonlight.
Such a small piece of web. It was fine as silk and smooth.
The web drifted towards the man and was inhaled during the moment of snoring. In the morning, the beautiful woman woke and looking towards her lover, screamed loudly.
Beside her lay the cold body of a man covered in sores oozing pus and lungs empty of air. And floating away in the air towards the window was the small strand of web, a web being watched miles away from a smiling spider named, Fred.
Good word there parasite. Malarkey is a word some readers will have to Google or as is better, Duck duck go. But some people still use the word such as Joe Biden. Come to think of it, he probably invented the word.
Anyway, like the new .22?
"Like you need more weapons. Geez, you own what, two tactical nukes? A Russian submarine? Twenty tanks? Couple of howitzers? And about a billion other material altering weapons designed to do unspeakable things to all sorts of creatures."
One can never have enough weapons of not just target plinking tools but of those planet busting behemoths of gigantic proportions that are so fun to fondle just before altering a galaxy.
(sigh)
Enjoy the show parasite. The truth, no matter how it hurts, is still the truth. Those that bear false witness, especially when it involves the pocket book, well, it is... inspirational.
*
She believed in a God. But what God? The God of Abraham? The God of Mohammad?
Maybe she believed in the god or gods?
One God?
Or does she think God is actually many God's?
It does not matter what she thinks as what matters is what she swore and attested to that which caused ripples in the fabric of truth.
And to those who believe their lies go unnoticed... Nothing can ever hide from those that can hear, see, and smell such lies.
***
A long time ago, a beggar asked a rich man for food. The rich man brushed aside the beggar without even the courtesy of looking at the man. As his arm covered in the finery of a gentleman brushed past the beggar, he parted ways by saying, "I don't have time for this. Begone."
On the wall nearby, a small black spider was motionless watching the world pass by. This spider saw the comings and goings of those which frequented the road. It definitely saw and heard the actions between a beggar and a rich man.
This man was once a good man of standing before becoming a bedraggled man of the street. He once had a family and business. Hard work and prayer had got him through very hard times. It was good as it could be during the hard times the world was in.
One day, a very rich man told the King a lie regarding the man. This lie caused the King to seize the property of the man and cast his family into a new world of nothing but misery and death. His wife soon died along with his children. This very rich man was a very religious man and had once kissed the ring of the Pope himself.
Wealth can sometimes become the perfect passport of confidence for those possessing much. For the rich man, he lied to the King to gain favor and because the wife of the beggar once shunned his advances before she became the wife of the beggar.
As the rich man walked away from the beggar thinking thoughts of whatever it is rich, religious, liars think of. The spider saw and the legs of the spider caused vibrations to form on the web. No one saw the spider and if they did, they would not care.
Later that night, the beggar passed away and entered a new world. A world where he saw his wife and children 'alive' and well. Everything bad was forgotten. There would be no more memories of a planet filled with nothing but death and pain.
This same night, a piece of spiders web drifted into the bedroom of the rich man snoring peacefully in his bed. At his side, a beautiful naked woman was breathing softly and her skin glowed in the moonlight.
Such a small piece of web. It was fine as silk and smooth.
The web drifted towards the man and was inhaled during the moment of snoring. In the morning, the beautiful woman woke and looking towards her lover, screamed loudly.
Beside her lay the cold body of a man covered in sores oozing pus and lungs empty of air. And floating away in the air towards the window was the small strand of web, a web being watched miles away from a smiling spider named, Fred.
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
Sooooo much inspiration today, especially after last night. Man was that fun.
Anyway, China popped immediately into the mind as what is going to happen is amazing and horrific at the same time. Sorta like smelling toast in a pleasant way until the smoke from the flaming toaster lets the nose know the toast is now beyond redemption.
Soooooo
Soooooo
Soooooo...
"Knock that shit off. It's annoying."
Sooooo parasite, what should I dabble with now?
"I suggest you go buy a comic book, some chewing gum, and find a plastic blow up doll to molest>"
Good suggestion. Sounds like something a child would do, so therein is the inspiration. A children bedtime story. Writing stories for young minds is a great thing for many writers.
***
Once Upon a Time
Once upon a time, there lived a monster, but before we turn the pages, there also lived a little girl named, Susan.
Susan was a cute and adorable little lass. She just turned the big 5 and was having a great time with her pet cat, Micron and the new puppy of the house named, Hey Stop That!'
In the house, it was sunny and bright. Susan's parents were wonderful parents. Her dad would bring home little treasures everyday he came home from work. Her mother was a great mom and would bake Susan cookies and tell her great stories.
It was a good place where Susan lived. Clean. Pretty. Peaceful. A perfect place for any little girl or boy to grow up in.
One day Susan and her mother were walking down the street. It was a wonderful street. Green grass, trees, birds. And the day was sunny and warm. Suddenly, Susan spied a man who looked unhappy.
"Mother, why is that man sad?"
Her mother replied, "That man has no home or money."
"No home? Where does he live," Susan asked with concern in her voice.
"I don't know. I'm sure he has a nice place to stay. Everyone has a nice place to stay."
The two continued their pleasant walk but as they passed the homeless man, Susan saw the man's eyes squint and his upper lip raise to reveal razor sharp fangs.
"Oh!" Susan exclaimed.
"What's wrong?" her mother asked.
"I. I thought I saw the homeless man... He looked like a monster."
Turning back to look at the homeless man the mother saw the man look up from the bench he was sitting on and he smiled and as he smiled his mouth opened up to reveal the toothless, gummed look of a happy homeless man.
"It's okay Susan. He will do just fine." The the two resumed a most lovely day.
Little Susan was still as adorable as ever and she enjoyed the perfect place she lived.
Three days passed for Susan. She then learned that her dad was going to buy her an actual living pony. She was greatly excited and that night she had the most wonderful dreams. They were the best dreams she could ever remember
...
"Oh my God Tom. How could this happen?" The uniformed officer gagged and turned to vomit against the wall
"Shit! There is no way this can be." The partner stifled that gag reflex enough to talk into his radio, "We need child services...Shit!"
The once pretty scene. A scene filled with flowers, puppies, cats and cookies was now more of an illustration for an abstract art festival.
Red blood covered everything. On the floor in the living room, Susan's father was cut into pieces and some of those pieces were mixed with pieces of the puppy and cat. Even the families gold fish was in pieces.
Susan's mother was staked against the wall in the kitchen. There was a slice from the chin down to her private parts, allowing the entrails to hang down to the floor. In her mouth was a piece of either the puppy or cat.
Covered in blood Susan sat on the floor in the hallway. Her body rocked back and forth. In her hand a very sharp knife. She smiled and sang, "It's a wonderful world, it's a wonderful day!" It is very hard to believe that she would have been capable of killing everyone in her home.
"There is no way this little girl could do that....
Both of the policemen had gained their nerve back and Tom replied, "For sure. I mean the strength needed to lift her mom off the floor. Let alone, stake the body."
Tom's partner was just about to reply when his eyes glanced the intense stare of Susan. A stare where the adorable little girls eyes squinted and her upper lip raised to reveal razor sharp teeth.
***
"I love ya man. I mean that is the BEST damn children story I've ever read!"
Like it huh?
"You bet. Though you could have made it a little bit more gory."
No parasite, the true nature of humanity is already gory enough. Gory. Good word, gory.
Anyway, China popped immediately into the mind as what is going to happen is amazing and horrific at the same time. Sorta like smelling toast in a pleasant way until the smoke from the flaming toaster lets the nose know the toast is now beyond redemption.
Soooooo
Soooooo
Soooooo...
"Knock that shit off. It's annoying."
Sooooo parasite, what should I dabble with now?
"I suggest you go buy a comic book, some chewing gum, and find a plastic blow up doll to molest>"
Good suggestion. Sounds like something a child would do, so therein is the inspiration. A children bedtime story. Writing stories for young minds is a great thing for many writers.
***
Once Upon a Time
Once upon a time, there lived a monster, but before we turn the pages, there also lived a little girl named, Susan.
Susan was a cute and adorable little lass. She just turned the big 5 and was having a great time with her pet cat, Micron and the new puppy of the house named, Hey Stop That!'
In the house, it was sunny and bright. Susan's parents were wonderful parents. Her dad would bring home little treasures everyday he came home from work. Her mother was a great mom and would bake Susan cookies and tell her great stories.
It was a good place where Susan lived. Clean. Pretty. Peaceful. A perfect place for any little girl or boy to grow up in.
One day Susan and her mother were walking down the street. It was a wonderful street. Green grass, trees, birds. And the day was sunny and warm. Suddenly, Susan spied a man who looked unhappy.
"Mother, why is that man sad?"
Her mother replied, "That man has no home or money."
"No home? Where does he live," Susan asked with concern in her voice.
"I don't know. I'm sure he has a nice place to stay. Everyone has a nice place to stay."
The two continued their pleasant walk but as they passed the homeless man, Susan saw the man's eyes squint and his upper lip raise to reveal razor sharp fangs.
"Oh!" Susan exclaimed.
"What's wrong?" her mother asked.
"I. I thought I saw the homeless man... He looked like a monster."
Turning back to look at the homeless man the mother saw the man look up from the bench he was sitting on and he smiled and as he smiled his mouth opened up to reveal the toothless, gummed look of a happy homeless man.
"It's okay Susan. He will do just fine." The the two resumed a most lovely day.
Little Susan was still as adorable as ever and she enjoyed the perfect place she lived.
Three days passed for Susan. She then learned that her dad was going to buy her an actual living pony. She was greatly excited and that night she had the most wonderful dreams. They were the best dreams she could ever remember
...
"Oh my God Tom. How could this happen?" The uniformed officer gagged and turned to vomit against the wall
"Shit! There is no way this can be." The partner stifled that gag reflex enough to talk into his radio, "We need child services...Shit!"
The once pretty scene. A scene filled with flowers, puppies, cats and cookies was now more of an illustration for an abstract art festival.
Red blood covered everything. On the floor in the living room, Susan's father was cut into pieces and some of those pieces were mixed with pieces of the puppy and cat. Even the families gold fish was in pieces.
Susan's mother was staked against the wall in the kitchen. There was a slice from the chin down to her private parts, allowing the entrails to hang down to the floor. In her mouth was a piece of either the puppy or cat.
Covered in blood Susan sat on the floor in the hallway. Her body rocked back and forth. In her hand a very sharp knife. She smiled and sang, "It's a wonderful world, it's a wonderful day!" It is very hard to believe that she would have been capable of killing everyone in her home.
"There is no way this little girl could do that....
Both of the policemen had gained their nerve back and Tom replied, "For sure. I mean the strength needed to lift her mom off the floor. Let alone, stake the body."
Tom's partner was just about to reply when his eyes glanced the intense stare of Susan. A stare where the adorable little girls eyes squinted and her upper lip raised to reveal razor sharp teeth.
***
"I love ya man. I mean that is the BEST damn children story I've ever read!"
Like it huh?
"You bet. Though you could have made it a little bit more gory."
No parasite, the true nature of humanity is already gory enough. Gory. Good word, gory.
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
Okay parasite, word of the day is, provocateur. You got five seconds to write something inspired by the word.
"What, you want me to..."
Four, three, two, one...
"Okay, whatever floats your boat. Here it goes."
***
Climate Change
Greta Thunberg was playing a game of, burn-your-neighbors-house-down, in her small village of Gooberstein. She soon tired of burning down her neighbors homes as she noticed it increased the carbon foot print, mainly in the form of large ash piles.
Greta turned her attention to the Swedish Parliament where she voiced her strong dissatisfaction with how the world was on fire and causing large ash piles to form.
She yelled a lot and her face became really contorted and she looked like she had swallowed a bee. She tried being a happy peaceful young lady but that greatly bored her so she kept up with the facial contortions and poking politicians until they surrendered and gave her monetary donations.
One day Greta thought is would be wonderful to use the money for the best thing she could think of. So, she resumed playing the game of, burn-your-neighbors-house-down, and soon, the whole world was on fire.
The end.
***
Actually parasite, I'm sure you provoked some people. It was definitely predictable and boring.
"Can I go play in the snow now?"
Sure.
"What, you want me to..."
Four, three, two, one...
"Okay, whatever floats your boat. Here it goes."
***
Climate Change
Greta Thunberg was playing a game of, burn-your-neighbors-house-down, in her small village of Gooberstein. She soon tired of burning down her neighbors homes as she noticed it increased the carbon foot print, mainly in the form of large ash piles.
Greta turned her attention to the Swedish Parliament where she voiced her strong dissatisfaction with how the world was on fire and causing large ash piles to form.
She yelled a lot and her face became really contorted and she looked like she had swallowed a bee. She tried being a happy peaceful young lady but that greatly bored her so she kept up with the facial contortions and poking politicians until they surrendered and gave her monetary donations.
One day Greta thought is would be wonderful to use the money for the best thing she could think of. So, she resumed playing the game of, burn-your-neighbors-house-down, and soon, the whole world was on fire.
The end.
***
Actually parasite, I'm sure you provoked some people. It was definitely predictable and boring.
"Can I go play in the snow now?"
Sure.