Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]

[Lipinski]

Iceland.
What a wonderful place.
Deep below in a lair
merged with molten core
.
Soothing bones, fueling the stimulation
waking up
and finding her there.

[Lipinski]

When Evil is involved in brokering peace the absurdity is passed upon the natural world where spiders are eaten by their prey and loving mothers kill their children in the womb.

God has a loving hand, a firm hand, a hand unlike any other hand.

Among the moon people there are those who hold the Hand of God just as there are those who act like there is no God held above the troubled waters by the Hand.

Son and daughters test their mother and fathers hands. "No cookie! I did not take a cookie!" Said by very serious faces of the young. Mothers and Fathers test the God's Hand. Wonderful when young and old realize it is themselves that they test as God smiles as they nibble on their choices.

In history there comes those who alter or change the words/narrative. There is the story of fallen Angels, of Lucifer, of the father of the moon... Assyrians attacked Jerus e lum (picture now the doves flying free of a hawks clutch) 185,000 died in one night. Evil would have you believe it was rodents full of disease, that it was natural, and IF God was involved, it only 'proved' God was cruel. So the question, is death cruel? Did those 185,000 soldiers fall from God's Hand or instead, be embraced by the Hand?

Death as humans believe the whispers of evils heart, is cruel and horrible. Evil promises annihilation and pain whereas with God there has never been death given.

"What the fuck? I personally could care less what kind of shit you're sputtering now but come on, God is... (thud)"

What's that parasite? Didn't like what you found inside?

"You're not going to are you?"

Yes. The Jews who were killed in the passive line of Nazi cruelty felt and know the love of God just as the warriors of Islam are now learning the hate and despair of Evils intentions for the puppets of hate.

185,000 Assyrians are but a blip.

And for a man in Turkey keeping track of the movements of time, Koreesh. Tomu sinlou

[Lipinski]

Something regarding poetry. A poem. Poetry is a language put to message a beating heart.
***

A Storm

Calm in manner the swaying bow of a tree
Reverent in standing clothed in lightning
Roots washed clean
Leaves shed to feed a hungry wind
A bird huddled in crook, shuddering in disagreement
And after?
A field of natural manners being replaced with the demeanor of peace.

[Lipinski]

Hey parasite.

(there was no answer as the purple blob of inspiration was busy. it discovered a new hair growing on the forehead)

I said, hey parasite!

"Wuh, uh, wow. Can you see this?" The parasite was pointing to a very large strand of red hair boiling out of the small blob of a purple head.

What? That little strand of hair?

"Yeah. What the fuck? I don't have any body hair."

Hah! Maybe you're entering writers parasite puberty? Maybe you'll now grow a set of balls or some fun jugs.

"Yeah, and maybe I'm going to shit in your ice cream bowl later."

Now now parasite. All fun. All good. And seriously, that red hair is an improvement from being a purple blob.

"You think so?" The parasite looked at itself in the mirror. A mirror that screamed in horror and shattered.

Yeah. If it grows any longer you can lower it out the window and hope a prince/princess climbs up and offers you pizza.

"Really!" The parasite rarely gets too excited but mention pizza, chocolate, or dolphins and it gets giddy. The parasite was impressed and asked, "So, where's the bag of miracle grow? I gotta get this thing growing."

Try some of the Thai Chili sauce, Oh, and rub the hair with some grizzly snot. Grizzly snot does wonders.

"Thanks."

[Lipinski]

Ha! Another hair parasite, only this strand is pure white. Have you been in Hunter Biden's stash again?

The parasite was wearing an amused expression and replied, "Little do you know, I'll have you know that the white hair and red hair talk to each other."

Oh reallllly. Do tell parasite, what do they talk about?

"Not much. Words sounds like gibberish but they do have the soothing feeling of music."

Let me hear... (bending down, the foul stench of being near the purple blob manifested itself with the eyes instantly watering) Damn...Parasite... Don't you ever bathe?

"Nah, but you already knew that. Seriously, they are talking now, listen.."

Sargin. Sargin. Sargin. (inaudible) Sargin. Sargin. Sargin.

Sounds like they are talking about sardines.

"No they aren't numbnuts, and you know that too."

Ice Cream. Yeah. Lets talk about ice cream.

[Lipinski]

China is wonderful in culture and people. Large and rich in tradition and place in time(s)
The current God hating government is not so different than those other God hating countries claiming the various titles of, Democracy, Communism, Socialism, Tribal, Feudal, Royal, or whatever title whatever or whomever, and now, a message from today's sponsor:

"Do you suffer from hunger cravings? Do you wake up in the middle of the night drooling in anticipation of a feast? Well, satisfy those cravings by taking flight and obliterating a fifty head herd of elk. Swoop down the canyon with wild abandonment and consume to your hearts delight. Act now and we'll throw in some forest elves deemed unworthy."

***

"They grew some more today."

Your hair?

"Yeah, and now they are speaking Chinese."

Seems normal parasite. Say, next time you talk to them ask why the stores in the U.S. don't sell Chinese cheese or yogurt.

"You ask them."

Okay. (bending down there was the refreshing smell of lavender replacing the stench of yesterday) Okay hair, what's up with China.

"Moo! Moo! (burp)"

Just as I thought parasite. Say, lets go hunting elk tonight. Been building up a huuuuuuge appetite.

"Naw, I'm taking the hair swimming. They've been bugging me to take them to the fountain of youth."

The fountain is over rated. Take them swimming in one of those renovated kiddy pools in Atlantis.

"Maybe next time, they are insisting."

Have fun.

"Happy hunting, I hope an elk kicks you in the balls."

Me too.

[Lipinski]

In an attack the kinetic energy is easy to displace and absorb with negative energy. Kinetic weapons therefore are easy to predict and adjust in the acceptance or rejection.

In a mind the kinetic can destroy biological materials thus altering perceptions to include life being played back in a loop of time.

"Blah, de blah blah blah. Where's the new Swedish chocolate bars? I've got hair to feed now. Plus I'm famished."

Look in the cabinet, but only a small piece.

SNAP! (place a mouse trap in the cabinet, the kinetic energy released totally got the results of prediction and acceptance of mirth on my part)

"Asshole! Just for that I'm...What kind of chocolate is this? It's green? Who makes green chocolate?"

Green is the new dark. Just eat it and shut up.

Anyway, kinetic attacks are mundane and necessary for developing intelligence. Now in phys ops; mental. Psychic attacks have various levels. To keep it simple, a Class One attack completely destroys and entire Universe with just a thought. A Class One takes place daily, and one day this planet will witness such an event and survive...

A Class Two is an attack that disrupts the physical and what you call, supernatural. Not fun for those not prepared. Take today for example, it was tried, it was tested, and of course, it succeeded by it's choice of failure.

Class Three is reserved for higher intelligence and does not work on biological species lacking REM sleep dreams.

Class Four. Class four is a favorite of mine. Children are a paradox in that they are immune from such attacks while at the same time, very susceptible ( it must be noted that because of this paradox it prepares them for the higher levels)

Anyway. This is mentioned because lately Agent Barton has been dabbling with things they should not be dabbling with. Sorta like the parasite being lulled into eating green chocolate which is actually rat poison.

"Tastes great! I can feel my heart beating and look, another hair. A yellow strand, and it is singing opera!"

That's nice parasite. Very nice.

[Lipinski]

Whee! (or is it whoopee?)

Hey parasite?

(a lull. a moment to think...Whee!)

Hey parasite!

"Wuh? Huh? What?"

Are you sleeping?

"No. Uh. Maybe? Last night was...wow...it was..."

Enlightening?

"What happened?"

You happened parasite. Your purple blob now has red, white, and yellow hair... Are you ready for your fourth and last hair? A black strand?

"Fuck. Whatever. Do we have any more green chocolate?"

Help yourself. Inside you now have the Circle of Life. How you choose to use it is totally up to you.
***

It is easy to be consumed by the logic of necessity
Pandering to the illogical.

Can you,
and i mean you,
understand?

i saw you born; birthed in what swims inside
squalling like the storms of tomorrow

What can be said?
A Sun
A Moon
A yesterday
and now Ziggea, a perfect king of the Elves.

i say, "hooray!"
for in tomorrow a rider sees an inner peace

[Lipinski]

To ponder thought
the mind of a snake...

Rise then to taste
the fruit of existence.

Hot day in a hot way.
Working among rafting guides both young men and young women
Ignorant bodies with hopeful minds
Estrogen on full display to color shade the insecure bravado of testosterone.

To see eyes glazed by weed and then see a lone woman looking again at a pregnancy strip
"Good work."
"Thanks."
"A troll lives under the porch."
"How long before the building slides into the river."
"I'm hungry."

Building and watching for almost 14 hours and thinking it must be nice for them today
as tomorrow they grow old and bitter
full of pain and sorrow
It is this worlds way.

[Lipinski]

Hiroshima
Nagasaki
Why?

Let the flames explain.

In example there is illustration'; instruction0'; history to be burned into the brain

A forest mushroom full of beautiful and poison whereas in tormented steel and concrete the radiation drains.

Does the thoughts of accidents in a human mind really really realize the folly of their chances?

To play with fire after they discovered the ability of matches?
~
~
`

A parent takes away the magnifying lens when spotting their child starting fires instead of studying the small world beneath them, so too do those with ships of glass and vibrations.

There are buttons and computer programs
Artificial guidance from artificial intelligence
Still...
So very still now while Iran strikes flint with its shields and horses ney in paddock and field

Meanwhile...In a dark and smoky room. Far away in core and moon, another species advances.
Tweaking and twisting and turning and pushing
(just as they always try, and most importantly, fail)

Fire is good as it cleanses
In transformation of actions
Only goodness will remain.

[Lipinski]

With a movie and popcorn
Waiting
Waiting
Waiting
.
.
.
the music begins...
.
.
. Ominous
Gripping.
.hhhjm.
(don't blink)
.
.
.
And then, taking wing
soaring
Soaring so fucking high the fear trembles and refuses to fly
Leaving you with a smile as you spread your wings
and soar.

[Lipinski]

Just an example:
Last night you saw but a simple dream.

Squeezing the blackhead it became the girth of a pencil and 20 cm long
Black on the end with a round smoothness
Cold
Inanimate
until...
Sprouting, growing, the cillia exposed; twirling in an aggressive speed.
Showing father, the creature flew and escaped, burrowing into the earth to do horrible things.

And when the invaders imposed 'peace'
To view the oceans tidal chanages (alteration of a moon to either destroy or impact global change)
Dead salmon washed upon the beach, feeding the eels young. Voracious. Tenacious. Dangerous. Diseased.

They could not stop me though, or catch what cannot be caught.
The ships are coming
They will be destroyed
Preparing a world for change.

[Lipinski]

He was a sea serpent named Tony
Sported a bowl hat with a cane
Took the form of a rat and boarded a ship; watched Charlie Chaplin walk and said,
"I can do the same."

The mermaids were not impressed
The sirens still continued their damn screams
Not one was impressed,
well,
there was one, a sea turtle named, Abby McGee.

"What a dandy yee be. What with your prance and your smile!"
And then she swam away.

Tony was happy, dancing and twisting away the days
until as a bird he spied a girl in a bikini...
And lets just say,
Tony's scales sure glimmer in the sunlight but he looks lousy in a G string.

[Lipinski]

What a fuycking wurd dag!
Sisters a fighting
Joey of dying
n now corgi's licking and barking
Yup, defnightly a fuycking wurd dag.

[Lipinski]

Ahh yes,,,
44
4=4
4+4
8 eighty 8a or it there more?

You see when the mind explodes taking pieces of art along with numbers
it always adds
up.

[Lipinski]

and now 55!
What a game!
Hooray and hoorah.

"What's your age little boy?"

"Ten?"

"I see. Can you feel able to tend to the wounded?"

"Aye sir, that I can be."
*

Flat off it must be said the merriment is made
Squeezed plump bits of sun kissed nectar
Grapes as big as ya please.

Wee bit of lass with their dresses of sweetest fiber
Dancing harvest of wines wet for lips
And their laughter?

Ha!

To sit here and remember the times of before
and after

Even now an Owl sits with a smile only an elf can see
while a bridge troll makes another pot of perfection, a tea, a disguise to hide,
such a wonderful vintage
to taste the work of their feet.

[Lipinski]

66!
Yes!
Keep going!
and...

"What now numby nutso? And could you help me braid all this fucking hair?"

Hair driving ya nuts parasite?

"What do you think? One color sings opera, two mutter some fucked up gibberish, and the black hair? Wow, almost makes me want to cry.


You can't cry parasite. You can jiggle though. But on a serious note, are you feeling the change?

(the parasite has been around the block many times, it knew when serious is serious and fantasy is fantasy. today it was fantasticly serious)

Fantasitcly is not a word. Or is it?

What words are and what they are are fantasticly different:

Milron

Tor'mock

Si si si ;a loosh

Words from a mad mad mad man
*
Hello world, can you see the horizon? That place where when you look in earnest anticipation you can almost see tomorrow?

Did your day weigh you down with the mundane fat of worry where the sweat of brow tastes bitter?

Tonight another hunt far above the dens of snake or beast
To tickle the stars just to hear them laugh
With good aim of thought and dream, to smell another good memory after memory after memory until the horizon becomes another morning where the hunter can once again brag and promise never to surrender.

[Lipinski]

When you write something, anything from a poem to a fully detailed manuscript, the value of words is weighed and measured by the reader to either have value or be worthless.

To say a young girl sits at the beach crying from a recent sexual abuse assault by a relative is powerful, that is because it is not only words of truth but also a voice given to a situation and thus made public to allow judgement and either acceptance or condemnation.

Read the Quran, go ahead, try it. What does your mind reveal?
Read the Bible. go ahead. try it. What does your mind reveal?

Now read this: As a child Jesus took 12 handfuls of mud and when he was done in his playful endeavor, twelve swallows flew away.

A book full of words start with an opening sentence and end with a period.
A really good book starts without words and never ends.

Many humans strive to be writers or at least learn how to read the words from others.
Humans are not the only entities striving to be writers or at least learn how to read the words from others.

Many books have been valued highly for how 'well' they were written, how the plot was genius. Words such as, wonderful, excellent, brilliant.

Many books have been banned or burned.

There are those books written which may seem simple and easy to read only to learn there are many layers to the words. Layers upon layers reaching down deep until the species reading the words will come to the point of saying, "I cannot understand anymore."

Thus, today's inspiration.
***

Wind whispering through the pines, carrying a breeze to bring into play the sounds of pollen, the irritation of beetles, the smell of a season.

Winding from a spiraling Spring

Held out and aloft whereas the lines coursing full of rich blood; hemoglobin once held in an hour glass of a long lost King.

Can you feel the touch of wind? Yes? Now can you capture?

If you could place wind into a jar and tighten the lid then how would you know the wind has stopped moving?

It is good then to live with the peace and knowledge of not being the wind held prisoner inside the jar of a simple child,
no,
it is good to be one and live inside the Wind.

[Lipinski]

Writers can turn to personal knowledge or experience when writing. Ha, it almost has to be this way as imagine a robot writing about getting a blow job: "My circuits are tingling. Ah yes. There it is, there it is, ahhh..." (and sparks shoot out of the keyboard." Not gonna happen.

So, here's an angle you might not have thought of. A child. A youngun. A tiny man or woman.

Adults call children children because they forgot what it is to be a child.

"Are you fucking with peoples minds again? And where did you put the shears? I gotta trim this hair mess."

No. And no. No trimming ever for you parasite.

'Adults' say children have vivid imagination. They say children play 'make believe'. Again, most adults forget what it was to be when they wore the clothing of a child.

And so to the adults, maybe the following will help you remember.
***

She was a pretty young lady. Growing up on a farm where she rode horses and tormented her brothers.

Even at a young age she knew how to get her views across to those not in agreement.

"Eat your peas please." Said an exasperated mother

(No words as her actions of rejecting the spoon brimming with peas spoke for itself.)

She played with toys. Toys of boys. Toys of girls. And one of the toys was a stuffed piece(s) of fabric.

There was an evening where she was extremely tired. It had been a hard day of chores and play. Her mother ensured that she at least wash her face before bed, a time she wanted dearly to resist.

Between the battle of mother and daughter the young lady talked to her friend of fabric. To anyone else it appeared to be a child talking to a doll or toy or indulging in the realm of make-believe imagination.

Only you were not there to see the item speak in a sweet low musical voice. You were not there to see what some call, angel.

The two 'played' and though she forgets exactly the moment she fell into a deep sleep. Deep inside she knows she remembers.

[Lipinski]

My, you're looking a mess parasite. A giant purple blob of hair.

"Fuck you fucker. You fucky fuck fuck fucker."

Want me to help you?

Turning to run away the parasite fell on the hair and was quickly caught while the parasite kept muttering, "Fucky fucker fuck..."

Is that better parasite?

"Hey, what did you do? Did you use knots learned in the Boy Scouts?"

Nope. Called, braiding. Now you look presentable

The parasite was please. The braid was long and colored red, white, yellow and black. "Yeah. It will work. Thanks."

Now go away parasite, I got some inspiration.

***
Chisum Trails
Written by: A survivor

It is said his mother was a three-legged wolf, a white wolf with red eyes and pearly white fangs. Said that his pa was an ancient grizzly bear. No matter his lineage as rumors holds no sway to the truth, and that being Paul A. Gabriel was indeed a real man.

In the territories that would become known as the Kansas Indian Territory was a man who once had been a wild child found in the woods by a Jesuit priest.

1801 was a year where to be found by a priest was also the year it was possible the parents of the boy were wild beasts.

The priest tamed the boy. Taught the boy. Gave the boy a name. And when the boy turned into age considered to be fourteen, he escaped and returned to the wilds. He thrived back in his natural element.

Stalking prey. Singing tunes the priest taught him. Fishing. Pondering. Then there came the day he came across a beautiful Sioux girl out picking flowers. The priest had not prepared him for what he felt inside. The animal friends of course had taught him why he felt.

Courtship between a man and woman is different in all cultures, needless to say, Paul was joined with a young girl named, Wahca-hanwi. (flower of the moon)

The two settled and they learned how to deal with old cultures and new. Everyday a new white settler from the East world would show up or pass through in search of a new home.

As time went by Paul ended up being an extension of the new white laws flowing westward. The government had even given him a horse, a pistol, and a badge. It was his job to keep peace on a frontier as wild as wild can be.

There is a lot more to this story. A story you can add/fill/subtract as to how he became the law. Of how he used what he learned from a priest, the Sioux, and his wild wilderness world. For this next part though, rest assured he was indeed a God fearing Spirit loving, Awe inspiring man of the Law.

Paul killed many bad people just as he killed many bad beasts. It could be said too that he killed many bad spirits…

Paul and Wahca-hanwi lived a good life though. The were both happy, they both did the best they could do with what they had.

Sounds peaceful don’t it? Happiness. Love. Law. Strength. God. Wild animals. God. Demons…

There came a night, a warm Summer night where the sky erupted in flame. Trees in a thick grove high up on a mountain, ignited in flame.

Paul’s horse was killed by the intense heat. Everything seemed to be burning. Paul turned to his screaming wife and saw long thin arms colored gray, grab and tear the woman’s head off.

The last thing Paul remembered was his skin was on fire and he died.

*

Paul died. Burnt to a crisp. Even his bones crumbled. Yet, Paul woke up.

Looking down at himself he was dressed as before the fire. He felt good. No pain. No burns. And yes, no home, wife, horse and anything he could recognize.

Around him existed foliage he was not familiar with. Strange birds flew by with strange wings and sounds.

Turning around to see what was causing the sounds coming up behind him he saw a creature looking exactly like the one who ripped his wife’s head off. Instinctively he reached for his pistol, which was hanging where it was supposed to be.

“Bang!” With one shot he killed the creature and as the creature fell, he saw a white cloud depart the aliens body.

Inside Paul, he felt something powerful, something good. He knew now what his new job was to be. He was to hunt down and kill each and every gray long armed alien and kill them…

Who says God does not have a sense of humor?

[Lipinski]

'I wish Hitler was still here': Anti-Israel protestor shouts at Nova massacre memorial
The unidentified man pointed his hand at the crowd of people surrounding him while yelling, "I wish Hitler was still here. He would have wiped you all out."
Jerusalem Post


Simple inspiration: The man they say is 'unidentified' actually has identity. He see's Hitler in the mirror. So his wish came true.

Which leads to the old saying, 'Be careful for what you wish for.'

But
But
But

It is not a wish to say, God is here. That statement is fact.

And as such, some inspiration for a beautiful day.

"Did you actually take a shower?" The fur ball known as the parasite was snapping its braid of hair at Thor to which Thor grabbed the hair and played tug of war. "Hey! Ouch! Give me that back!"
***

So many men and women delve in the practice of evil
Cutting off heads of others to prove a point.
Caning and beating humans of different thoughts as if they were sheep they could control

Not a poem?
Not inspiring?
Nothing to gain but angst and hitting close to home?

To practice peace is impossible as peace is not an art
Peace
Love
Joy
These are not skills coming from humans
They are a gift from God's open Heart.

***

Okay Thor. Good boy. Let the parasite alone now. You don't want to get a fur ball in your stomach

"Woof!"

[Lipinski]

Evening parasite, you're looking dapper tonight.

"I know, right? Who would have thought the Circle of Life wou8ld fit so well," and with that said the parasite idly twirled the very long braid.

It's been an interesting experiment indeed. Did you hear the sun a few minutes ago?

"Of course, the whole world heard it."

Maybe not all have heard it yet, but they will.

"Does it really have to happen? Isn't there a chance another reaction cou8ld occur?"

Can't you feel it burning the palm? The heat is intense, the vibrations beyond anything beyond blocking. So, yes, it does have to happen.

They had a chance today, a last chance and they chose what they had to choose.

"Damn...Too bad, but, maybe..."

Nope, no maybe, it is the will of and the need for which speaks volumes. They crave blood and so blood will flow to fill the need.

"Will there still be ice cream?"

Of course parasite. There will always be pizza and ice cream for creatures like you and me.

"Good."
***

It is hard to explain the feelings, a feeling of hope/joy/and the memory of Eden
With the hardness though comes the truth of weakness and the lies of strength
Buried along with a name so long ago it now seems like tomorrow, a tomorrow where what was really wanted and needed is now but fodder for swine.

Hoorah and hooray for the skeletons now to be the custodians of the key
Hooray and hoorah for the lock once kept so secure and hidden there could never be chance to be seen

it burns now
it burns intense
so hot not even the tears of my Master can extinguish
and yet,
even now,
it still is good
it still is my only friend.

[Lipinski]

A Carpenters Trade

Written by: A chisel

As a Marine Sgt. Etling carved notches above his bedroom door frame,
each night another conquest
each night he scored,
with condoms and pills, a mothers womb to remain bare.

The father Joseph carved with a mallet the grain of wood to form
a bench
frame
chair,
providing a life for God's child and mother.

Rome carved up nations with roads from here to no where
and then they carved the people
until in the chips and debris they fell,
along with their gods chiseled from stone.

A sharp blade of steel, sharp enough to cut through flesh, wood, the soul
Look at those who carved the wood of a Cross to carry the son of a carpenter,
the chisel performed,

Chisels now trying to be replaced with scalpels, bombs, chainsaws, swords...
Fathers now even to be replaced with lust and scorn
And even though through all the manipulation of steel in sharpened form
words still have the most power to form
to create and destroy
the direction of the hammer and chisel
with my choice of the Handler to be the Father
of heaven and earth.

[Lipinski]

Hunkered down behind the steering wheel of a 1957 Edsel
For A.I. they steer whatever comes to mind
With a horse and carriage the shit decides.

He drove with a purpose.
Intent.
Focused.

What happens to the time?
Spending moment after moment before choosing moment number 12
Merriline choosing before her transformation...

Meanwhile, afterwards, choosing to be beautiful
A transformation where a man hunkered down behind the steering wheel
Swerves to miss a baby deer.

[Lipinski]

A rift
A split
Like a vagina torn in two.

Look to the horn young man, the horn
and then decide...

In a cave
or in a temple
where with thought or two, a cricket decides.

Understand?
The understand the momentum
The thoughts accrued,

What happens when the beach recedes after all that excitement?
What occurs before you decide?
What then with all these fucked up questions?

Smash the moon.
Obliterate the stars.
Ugliness in mankind is but a blur, a mistake, a correction in the making,
prolonging Life.

[Lipinski]

Atlas Shrugged
Written by: Ayn Rand

A good book to be sure. A mystery. A man.
***

Rest assured in the dream world of mass matter reduction,
therein lays a question...

What if?

What if...
Boom?

This can never be as energy and material do indeed,
sit together
and plan.

[Lipinski]

"You're fucking weird man."

Whatever dude, you're a fucking giant ball of hair.

"Yeah? Well...Uh...fuck it. I am a giant ball of hair." The parasite was truly indeed a wonderful specimen of elongated hair follicles. Red, white, black and yellow (and a tint of grey)

So whata ya want to write about now?

"Your obituary? Maybe a mug shot of you as you get arrested and booked for stealing ladies underwear?

Stealing undies is perfectly legal, you can only be arrested now for protesting abortions.

"How about writing something about the virtues of mankind?"

Easy peasy.
***

No matter his faith and convictions of a God
No sway holds fast as a beautiful naked body parades the view

If pain can be subdued or numbed it still means nothing
If wealth and prosperity of gain and family is less than a breeze

What really is the truth of the virtues of mankind is,
there are none.

[Lipinski]

And now a story of.
Of which is something of a memory.

Strange how in freedom of being one of peace and one of anger there comes energies.

Prologue: In story there is a player named, God. In the story the cards of God held true a Man of peace; Jesus.
There are many cards in the deck. Of course there is the table. There is a card in the deck you are not familiar with. This card is a Warrior. A Warrior unlike any you've heard of or seen. Not an angel. Not a god. Nothing more than an important card in a deck of Cards shuffled by God.

In the wind soars winged
Beneath a Sun(s) surrender
There is no fear needed
Victory itself,
trembles

***

She was an Israeli soldier. On duty in a guard tower boarding a town near the coming storm of chaos. She and her fellow soldiers found comfort in each other. Trained. Dedicated. And they were defeated. She was raped and killed. Her comrades tortured and killed. Their sorrow heard by God.

He was a German soldier. A part of Panzer division spearheading the invasion of France only to be crushed a few years later by advancing Russian tanks in the last days of Germans war. As he lay there being destroyed, he was surround by his comrades. Tired. Weakened. Dying. Their sorrow heard by God.

Citizens of war brutally killed by war with war in command. Bodies broken. Fellowship of anguish, pain and fear. Their sorrow heard by God.

Through the span of time given many names. Names such as eon, decades, millennium. It seems like an eternity. Warriors all, civilians all; societies embraced by each other under the battle banners of peace and hate.

So much lamentations, sorrow, sadness, anger, hate.

"WHY!" The cry. A cry heard by God as the cards were shuffled.

On Earth
On Planets with names given number far past the number of sand grains at a beach
A common theme.

Species. Beings. Humans. They share the common bond of loneliness as they die a mortal bleed. Yet, surrounded by death. Their sorrow heard by God.

Male. Female. Child. (and forms of Life beyond human belief) shares a bond more than DNA. A spirit. A soul. A connection to their Creator.

It is this way across many galaxies and the many Universes God oversees.

Those in battle find themselves finding something more than they could ever dream. So much pain. So much death. Their sorrow heard by God.

Demons play their roles well as do Angels. They are the box holding God's cards.

If you spare your mind and look down on the floor tonight in your dreams you will see a card God always holds up deep inside a sleeve.

Not the joker nor the ace of spades. This card has no numbers, no diamonds, hearts, clubs, spades. You may think you're looking at a spiraling tornado of a very powerful breeze ripping leaves off the tree of Life.

All those words given by those dying in the battle of Life and death are heard and are answered.

The Warrior has no friends and needs none. The Warrior has no enemies and needs none. The Warrior cannot experience pain nor death. Those who encounter the Warrior have absolutely no defense.

A destroyer of any and all as given by the fluttering code of falling from the table to the floor. Much like a housekeeper sweeping up dust.

Listen? Can you hear it? You cannot yet see the Warrior card while you are reading this, but you will now see it in your sleep.

Smile though. Feel no fear for there are the other cards, the Card of Jesus, Love, and Peace.

The Warrior card will now rise from the floor with sounds so loud; Winds spiraling out-of-control. You will be tempted by fear and if evil you will be destroyed, so smile. Smile sincerely. Laugh with your friends. Many will whisper to God not the words of sorrow, rather the words of thanks...

[Lipinski]

"You're a goofy bastard for sure."

Why is that so parasite?

"I mean, why the fuck did you sprinkle potato chip crumbs on top of Thor and Sobo?"

Wrong question parasite, you should congratulate me for enhancing the Corgi's day.

"No. You should really, really, and seriously; really, really seek mental help."

So...What you're really saying is that you want me to sprinkle potato chip crumbs on you?

"Uh. Well. Yeah. Don't waste chips on dogs."

Okay. Whatever. Now though the inspiration of the falling stars over rode everything today.

"Later. You go ahead and jump into the looney pool."
***

13 stars constantly falling
Fast.
In time.
Keeping pace with each other.

They fall at the correct angle, never changing, never slowing, never speeding up.

Today there are 13 Universes falling, disguised as falling stars.

Hard to explain though after last nights shuffle of the cards
Hard for any Earth astronomer to even start
but there they are falling
13 stars.

[Lipinski]

That moon seems a bit arrogant tonight so a poem needs to be written. I called, Redneck Passion.
***

Sitting and sippin
Suds, gotta love the sound and smell poppin
Keystone Light by the gallon

Sitting and sippin and humming
Pickin and flickin boogers at the Moon
Say what?

"Get another six pack, and sum pretzels."
Bring me my gittar
and has anyone seen my fuckin horse?