Tween narrow and wide crack…
Weave and duck…
Whee!
(splash)
Who Gives Women Rights?
God?
Man?
Women?
A squirrel?
For that matter who gives men rights?
Who or what gives humans any rights at all?
“My body my right!” A mantra, a thought, an expression given by delusional species thinking they are ‘something’.
A maggot gorges in the festering putrid meat, growing fat from what was to what is now what will be. Feasting and growing fat and then when full attaining the body of a fly able to fly free and lay eggs on more rotting meat.
“I’m stronger than you and can kill you.” Bravado of the conquering man. Raping and plundering his way until he falls and the maggots feast.
Rights?
Strength?
Power?
In mankind’s acceptance of itself as a power unto itself, their minds are in full agreement and harmony with the mind of a maggot.
When mankind realizes it has no rights at all. None. That it has only the gift of life bestowed upon it, and with such knowledge gives thanks for this gift, only then will Life be the answer to all the questions.
very good God. Very well played.
And Since…
Today was a fun day for those involved in politics. It was fun for those in support of the moment and also for those not in support.
Humans are starting to bore more and more and more so,
to add to the confusion, some clarity (insert a whole lot of topics and profanity)
it is here and burrowing more and more and more into the collective consciousness.
To whit, a hearty “Fuck you, ” to all the agent Barton’s of the world, human and otherwise. Definitely a wholesome and with great gusto, “Fuck you,” to that which has tried to make what cannot be made miserable, annoyed… As for the humans, now is the alignment of moments to make your last chance choice between what is and what is not.
Worlds in conflict. Worlds seeking alliance. Worlds not of what is needed.
Therefore, some peace now.
Let There Be Light
Written by: god
Humans.
A White Ring
Written by: A Porcelain Goddess
Take heart the feeling
Gut turning; gurgle and sweat
A feeling
Sensation stabbing the goose bumps rising
one
by
one…
Yearning for the touch of flesh upon seated bliss
A relief as the love is embraced,
…
and then with a wipe there comes the flush
To serve as a commode and find satisfaction of giving relief
A toilet bowl in a shitty world bring smiles to so many a face.
There it was…
Just a huvering buv the pig pen. All shiny like. Spinning round like Unckle Bob’s head efter drinkini some kick ass shine!
Lord amighty… Done scart the shit right out dem hogs. Squilling n squalling.
Anyways, a beem a light shot out da bottum of that ther spinny thing. Done took me up ta heaven.
We had a fun time we did. Dem little green fella’s were intimtate with my ass and we drank shine.
Whee Haa!
Shine: Get some.
It Depends… At What Time?
It sat there. A treasure ripe and waiting to be plucked and plundered.
A taboo hung thick in the air. The thoughts of law and order. Commands given and received.
Yet there it sat firmly placed atop the cold harsh reality of the unattainable. A gem sparkling and viewed by a mind filled with the temptatious thoughts of a mind well schooled in what is right and what is wrong.
The hands of the clock rotated around the center of the sun. Night became day became night became day until the day came where the thoughts overpowered logic and reason.
A mission: Made in planning and executed with precision.
First, a chair. A wooden chair pushed with exertion to help aid in an endeavor now filling the mind with happiness and expectations.
Second, the will. Gravity to overcome, height to attain. Jubilee to feel as with each action lead towards success.
Third, the moment where the hand made contact with what was not of the world of a child. And then another hand to make contact.
Fourth, to relish in victory.
You see, for a four year old boy whose mind was as intelligent as ever there was intelligence, had made the self choice of obtaining the cookies in the jar located in the kitchen. A clay contained holding the precious goods of chocolate chip cookies.
For the boy the mission was a complete success. For the boy’s mother and father, an acknowledgement of a smile.
Yep
Rome burned and the flames comforted the coming dark ages
Mankind discovered a new flame and fanned them until they felt the comfort of ignorance
Another flame is being tickled by the wind, an old flame not of passion or chance
How to know?
Just look at the smoke in the sky.
Happy New Year! (gulp)
whee!
Robin Lipinski 