Robin Lipinski

Beneath the tar paper covering the edge not yet covered with plywood, there huddled a group of stinkbugs.

The sun warmed the rich smelling paper as the blackness absorbed the heat. An island of relief for an insect needing heat for better living and mobility.

However, their residence was in the way of work. They needed to be moved or move or suffer a fate of being nothing more than stink.

A slow moving finger pushed them away where as they fell so many inches, they all took wing.

Flying individual in so many directions, trying to find a new place to huddle and find heat.

Is this how humanity is? Huddled? Trying to find comfort as a herd?

Not me as I need no one giving me a finger so I can fly. It is better to survive alone in a cruel, cold world. Actually, the closest thing to being free.

Why not?

Words feel more when felt

Meanings mean whatever is forgot.

A question mark to decide as if it were the symbol to own questions

Why not?

Words feel more when worn

Meanings become meaningful when held.

Today, and example of words inside the mind

knowing the car would arrive

even now, the words are alive

with pause, there is now no harm.

Explaining the question

Answering the questions

Why not?

The answer always, the answer always,

always the words are

alive…

Many people can claim great things… Athletic achievements. Intellectual prowess. Physical beauty. Musical magic… Why, just read the daily news and learn of so many successful people.

A midget with no hands or feet wowing a crowd with self-confidence courses. A woman who lost 600 pounds in a year to become a fashion model. So many examples.

But, how many people can say they dug an outhouse? A real ‘shit in the hole’ outhouse!

Now that is a success few can acknowledge, nor would they want to. Well, today, I get to move and dig a new hole for a real outhouse. What joy!

Lifting. Cutting. Digging. And the final success coming when bare buttocks can position and release the contents of the users bowels.

You know what? That would look good on a headstone. “Here lies a true digger of outhouse holes.” Now that would look excellent in a cemetery of all those truly great people who lived and died.

Perfect bit of shitty writing for a perfectly shitty world! Long live the outhouse hole diggers and ditch diggers of the world!

And so, the world keeps turning for another day.

Oh yes, a sucker for sincerity

a smile melts the insides

a frown melts the insides

and tears?

Butter would have a better chance with flame

Ice would survive in an oven

Feelings are something indeed

when scribbling dreams and chance…

So, does that prove we are alive?

Today. This morning actually. A cricket was on top of the metal roof being installed.

Not that strange, though the air was cold, the metal was cold, and the rear legs of the cricket caught in some buytl tape.

It was freed and it stood looking and talking to me. Strange? Not at all, it was/is, nice.

And, it is inspiring.

***

To listen to hate so

so much

so real

so

to listen to the freedom of appreciation

is so

so much

so real

so

what to choose in a world of people?

*

Hate exists because people make it real

Appreciation comes from more than people

so

so much

so real

so

as such i give thanks for the simple things in life

where all Life is more than real

so the choice is appreciation, the joy of seeing something survive among the hate and pain of this world.

Spider Song

If you listened today you would have heard the memory of magic
of sorts
as what is magic if not a moving moment of possibility?

There, hanging from a thread, glassed visions of repeat and seen
and there
walking the edge of rim, upon a world barrier set so
define…

such tiny bodies and tiny feet
everywhere
down and up and over and
here…

such beauty is how they seem
with yet
another moment
to listen
as they sing

such songs today as the moth held parade
a yellow jacket searched the jacket for food
while still
the spiders sang…

even now, deep inside where the web is tight
even now,
a spider sings.

Pissing stank

staining soul and brain

tastes are strange

hum dingy do, do hum dingy

and the cows jump over the moon.

Two words to describe the reality of what this world is coming too.

Women used to like having sex with men. Not all women mind you, as some women truly hate men, but enough women to allow for some great sex between men and women.

Lately though, society is painting men as evil. Women say they want sex but then say they were assaulted. Power is what it is. The power of tits and vagina. Always has been a power and always will.

Though, that power is now being replicated by modern technology. You can now have a robot sex machine depicting all the male sexual parts or female. Choice.

Sound sick? You decide but for me, not unexpected. It is for sure humans enjoy sex. Billions of people exist as proof of what sex is for humanity.

I say, go for it people. Fuck machines until your Viagra wears off. Men can fuck until they pass out. Women too, can enjoy the machines and then later say they were assaulted and sue the sex doll manufacturer.

As a disclaimer to those who will never read this shit: Yes, sexual abuse exists. Rape exists. All the horror  sexuality exists just as it exists in every fucked up aspect of human emotions. But lately, sex is being used more and more as power-and-control and not for what it is, fucking.

Would I buy a sex robot? Absolutely not. Don’t need too. I’m too disgusted with the human species to even consider the thought. Thankfully though, there is a whole lot of good food on this shit hole planet, and fishing. Those two alone are better than any fuckfest that has ever existed. And it w-i-l-l be most wonderful when my prison sentence on this fucked up planet is over.

Now, saying all the obscene and offensive shit above, the fires today were most enjoyable and the air was sweet and wonderful.

It is good to roar. It is good to write and be.

It is good to eat good food, sleep good sleep, dream good dreams.

It is bad to hate others

It is bad to hurt others

It is bad to hurt or hate  good.

Happy birthday. Today. Yesterday. Tomorrow.

It is good to remember those days of increase and decrease.

And what is time?

Really nothing more than a footnote; chronological applications to describe a species frame of mind to understand life.