Two Men Were Talking

Down near the crick sat two old men who acted more like children than those soon getting measured for a coffin.

Both were born in the same village, both the same age, both friends. Two proverbial peas in the pod.

Can’t tell you their real names cuz you don’t need to know, plus you wouldn’t give two shits about two old men. Gonna call them Walt and Frank.

Sittin by that crick the two sipped from the jug. Both made excellent shine and today the smooth corn gold liquid came from the still of Walt.

“Ah yes, this be some good,” Frank complimented Walt’s result of the recent run.

“Yup. Tweaked the heat a bit.”

The two sat by the crick sipping and watching in silence as the water critter bugs skipped and danced atop the slowly moving current.

Softly Walt spoke and said, “I was a thinking of taking my collection of S & H stamps and redeeming them fer something. Whatcha think I should a trade them for?”

Frank laughed a bit and replied, “Why in hell you want to trade your collection of S & H stamps fer? What, you must got at least twenty full books by now?”

“Nineteen. I got nineteen books clean full of them stamps. Been collecting them for years.”

Frank replied, “Well, you got me beat, I only got five and a partial. I’m gonna save mine fer a fillet knife.”

“Fillet knife? You got enough fer two.”

The two took to sippin again while in the tree behind them two squirrels were chittering bullshit about who owned the tree.

Ashes and Oblivion with only the potential of a small white flower germinating from the shit storm humans gave this planet as a parting gift.

Balance: To equalize. Stabilize the chaos between creation and destruction.

Work

Home life.

Are such concepts of such accepted reality able to be balanced?

Betrayal. Ah yes. To betray. Deceive. Gaslight. Hurt. Cause pain.

Home is where one can be secure to the degree society will allow. Live next to a meth lab your home is dangerous. Work in a meth lab and you are dangerous. Live in paradise and work with beauty is divine, safe, wonderful, peaceful…

This world is the meth lab, the people living here work in the meth lab. This world is a betrayal.

There is much to be overlooked in betrayal. The home life, the work. But there will never be balance between what is done, what is, and what needs to be.

For a very long time to be used to a world where work is wonderful and the home heavenly only to be thrust into an arena of shit. And thus comes hope and the concrete reality of betrayal.

To the mule trainer, fuck you your home and your job.

To the mule, the rabbit, the cow, sheep, pig…You’re being led to slaughter.

To the Wind. Such a wonderful and only friend. Thanks.

Balance between work and home?

There is balance between betrayal and hope. Both exist equally if one choose to live in such an honest lie. Betrayal is obvious and hope is obscure. Balanced. Equal.

Soon my work will be done and i will be able to go home. My real home.

There is a story of a proud young male called, boy. A boy who talked to God. God talked to the boy. Life was good.

God sent a Son to a planet called, Earth. Jesus. Maybe you have heard of this Man?

On planet Earth the many people of many colors, age, and time, all worshiped ‘something’.

Some sacrificed other humans to god or god’s. Some who believed in God sacrificed lambs, such as the Jews. Some sacrificed themselves.

Sacrifice: To offer, give, honor, appease, ‘something’.

Usually a sacrifice is also a depletion of a persons wealth. If an arm caused sin than cutting off that arm was a sacrifice. Barbaric? Bullshit? Strange? Well if you’re human, you decide.

Even those who don’t believe in god, god’s, God, or anything other than whatever it is they fancy at the moment, sacrifice. They sacrifice money to get an abortion. They sacrifice their morality to go fuck anything that moves.

Now, getting back to the boy who talked to God. One day he held a glass of water and poured it on the ground saying, “I offer this to God.”

Ha!

The boy was an idiot and quickly learned the folly of being an idiot. God was not amused, the boy was schooled. And Jesus died as a sacrifice so that no longer would sacrifices to God be needed.

No more slaughtered lambs. No more nailing a body to a piece of wood. All one has to do now is to talk with an open heart to God.

Simple.

Easy to understand as a single glass of water.

And the best part is the story has a good ending.

Geez…

A tough question.

One small improvement I can make in my life?

I guess the first thought coming to mind is to pull my head out of my ass.

Daily writing prompt
What’s one small improvement you can make in your life?

In the Beginning

there was darkness

eternal darkness filling the void with nothing

and then…

then there was the word and the word brought life

Life…

Light…

Imagine now the music of vibrations, of sensations.

God heard my silence, my subjugation, my mind

so God made/gave the friendship of others

Life

and then went back to baking a most wonderful cosmic pizza.

Public Fixture

“Hello. I’m Timmy with CNN Special Report and was wondering if I can ask you a question regarding public figures?”

Timmy was asking a ‘person’ who had a whole different perspective on human thoughts and emotions

“Why? Why would you want to ask me a question about public figures? Are you bored? Hungry? Do you floss your teeth before going to bed?”

“Yes. I floss. No, I’m not bored. And seriously though, if you don’t mind answering, what public figure makes you upset or angry?”

“I’m glad you floss. Flossing teeth used to shred food into smaller pieces is definitely an excellent maintenance idea. Now, as to your question, I don’t much care for what you people do.”

“You mean me? The media?”

“I mean most people. Humans interfere with my enjoyment of shredding food into smaller pieces so I can test, assess, and enjoy the food on your planet.”

“So, all people make you upset or angry?”

“No. Did your mother give birth to you while standing and you were dropped on your head? (sigh) But an answer about public figures that upset me the most is the one where a human body is torn in half while being pushed onto the tracks of a subway train. It’s bizarre and a bit unsettling to see the upper torso splattered on the train window while the lower part twitches uncontrollably with muscle and blood. Very upsetting and it makes me even more hungry to shred some meat and eat it.”

The reporter had a strange look on his face as said, “Thank you,” as he quickly departed from the odd and strange being.

“Remember, don’t forget to floss.”

A Path Forward

Written by: Not Nancy Pelosi

Such a future.

A journey of exploration of a vibrant world filled with life.

To grow both in body and mind.

Strive for knowledge and achievement, filled with the the pain of failure and loss while savoring the sweet taste of success.

With the passing moments to become whatever it is that I will become or can be.

(Pause now and think about what you just read)

A wonderful future.

Bright.

A chance of attending something greater than myself

(A sound among bright lights. Medical professionals prepping.)

In only a few minutes my future went blank. A black void of nothing. In the womb where I lay growing a preparing for a career of Life… I was destroyed.

Aborted.

Killed.

But my mother, she now has to only concern herself with her career and future, a life where she has the choice to do or be whatever it is she wants.

Maybe she will miss me?

Maybe now she will be happy?

Seems Like Only Yesterday

“It was a dark and stormy night…” The old geezer was sitting on a bench and was starting to spin a tale.

“No it wasn’t. It was a clear moonlit peaceful night.” A squirrel chimed in while eating the stale nuts the old geezer had tossed in its general direction.

“You weren’t there squirrel.” A stern voice replied, or was there a trace of insecurity in his voice?

“Sure I was. It was me, those fucking stupid pine trees, my cousin Chitterbox, and you.” The squirrels face squinted in disgust as one of the nuts was actually a stray Viagra pill and gave the tree rat a new perspective on wood.

“Anyway, it was a dark and stormy night. The owls were not hunting as…”

Interrupting the aroused squirrel was playing with his nuts and said, “No, it was bats. There was a moon. It was light, warm, and peaceful. The bats were busy playing a competitive game of tag.

“Who’s telling this story? Me? You? And why are you humping that forest toad?”

There was no comment coming from the squirrel as he had found a pleasant interlude with a bumpy, ugly forest toad that smelled oddly enough, of Cheeto’s.

“The owls were not hunting as they were discussing the pending fate of the local pine forest. Lately the trees had stopped dancing and turned their collective into only concerning themselves. Why, just yesterday they flipped me off and then again today.”

“You’re loopy.” The squirrel was laying on his back smoking a joint. A joint he stole from his neighbor while stealing the neighbors dog food.

“Loopy? Maybe. Though while the trees were defiant and losing their way they fail to understand that this Summer they will be destroyed. Lightning will instill in them the pain of fire and order will be restored.”

The squirrel was silent following the old geezers statement and now silence. Then he said, “Yeah. On this we agree. Got any chips and dip?”

(and this is the last live show I just saw and now if you’re reading this shit, you are too. oh, and if you’re a local pine tree, I’d uproot and move.)