Posted on by robinblipinski · 1 Comment

The Day After.

Written by: A survivor

There became the seen and the unseen, the living and the dead. With a sun rising above a scene unseen ever before with so many eyes no longer left to see.

In the time of years and centuries, great clocks once rang proud around the world. London once had a clock with the patriarch name, Big Ben; sounds now silently locked away in memories no longer alive.

War. A battle of kinetic force waged with great spiritual intensity. Waves of vibration unleashed to combine the music of death with reality. War. What it was good for was the day after.

No longer would the tick-tock sound announce mankind’s travel through days, no longer would fields be plowed and planted in Spring weather and crops harvested in late Summer providing food for those long dark Winter days.

Yesterday there was war. Such a grand war if anyone were left alive to give such a grand title to such a grand scheme. War of light and dark, hot and cold. War of absolute totality.

Even today, the day after the silence now replaced the horror of death and screams. Even today it was quickly becoming impossible to believe such a war could have ever taken place. Impossible maybe if humanity was still alive to give such a statement. It was for an absolute certainty there was no life visible. No insects, no birds, fish, beast.

In the days of old, the days of the humanity, of kings and queens. In those days there was much activity. Animals slaughtered for the feast, grains grown for breads and animal feed. There were nets cast to catch the silvery scaled fins of the sea. So much opulence just regarding what it was that the living inhabitants needed. Those were the old days, today, the day after, it was a special day.

For in a world old, a world given labels of time numbering years in the billions, the world had endured wars of gods, of nature, of time. Cosmic disasters. Biological disease. Alien corruptions carried by comets trying to give seed. An old world used to life/death and everything in between.

So yes, today, the day after was indeed special as buried deep in a cave there did exist life, a life already creeping into the darkness focused upon reality.

Deep in the cave there carried vast reservoirs of pure untainted water. There existed the recent moldering bodies of those survivors now recently deceased. There were piles of preservation of food stocks sealed and unbroken; ready to eat.

Small feet make for small sounds with the chittering/clicking sound now the only language alive on this dead world as even in the deepest canyons of the deepest oceans not even the whale sounds existed or the snapping sounds of crabs now rotting in their shells no longer a home to life.

Indeed, the scene of the day after seemed hopeless for a world now left with dead tides, dead air, dead plants, trees… And yet, there in the cave their crawled a survivor already neck deep in the opulent feast.

All hail the survivor, the day after, the feast! All hail the egg laden cockroaches left to tame the new world on this, the new day!

Posted on by robinblipinski

Therupy

Written by: A turnip farmer

Once upon a time there was a dirt clod separator agoing by the name, Cletus. Now Cletus was what you might call, a turnip sodbuster. Meaning he’d be one of those folk that turns the sod over by using a mule and a plow. Single shank shiny sodbusting machine a straight out of Sears and Roebuck cateelog.

Now Cletus was a definitely not a fancy dandy. There was no automobile, no lectricty, and no telivision.

It might sound strange but turnip sodbusters wor funny clothies. They had to cuz there weren’t much money to be made by selling turnips. Most nips ended up as hog slop, or in Cletus cause, his still. See, turnips made some nice alkehol.

I’m telling this story as Cletus wuz my cousin who worried about nuthin, well, almost nuthin cept talkin to women folk.

Cletus was a bigun, stood about three axes high with black wiry hair strong enough to slick a tick. Sometimes the mule he used to sodbust got cranky and tire so many days old Cletus had to take the leather straps n pull that single shank shiny plow hisself, whistling and going gangbusters.

One day Cletus saw a woman standing on the road next to a automobile spewing black smoke. This worried Cletus as he was alway fideting and sweating when his body was near a female, specially them ones that were not sporting a beard or sipping from a jug while not having any teeth.

This here woman was a looker, weighing in bout ten stone, the heavy kind. The kind where a man could have her help pull a cord of wood, split it, and still have enough spark to plow twenty acres.

Cletus tried to avert his gaze and while the plowing was hard work, he started sweating a pool of stink and his gut felt like a skunk crawled up inside to nest.

A strong whistle came ringing down and plumb slammed Cletus in the head. He had no choice but ta check the source, source being of course, the lady astanding next to the dead automobile.

With a tremble said to the mule, “Yahooo…” Which in mule language means, “Stop.”

Wiping the dirt from his hands Cletus ambled on over to talk to this woman.

“Uh, howdy miss, need any help?” Cletus now was truly sweating up a storm and the skunk in his gut sought higher ground inside his head.

“Yes indeed sir. Seems my car here is not feeling well.”

Now, Cletus could talk mule, he could talk plow, heck he could even talk to squirells, dogs, and wildcats. Women folk without beards and had most of their teeth were a might hard to even evoke a whisper.

Pausing for a spell, Cletus told this fine lady, “I don’t know much bout automobiles. Nothing at all.” And with that he turned and lumbered off.

He lumbered off a mumbling an giggling. Lumbered past his mule and plow. Lumbered past the turnip patch. Lumbered past his shack. Heck, he lumbered so long he go tired and lay down to take a nap.

When Cletus woke up he found himself naked, surrounded by fried possum, fried grizzly grease. He was shocked as he stood up and saw a lake with giant trout jumping up and laughing at him daring him to catch them. Cletus realized he was in heaven an what a wonderful heaven. No turnips, no mules, no plows, no cousins, no women with or without beards.

“Yehaa!” Cletus said as he reached down to pluck a ripe watermelon. Yessir, heaven it was indeed. An not a worry in the world.

Daily writing prompt
What’s something you used to worry about but don’t anymore?
View all responses

Posted on by robinblipinski

Lets examine experience.

I have been blessed with many abilities, reading being one of them. A little background. Growing up there was no television, no video games. Growing up there was school, work, and books. Thousands of books. Books written on every subject. Books of fiction and non fiction.

In my prime I could consume three books a day easy while still providing ‘time’ for sleep, work, school. Carrying a pile of books weighing 25 pounds or more every time visiting the library. What fun days.

Now why babble about what just glazes over the eyes of those already bored reading this? The reason is that in the consumption of millions of words it became easy to get into the minds of those authors writing the books. To feel the personal touch of both the author along with the editors and publishing houses.

Lately the obvious is now words written with the aid of A.I. or other computer related signatures. Yet, still the mind of the author comes through.

I no longer read a lot of books as when it comes to humanity, the collective mind has already been read, devoured, processed, and placed into permanent storage. It now is very rare for me to be ‘surprised’. There still remains the hope that some human somewhere will express something from their experience, their mind yet that outcome is very doubtful.

Poetry is the exception. Poetry surpasses anything A.I. can come up with. Poetry written by A.I. is as obvious as a rock falling off a cliff and smashing a hiker in the head, so does not count.

Poetry is the only literature, the only written thoughts by humans that are not only real; they surprise.

Now, the reason for writing this is to make a point of some sort or another. Currently enjoying a book written by Michael Drury. She wrote a wonderful book of which pleased the nerves in my mind. She obviously is well versed in writing and in presenting what is inside her mind. She is open, raw, talented, and also jaded, ignorant, and sad.

Michael’s way of presenting her thoughts are rare and refreshing. And in reading her work the experience gives rise to the thought, “Maybe there is hope for this world?” A thought soon dashed when reading chapter four titled, ‘The Other Side of Love’.

In chapter four it instantly became easy to see that while Michael is a very intelligent woman and that her approach to age and time is excellent, her thoughts of what love is, is to say the least, absolute bull shit.

So, what is love? For Michael love is something she has not truly known, which by my own statement is also bullshit. Every human has experienced love. Without exception, every-human-knows-and-experienced love. True love. Real love. Almost every human has rejected that love, instead embracing the illusion of hate the world smothers each and every human in..

I won’t spend much ‘time’ regarding how every human has experienced true love suffice to say, God knew each and every human before they were even born… God is nothing if not the face of the purest Love ever was/is/and will be. Of course, this is one reason why people forget they know love as many choose to forget God.

Okay. Getting back to Michael and love, she explains her opinion in a wonderful way of physical writing and a wonderful way of showing pure ignorance. For all her intelligence my dog Thor know what love is better then she ever will.

For all the intelligence being placed on the human experience it is absolutely amazing to see how one can love and yet condone the death penalty. How one says they love and yet hate that of which they love.

My sister has been married five times. The common thread was how much she ‘loved’ each husband and how soon that love turned into hate.

What is the point of this all? Well, the point is that love from God is easy and yet almost impossible for most to understand. (maybe because it is too simple for people to understand?) It is also that love from another is also easy and yet almost impossible for most to understand.

Some bullet points.

  1. Love is not hard, love is easier than breathing.
  2. Love is not evil. love is the fire and water is the hate wanting to extinguish the flame
  3. Love knows no time, no age, no bitterness…L-O-V-E is e-t-e-r-n-a-l. Eternal. Love is absolute.
  4. Love is not physical, hormonal, pheromones.
  5. Finally for the point of this exercise, love is not of this planet. It comes from nothing in this illusion you all embrace as a realty called, home. Love is a true gift from God, one meant to be shared by all.

Reading is wonderful. Writing is fun. Experience every ongoing. And stuffed jalapeno peppers with cream cheese, honey, and bacon are addictive.