Posts Tagged ‘fiction’

01/18/2018 – Random Writing at 4 AM – Another Poem?

Inside my mind; I do find myself – not against the rage but not in peace either; the waves do crash upon the shore again; it is peaceful even in that storm, to hear the breaks, the rage.

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Sometimes I wonder though if this life is even worth that rage.

A NOTE TO MY DEAR READERS: 

I wrote a piece tonight; at 3 AM, at a different site – Random Writings at 3 AM(Click! READ!!!) 

My mind is awake; keeping me awake in body and soul, so I write to amuse you; TO AMUSE MYSELF, I dare say, to pull from me that place words, to place upon the screen to let you read that which is inside my head; inside my brain.

Photo0047Here in the world; the darkness of the late night or early morning; I know not what, it matters to your perception; I begin to write, silly things, my words, thrown together quite madly, nothing in design or planning; random words typed quickly before they are lost to that insanity; no rhyme or reason I should say.

A memory interloped into the mess: not THAT far away in time but enough to make me realize, I am old, middle aged.

I was in high school, memorizing the passages of darling buds of May; henceforth a love done lost, to wishes and dreams unloved; is not that reality better to live, to breathe, to see, to feel that heart break then never to have loved before?

Memories trance themselves into view randomly; as if in a dream, I shall sleep soon, I believe, I shall see the faces of those who dance among the cerebral consciousness of myself, in that dream land, peeking out from here and there; tonight my dear readers is but a mess, of randomness.

My English teacher; throwing pages down upon my desk; a composition in my first madness.

‘Unbelievably dull characters; nothing seems alive, dead! Dead! Dead! F!’ she wrote upon it; in red. ‘You’ll never be more than what you are!’

I never understood, I still don’t; it’s impossible to be more than what you are; unless you break the laws of time and space; split the universe in half, rip reality into ninths and shit upon it all!!

But I digress, sweet readers, I do not know where my mind will take us; into madness, into love, into that sweet embrace of timeless wonders; that first kiss, that first date, that moment of first joy of release, though I shall not say that first fuck!

Words do drift out; could this be the end or the beginning?

I do not know; let us begin; said the joker to the king.

We all wears masks; we hide the reality, it is easier that way; the characters do drift in and out of our lives; and make us happy, sad, indifferent, etc. etc. etc.

This is how it shall be; the beginning, the middle and the end.

The holy trinity!

Good night; till tomorrow, I am forever indebted to you, dear reader, as you share with me; this journey through time and space; Good night!!!

 

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dude-wait-what-stoned-kitty-pedro-8122726Today seems like a good day to write about something positive, to skip over such icky subjects like homeless people, Political crap and other misfits trying to rule the world, natural disasters at a seemingly increasing level but we all know that climate change is a myth, and other crap hitting the media door right now.

So today, my friends, I decided to write about happy butterflies but apparently Google thinks happy butterflies equals stoned kitties and why not.

I wish I was stoned right now.

It would help in my writing, like:

FOLLOWERS, TO THE READY, LET US DEFEND OUR DEFENSELESS POSITIONS ON THINGS, WE ARE YOUR NIGHTMARE DRESSED IN PRETTY DREAMS, TO ARMS! TO ARMS!!

I don’t really feel like writing poetry or a serious posts, though, those do get hits from my general followers and Google searchers alike.

Hi Google searchers, how are you?

Fine?

Awesome!! Me too!!!

“Really?”

Yes I am!! I overdosed my diet Coke with many shots of energy stuff at the soda fountain and am feeling awesome.

“Awesome!”

Course, I made the mistake of turning over to the news and well, my buzz is still going, thank you very much!!!

So anyways, glad you’re still breathing and I am too!!!

Good night and have a better tomorrow, your friend,

ME!

In Hell we build, to death we give in dishonor.

Universal Date:10,500,000 DC(During Crisis)
Location: Earth Reflection – After Mission 2.7 – Earth is filled with slutty dolphins

Captain D’Xalare – Mission Commander Reporting –

The Earth was dead, the only thing left, humanity, the parasite, still suckling on its mother’s tits angrily,  still draining its life as she laid dead on the blackness of the universe.

Humanity, an evil race, killing each other in the name of love and peace, over such silly details as the color of their skin or their worship of an imaginary deity, some even worshiped the same God but their words were translated differently.

Worthless reasons to kill each other, the Vogons only kill over the huckleberry found on this otherwise worthless planet.

We, the True Race, found this planet on a routine mission to study its true ruling specie, the pigeon when we discovered this lovely treat, its jam being a elixir of sexual delight.

The inferior of our species, the Moron, tried to mate with the berry directly staining their antenna blue.

Stupid Morons.

We, the Galaxon, ate of the berry and was amazed, delighted, then aroused and mated right on the spot with what the “Earthlings” call a “Dolphin”.

A very wonderful trip I had to say and noted it so in my diary of said mission.

Recommendation to Counsel: I truly recommend that this planet be stripped of the wonderful berries and the dolphins be saved.

The rhinoceros and elephants of this world are a nasty breed and have been known to charge and kill other species who intend to mate with them in a peace keeping mission such as ours.

The humans of this world will enjoy the process for awhile then becomes angered in a short order.

We recommend further that the world be destroyed as it has been declared “Hostile” and therefore ready to be demolished to be replaced by an on ramp to Worm Hole 789!

 

Heaven be her name – The Story of Destiny

I keep thinking I’m making headway in this thing called life but then the waves come crashing down.

I come up for a breath, feeling the blessed air coming into my lungs, but there, again, the monster waves hit me, hard, pushing me to the bottom, scraping my body against the coral reef, where am I?

Nowhere, going fast, up one minute, kick to the face, down, counting, 1, 2, 3, do I wanna get up again or stay down for the count?

The bets are coming in, I’m staying down, but nope, my dumb ass gets back up.

Why?

I’m a winner!

I laugh at that, my inner demon does, I’m no winner, I’m a big fat loser!

I’m trying to stay alive, well enough, I think, until I look in the mirror, standing there, bloody, broken, ready to give in.

“I love you!” she, the one in my corner, even though I’m insane.

I keep going because and for her.

“What’s her name?”

Destiny.

Heaven be her name….

How I love thee, in a previous life even,
I whisper thy name during those times,
I think I can not go on,
There you are,
A shimmering light against the encroaching darkness…

The dragons invade my sleep, the crazy, hello insanity, you try to keep me sane, I am slipping into madness…..hello dear friend, how are you this fine and wonderful evening?

I am dead inside.

Opening old and new wounds!

What is reality?

A dream placed into real life?

Is that the definition?

Dear one, I shall keep walking till the end, tomorrow shall never come!

Cheap beer and steel guitars,
Whiskey and lonely hearts,
Broke down in San Antonio,
Drinking time in old down towns,
Looking for a good time,
Finding nothing but a broken heart,
Cheap perfume
And lonely eyes,
Living the honky time life,
Bar flies and worn out trucks,
Drinking time,
Anytime,
Pull up a stool and shoot the breeze,
Closing time is far away,
Don’t mind ole Montana,
He down on his luck,
Found a woman,
She did a buck,
Run away with a rodeo clown,
Broke his heart,
And now he sits at the bar,
Trying to find a replacement heart,
Drinks his lonely heart beer run,
Texas born,
Down on his luck,
He hears the jukebox play,
Ole Same is on his way,
Lonely hearts
And cheap motels,
Only wine can heal it fine,

Beer makes it televised!!

…a battered soul, a spirit lost to the midnight hour, the world spinning out of control, set to destroy. Warning to those who dare think to enter this land, only death shall follow…

lights-1254324_960_720.jpgA misery inside, a passionate fire put out before a fiery rage, a scream into the moonlight, close my eyes, do not let me die here, in this broken place, wake me up from this nightmare.

I stood at the edge, my eyes gazing into the starry skies, the Gods stood by, waiting to see what fate decided, suicide of a worthless soul, his spirit to disappear from everything.

The endless nights, the beast prowled, the silence of the dead dying on sheets in crypts made of marble.

“Craw….” the words echoed from my dying throat. I could not see, just hear the voices in the winds, her scent drifted into what was left of my brain.

The Goddess, the madness, she was there, not as a vision, a dream, but flesh and blood, a person.

I wanted to call out her name, but my voice was gone, ripped out and stolen by the crow, Master and Mistress, to the wind, to the time, it was nothing but a fantasy, strangely ripped from the pages of time.

The city had been built, a perfect place, filled with perfect people, but destroyed by imperfect solutions.

Towering buildings, golden, rusting in the sands, bridges destroyed, crumbling into the mighty seas.

The Guardians, the beasts, trying to guard this horror, kept watch, killing those few who made it through the defenses and the gates, the world was not ready for the truth.

It had to be spared the horror.

 

Mired in misery, the waters, the lands, the air became poison, killing all.

They who dared to enter the arena, the dead world, were killed, the memories of them erased…

 

31452490845_f7598ede24_bWe were cruising on the road, dateline, July 10th, 1993 – outside of some sleepy little dusty town.

Drive through liquor store just outside the town limits, 14 bottles of whiskey stashed into the trunk, enough for the 75 miles to the next little shit hole town, Petersburg, named after Walter Peters, a general from the Civil War.

What so civil about war anyways?

John was taking hits off the can of gasoline stored in the back, tipsy, running on speed, trying to see if there were bunny rabbits on the side of the road selling tomatoes and a variety of fruits.

There wasn’t a soul outside, just flashes of lightning, drifting rain, memories, words of sorry, Angela was trying to find us, me.

She killed herself back in Tulsa, some boy broke her heart, he doesn’t need to be named for this story.

We were hoping for a life of leisure when the bottom fell out, miscarriage, 2003, I tried to be a man, but failed, like always, and ran away for the road.

Four bit hookers on speed, trying to remember the golden times, space, time, ripped from the womb of mother, father drunk.

Tonight, the yellow lines of the road speed by us, laser show, this is our story, running on empty at mile marker 23.

I was listening to the radio, this was our song, feelings, right there, busted heart, Las Vegas took my last dollar, found ten on the way to Reno.

I remember sitting on the roof, throwing shingles into the street below.  Pigeons stared at me as I listening to the moon trying to tell me everything would be alright, shouldn’t jump, break the street, in a bloody mess, someone would have to clean it up anyways.

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Night, the road always seems to be peaceful out there.

It wasn’t, my mind was thinking, always bad to think.

Johnny was dying in some hospital out east, bad liver, killed himself with the bottle.

1492, something about the ocean blue, this one was dedicated to Johnny, maybe when he died, we’d stop at some flea bite hotel outside of Fargo, North Dakota, we’d drink some gasoline from fancy crystal glasses, out by the broken pool.

Our life, a salute – a man in the corner, making potions, in some traveling show, riding the train, listening to the music of the tracks.

We stood outside, in the whispering wind, listening to the memories, 2017, still high on whatever we found on the street of the last town.

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Indiana corn field burning brightly in the sweet, sweet night.

Good night, till tomorrow, we shall see…..