Digging For Dada Collective surreal distopian society visual poem

An Alien Who Met Some Professional Animals On It's Visit To Earth sci fi photography story

Here are some animals I have met

they are professionals...

experts in their field...

or patch....

with purpose and vision

I cannot recommend them more highly

it was like they are born for the job...

but....

Those humans.....

they're slackin' on the job!!!

what is it they are supposed to be doing anyway?

They can't possibly be management!

their not.

then who?

the rocks

the ones that have mica in them

and the ones polished smooth by the sea

ah...that makes sense...

sense?

huh? oh yeah...sense.

sir?

nostalgia that's all

sometimes i miss having a body....

i still have it you know....

I put funny hats on it sometimes....

sigh...

ah well, deploy to your next assignment 

and kid....wear your hat!

dismissed!

Short Story Within A Short Story folk tale about philosophy, gardens and blue apples

A short folk tale that appears in a long short story I wrote 

“Harkin! Once upon a time there were no farmers and humans wandered, taking this berry or that and chewin' on this or that there root as they liked. You see, the garden is a gathering of vegetables and fruits that the hungary vagabond might come across on a walk around but this garden floats in time and space for fear of the same hungary vagabond, a fearin' that he might enjoy the food so much that he would build a house right there and then bring his family and in doin' just that he would then be  bringin' a village and mayhaps in a moment of blind Eeee- rrationality he would a build and build up so that a paved city there would be where no vegetables can grow accept in REGulated areas. Then they got to thinkin', it was either that or become a city of their own making and then when the village came they would find themselves inside the outside. 

Ah! That was smart yes-sir-eee-bob! And harkin! When the garden found a particularly good patch they then a grew vast windows and open doors and in a seein', the humans disowned cement and mortar and became the ones farmed.

What fruits can humans produce you may ask?

Their unique perception, that's what! That so does arrange and organize a one's reality, organically sewn into the fabric of the garden so it was as a tapestry and in going bout the work of craftin' and weavin' and spinnin' up this here artistic endeavor did the blue apples appear that when you eat em' had the unique character to take the eater's mind which is but a part of the garden and reflect it upon the whole. It was in one of those dispositions that a mind did wonder oh where oh where did the sky go? And so in his spirit body he did peak out of the rind that encompassed all and in a peakin' he so did see a giant pluck the orbed world with him contained inside and with two or three violent bites a yum a yum a yum......did but the core of his reasoning remain. Tossed aside upon the ground then did the seeds germinate into twenty instead of one and only then was it clear that it twern't nothin' more then the head of the hydra that is severed when a body dies even such a one as an entire world.

The end."

Censored poem with colorful language

i see how it is

shit fucker

born free?

no comment.

i see how it is

dick sucker

born free?

i plead the 5th.

i see how it is

you fucking cunt

born free are you?

there are no

words for it

I tell you!

Fragment of short story witty banter fantasy about religion and poot the votive statue

"Here! This is the last of our chickens. go to the market and get some ginger."

"For the beans?"

"Wha?! For the….for the beans?! Are you mad? For our figure at the temple!"

"What are you going on about woman? It's a votive statue….it doesn't need …ginger….it doesn't even have a proper mouth!"

"This ginger is not for eating! It's to be given as an offering…you know….to the god we worship?! What is it going to give the gate keeper then tell me that, eh?"

"Look, I traded two chickens,  one of my nicest pots and my very own marker medallion for this…..shit!"

"Keep your voice down oy!"

"Yeah yeah…..I'm just sayin, votive statues all this….."

he said gesturing to the ornate temple at the center of the village…..

"it's all bullshit."

"But I'm the village medium I am and I ain't bullshittin."

"But honey suckle your aren't the village medium it is your step sister, remember?"

"I don't have a step sister."

"What they got divorced already?"

"Of course not, you can't get divorced that's why I'm stuck with you."

"But you said you had a step sister twice removed and then this long story I half listened to."

"So….you don't listen to my stories, eh?"

"No sugar dumpling, I mean yes!" Heppo said fawning over his voluptuous wife. "I'm not saying anything bad about you sugar bottom. we could get some sugar instead of ginger…..for the beans…..it would save us half a chicken!"

"HURUMF! Well someone's a medium whoever that may be and I KNOW I know…..that there is such things inside of us as souls and more besides! If your not fearin then why yous bought the statue then, tarry and way you are afraid of the darkness, the mad creeping darkness and the eye that looks into our own and sees naught but itself!"

"No, actually wife…I am not….I just don't want undo attention from the priest's military."

 "Ohhhhh…un do… he says…that's big talkin there for a potter husband, I should have listened to my mother and married the butcher…..a man becomes practical beein' round blood and guts like he."

"He smells like rotten pig and looks like rotten pig and he's also a rotten pig!"

"Humf! better then a…..grasshopper that talks like a…..ummmmm…..peep frog or something."

"Nice try honey."

"Hurmf! I would know better then you if I did know which I may or may not."

"That's the best argument for anything I've ever heard…."

"Well then that settles it! You ARE getting ginger for poot and that is that……I'm not going to have him carrying my eternal soul and getting stuck at the gate of light it just won't do."

"You NAMED it? and you named it Poot?"

"What else would I name it, it looks like a Poot."

"Well, fine dearest honey suckle bottom……I will get the ginger but all of this….all of THIS….."

He waved his hand at society….

"Is bull."

Rainbow surreal poem fantastical drunken lament about religion and giant tweezers

The following was half dadaist writing experiment half fan fiction

I took two pages in a bar scene from Ian Esselmont's Stoneweilder 

selected fragments of sentences and words

and strung them together with a little sci fi twist

and other twisty twists!

Rainbow

                                                                                                       kroq.cbslocal.com

of this covenant….. 

I was merely dictating my calling!

rubbed the sleep 

rub a dub dub

from my eyes

listen!

I'd only dreamed

of such generosity

don't you see

don't you?!

you see….

blinkered 

in a negative

confrontation

as you are

listen!

chants

in a crowded room

eyed

uncertain

silent

ah yes, in that place

i remember

the dirtiest most degrading tasks

and the children! the children!

won't you buy me another shot?

wide eyed 

and soft 

suspicious of such generosity

I had no intention of leaving

let's drink to the children's health…

to their health!

                 allmusic.com

the drunken brawls 

like a grin

it was me 

small and chanting

such destruction

from my small unformed hands

such fear

now awake 

and grinning…. 

yet you helped me

you had seen no sign

half-blood

the old indigenous tribes

and another civilized 

or so it would seem

and the seat of office

officially closed

no justice

no justice here

faith

and faked pleasure

a regular hot bed of black market activities

buying and selling 

harvesters of rainbow light

in air Zeppelins

shining

holy vessels 

virgin voyage

                                                     metalvideo.com

large golden tweezers

way up in the air

of this covenant 

I was merely dictating my calling

a promise

a dream

I'd only dreamed

of such generosity

under the skirts

of golden domes

The air Zeppelins 

ufos

a calling 

harvest the photons

distilled in funnels

dripped in beakers

infused in blood

what was this promise?

half-blood

i am….

the old indigenous tribes

know best

                                     aguywalksinto365bars.com

that there is no justice

in faith and faked pleasure

revived and animated

fading

the survivors

of the first 

flood

did not look up.

                                                                                                   www.businessinsider.com

The Egg Collective surreal political poem about capitalism and reincarnation

The Egg Collective

www.veganoutreach.org

a never ending supply of bright young things

geometric angels 

become softer

rounder

broken.

damaged further

into

perfection.

wiki


The Egg Collective

www.public-domain-image.com

a never ending supply of bright young things

geometric angels 

become softer

rounder

broken.

damaged further

into

perfection.

The Egg Collective

sharonswannabecottage.blogspot.com

a never ending supply of bright young things

geometric angels 

become softer

rounder

broken.

damaged further

into

perfection.