The Forensic Biologist

 He was handed a slip of paper years ago  from the homeless man in the parking lot up at the Winn Dixie on Big Pine.. on it was a copy of an artists rendition of a man holding a pen and paper among'st the tall buildings of Manhattan from which he had been delivered as an infant ... the man in the picture was  looking up towards the stars in a night sky over and above the City's Skyline.

He always thought Jersey John looked like the reincarnate  between Joseph Stalin and Charles Bronson... his plight in this life was to live in the woods for neigh on 40 years now... he had some arrest record too let me tell you .. he could of been in the book of some worlds records...  they had one thing at least in common ...   a hateful woman that kept him from what  he was legally  entitled too.... but it was years earlier... the lesson for him  was still  coming to be learned.

The Forensic Biologist approached the bench...... shortly after his death in his dearly beloved 'Woods'

'Why he never quit the worry and the struggle and the for whom exactly he lived his life.. we shall never know' as they rolled him into the crematorium ........

Not terribly reassuring ...... he thought to himself as he watched on .........

The court Jester next approached the bench..... 'Your honor to whom exactly are we offering up the pleasing and why would that be'?

Our diminished pursuit of happiness based upon who's authority?

Your OWN?

Or the things of stealth and lies and deceit that we allow to surround ourselves  with and accept in good faith without one single Qualm?

and the Judge replied... 'Of course' 'sure' 'why didn't you know?'

and laughed his ass off.........   Why He had been cheated.

Jambalaya

 What was that part that got you the most?

Ready for a Slew of word.

A sea of voices in oblivion.

The quaint running of your mouth.

Your   shenanigan the plan.

My loss of interest.

Imagine that stick a great insignia.

So deep the dream irretrievable .

Our choice to respond.

Soothing of self.

Flowers for the living what the purpose to the Dead.

The cuts of cloth same of kind.

Letters to a combination lock to express the repercussions cost.

Thought to word word to thought.

Choice to respond.

No manipulating of thoughts allowed nor brain extensions....

Your ancient embodiment

 Sorry not much in the way of a meaning........

Rams in my Veil they were Flern Hooked.

They were corralled all up and making their realizations .

All with their Flat Pitched personality's.........  coming to conclusions.

NAH..... you will tire long before that they exclaimed among'st themselves..........

Lots to learn from the Shepherds..........

about.......

Your ancient embodiment .

MY Curious

 My Curious

Come closer

Spray Tan 1.00

However it remains

Wiki Crymans says...

Ain't got it in my heart to offer the man a Peanut Butter and Jelly sandwich.

Your have to ask this:

King Arthur  her Author .

along the wall in Wall Mart

Make me laugh with your intelligence .

My Curious

The Big Yellow Hippie Bus

 The dream of the big yellow Hippie Bus:

It now sits a mile high with sweeping panoramic views of the high desert rolling plains...... Tires and wheels removed and propped up on old railroad ties...... Big YELLER............ The old School Bus...

If you listen hard you can hear the squealing children still........ 

Then came the Hippies to call it rolling home.......

'Hippies living on a bus...... when they are  all dead then what?  No more Freedom?

Send more machines to out smart us.

What few possessions...... last of the Mohicans? 

The then that tried to  gave it a whirl...........

Then the powers that be came and told them to move along........ opportunity presented itself elsewhere...

Some ran out of money and gas........

Some outside financing came and they changed their lifestyles........ hopped in on the system... but still smelled of Patchouli Oil........

God love us all.......

and the Big Yellow Hippie Bus.......

Little treasures.. that lay within. 

3 coins and an empty pimienta jar

So I'm trying to figure out if I can write about nothing or anything,

Yesterday walking down the shoreline I came across a small package wrapped tightly in plastic.

'It twitchy on Aphrodite when wind blew last night.'

An angry sky grew in the distance.

I was surrounded by a pod of dolphins in my little boat when sea turtles flew beneath me.

As I said I am challenging my self to see if I can write about nothing or anything.

What could possibly be the story behind the 3 one Peso coins and the empty red pepper bottle marked (pimienta roja) that were so tightly wrapped in black plastic?


Perhaps a math question in an interesting form ? Or

A boy was sent to get the pepper bottle refilled...for 3 pesos somewhere and he stopped and had a sit on the Malcon...and set package down and the wind blew it across the sea

So many scenarios.....if you had 3 Cuban Pesos and there were 25 Pesos in a US dollar how much would one Peso be worth ..

I once bought an Empenada for .12 cents in Havana on the street

Or 3 Pesos....as I recall...  Of course that was then.

I wonder if someone got scolded for loosing the 3 Pesos and the empty pepper bottle?

Or simply went without Cayenne?

Lost in a squall

Have you ever been lost in a squall?

Experienced spatial disorientation?

Had hallucinations?

Deciphering what is real?

Which way is up?

Lunacy films presents....


SENT A SIGNAL.

OK....so let's firstly go back to this issue
Does God or do the Gods have a sense of humor?

I hope so....

Like inheriant dynamic stability.

And struts..

Different breaking points and a BRS.

The joys of spatial disorientation....

THE new Normal: PISSY.

Bent over.........

Who's ready for fun time?

Slipping a little more every day.

Voices in the Wind.