little steps

Little footsteps go: tap tap tap tap tap - up and down, up and down, up and down, above my head. They are in fact little bursts of energy - forever calling out to me. I was sought of responsible for this, but at the same time she was just given to me as a gift and a challenge; for which every bone in my body tells me to play along and enjoy the ride.. in this way we are connected; she is a reflection of me, and I, very much of her - my first real life human mirror.

the thick green ocean

How the pens spill blood - oceans of thick green blood. It's easy to drown in this blood if ones not careful, but somehow I manage to stay afloat. I think it's got something to do with the thickness... yeah, that must be it... The thicker the liquid the harder it is for air to get through; so, as long as I stay on top I should be right.. But if for even a second I submerge into that green void, well then thats it. There will be nothing left for me to say or do... The only thing that will matter is the green thick endless ocean and the next person that gets to float.

sorry for questioning you

Don't stop writing. Make sure that there is always a key being hit; like, hit, tap, hit, bang, space, comma , b, to the e, to the c - then suddenly I notice a shadow on the keyboard, my black transparent shadow. It seems to act one step ahead of me, with absolutely no regard or concern for my own hand; just pretending in some cute, stealthy yet pathetic type way to follow my movements around; like some cheeky little mouse going about it's business, thinking that it hasn't been noticed. But you can't fool me... Who are you Mr shadow and what exactly is our relationship?... yes yes yes; So i've been told.... You are simply an optical occurrence resulting from light hitting my hand - but we both know thats just a tricky ruse! ..... on a second thought, disregard everything I just said and lets just go back to being friends.

a change of heart

Three hungry lionesses circled the innocent and injured young zebra, shivering in anticipation for the feast ahead. But in the instance before the attack, they all spontaneously and collectively came to the realisation that it would be a waste of a golden opportunity to not play with such a helpless creature first. After 70 hours of slow torments, a pseudo, preordained zebra vs state trial, and some 'experimental' psychoanalytical treatments, the lions; whose tummies were now fiercely rumbling, and whose young were growing impatient for nourishment, decided that enough was enough and that it was now time for the animal to be eaten. But whilst going in for the kill they all noticed a tear of joy coming from zebras eye, which forced them to abruptly halt in their tracks and ask  "young zebra whats wrong, why do you cry with joy when u should be shaking violently with fear?" To which the young zebra replied "you have all been so kind to me these last few days; through your accusations, trials and treatments, I am now finally at peace with world and heartened to know that I will be eaten by such fine and noble creatures such as yourselves."  The Lionesses, gobsmacked by these remarks had a sudden change of heart and decided to  temporarily bath, feed, and cloth the lion until he regained his strength and hopefully changed his attitude.

glass eaters PT II

Most of us thrive eating regular food, such as: meat, veggies fruit, grain, etc., without any problems. But, there are some beings whose bodies' could never fathom such an act; their digestive systems simply cannot process vitamins and minerals, and what is nourishment for us is poison to them. These people are know as glass eaters, and they are a vital part of any society. It is near impossible to recognise a glass eater though - in fact, they do not even realise that they themselves are glass eaters. On the whole they are friendly and tolerant folk who like to stay low key and out of trouble, so the fact is,  the only way one can distinguish a glass eater from ordinary people is through their dreams. Most of us have disjointed, flimsy and hazily abstract dreams that cannot materialise, break free and do any harm! But the glass eaters dreams are so vivid and concrete that they crystallise into a micro-universe where dreams can interact with one another, and take on a new life for themselves.

australia day

Align yourself with ancestors, with nation, with mum, dad and the people you love. Tear off your skin and insert some sexy, fresh robot eyes. Fuck religion, race & ethnicity / cherish religion, race & ethnicity. Who are you; does god still love me - or have i crossed the line? Put these words in a blender and slice them up with two peeled tomatoes and a whole onion.  Be impregnated by your enemy and feel the fresh, new, conflicted love grow inside. Steal some land and die, then have your de-composted body spread across continents whilst your children poke needles through one-another's eyes - could they ever have possibly know what else to do. Swap hearts with a person of different colour. Rip out your tongue and exchange it for a blue tongue lizard's lost tail. Be born in a vegetative state with no concept of nation, cuisine, culture, but only the warmth of parents love, then learn the ways of mankind; until the day comes when mother and father must be "taken care of."  I hate nation, I don't know nation, I fear nation, I am guilty of nation. I like foreign peoples spicy cuisine. I am you, you are me -  let god kill us all so that the devil can sort us out.

glass eaters

For a glass eating virgin such as Jonathan, the crunchy yet smooth texture and the fresh, pure taste of glass was so at odds with everything he had been led to believe, that during his very first bite he knew that this world could never be the same again. All his life he was warned about the dangers of eating glass; like, it would shred his internals apart and surly kill him, but as soon as Jonathan took that first leap of faith he understood all this was simply a fallacy. The first bite was heavenly, the glass burst magnificently into millions of glistening, healing, white shards of light, piercing every bit of matter in his mouth; moreover, the sound of glass being bitten was not like a deadly brittle crunch, but was in fact like the sound of a soft and gentle caress across the cheek by a smiling lover's warm hand. After grinding the small shards with his teeth, the glass softly melted into his gums and effortlessly gravitated towards his throat. Now, even after going through with this first step Jonathan still felt slightly anxious, but his intuition told him that he must take the final leap of faith and swallow every last skeric proper. So, without hesitation Jonathan closed his eyes and obliged. The glass felt like a cool blue lava-type substance that slowly but steadily traveled down his tract and through his organs - purifying every cell in his body to a prenatal state; before reaching the bottom of his stomach where it would rest in a soft and warm glowing pile for all eternity.

a wolf's contract

In a sustainable future, all cars will be made from fresh beef; that is, juicy, moist and fibrous flesh, right off the bone (PLEASE NOTE: theses animals will be produced only from genetically altered stock, with no nervous systems or emotions). In an accident, the meat will provide superior padding and protection for the family, the flesh can easily be remoulded and sculpted to fit in with changing fashions of the time, and on hot summer days it will provide a cool and refreshing comfort for the skin. To avoid the vehicle from ageing and rotting, a wolf will be assigned to every vehicle, for cleaning and servicing duties. During the day the wolf will go around the vehicle and eat/trim off any meat that is more than 7 hours old, then at the night he will surgically remove any excess flesh from his body (under anaesthetic of course) and then re-patch it into the vehicle; making it as good as new for the following day. In return for this eco-friendly mode of transportation, the wolf only asks, that the owner of the vehicle donate at least 1 offspring for the wolfs to raise and cherish as their own.

could the king be worong

The silk worm king, refused outright to bless the marriage of his son to the leather princess; even though the wise mystics said it was a pious match made for the heavens, and most certainly would produce offspring that would bring on a new dawn for this dying world. It wasn't that the king didn't want this with all his heart; in fact, he was the one who first prophesied such union, whilst the swine were entrusting their faith to stones! It was just, that he didn't have any faith, that a leather princess could ever truly sacrifice her fibrous, eternal, leatheriness being for the fragile and ephemeral existence  of a silk-worm.

creation

Allen, was an old veteran of a mosquito. He had sucked blood in the Vietnam war, in the dark bloody days of the Belgium Congo, he was even at hand in the Crimean war. But at his now old old age, he just couldn't be fucked with polite formalities anymore, if he wanted to feed, then by god he would feed, and if some snotty nose little brat were to kill him, then so be it; he wasn't going to prance around like some young hip mosquito, playing  the contrived games of  humans, he would go straight for the fresh juicy blood and that was that.

kaleingtin, was a decent, young, promising boy with a heart of gold. But he damned hated those hellish mosquitoes, they drove him nutty. On many a summers night he wished that they would all be wiped out in a nuclear war or something. This animosity was slowly consuming him from the inside out; he knew this, but it just simply couldn't be helped.

God, was in a reflective and introverted mood when # saw the sad situation of boy and mosquito, and # thought to #self,."Little boy, are you so so blind that you cannot not see that man was created from the limb of mosquito, the sacred limb that I personally snapped off my best freind millions of years ago".... God, with a heavy heart and teary eye got so worked up, that # just thought."Ahgh, to hell with this whole damn operation, if a mosquito can't even drink blood in peace then whats the point?" so with this in mind # impulsively decided to pull the plug on the universe and start afresh.

medieval librarian vs the devil

The ballroom was prepared exceptionally well, with period art-deco furnishings and decorations, persian caviar, french wine, and the best Sung Choi Bao in all of town. For music, there would be a smooth jazz band playing only the slowest love songs all night long. Yes, Mrs Mc Robinson was thrilled with how preparations had turned out. But, there was still another hour and a half before the ball began, so all she could do was just sit on a red velvet chair and sip on a fine vintage scotch. Suddenly a violent spasm rushed through her and she involuntarily walked to the middle of the dance floor and started dancing to an old bebop tune from the 30's. She was so shocked she simply didn't know what to do, but if she resisted at all, incredible amounts of pain shot up her spinal cord; so all she could do was give into the rhythm and dance. But why oh why was this happening - what on earth could be causing all this she thought. Then with a massive bang, an old Russian librarian from the 16th century burst in through the door and screamed so loud, that the main chandelier burst into a cloud of vapor; suddenly all was black and Mrs Mc Robinson felt completely free from her prior restraint. She felt like she could fly to the stars - and she almost did. But, being prepared for this, the librarian swiftly told her that this was all just a trick by the devil, and if she wanted to get through this night night alive she best do exactly as she say.

angels in the park

Angels, in different disguises, float around the block checking to see that everything is in order. When things get out of hand, they have a meeting in the park to figure out what to do. Most of the time they try to resolve the situation peacefully e.g., give potato chips to the troubled seagull, or ask the naughty crows to stop bullying the ducks. But sometimes they must use brute force and bring out the old M16, and simply blow everything to smithereens. This leaves us with the great questions: What is an angel, where do they come from, should we question their motives, or just accept they we may never be able to decipher their grand power? the hardest part though, is to know whether or not they love or hate us. Maybe the question of love and hate is not even relevant to an angle. quite possibly their just robots programmed to do god's/nature's/the abyss's bidding.

deep blue infinity

There is no good, there is no evil, there is only the deep infinite blue ocean; weighing all the weight in the world plus more. It moves and breaths beyond comprehension, it contains all the music that ever was and ever could be, it does not lie nor is it concerned with truth. It's very existence lets us stay afloat in this world. Thank you deep blue ocean, you are perfect in every way possible. You are my life and my death, my past and present. You reflect the sky, and through your pressure, keep the earths centre from exploding. you are every direction possible. You are the universe with an infinite horizon that lets us dream.

a carny's sacrifice for the good of mankind

Everyone is so exited when the carnival comes town. For a few weeks a year we can forget about our prison of an existence, we can cross dress in women's and men's clothing, be comforted and warmed by the salty smell of barn-animal droppings, and reminisce of a time when we frolicked free in the wild. The clowns make us laugh and the sideshow freaks remind us of how lucky we are that we're not like them. Oh, and the joy of the kiddies, who get ever so high on sugary pink fairy floss, and shake the contents of dinner around on the rides, only to vomit their guts out afterwards; cleansing their little souls and stomachs for the challenges ahead. The carnival and the circus, joy to thee... but let us not forget those Jesus type carnival folk, who sacrifice their wellbeing for the pleasure of us all. May they obtain a special place in heaven, and flourish as we repay our eternal debts.

sweets or cyanide

There are rocking horses of all shapes and sizes, to suite every desire and to cure all illnesses. But some of the rocking horses have to be kept secrete behind lock doors with no known keys, as they are really just clandestine operations to exterminate the weak, sick, and foreign type folk. If one looks closely enough, one can see that the microfibres are laced with all types of poisons that will no doubt kill the offspring of these selected folk. But, what should be noted, is that in rare cases it has the reverse effect on some of these mentioned offspring. If they rock back and forth long enough, they will start to regenerate, grow strong, and in the case of the foreign, rule over the weak and evolve into a dominating race who have the power to use sugar in lethal ways. so think about this the next time you eat sweet food.

sensual forbiddenness

Prancing around the local park, Mary and Glen felt they were on top of the world; for they didn't know that the world was about to abruptly end in 12minutes and 43 second. If they had of known this they might of been in terror, crying , tearing at each others flesh, running around like mad men; like a cats frozen in headlights the second before they are run over from 1000 kilo pieces of steel. Or perhaps not, perhaps they did know of their doom and it is this author who is in terror, because Mary and Glen are so relaxed in the face of death. Perhaps this author is Mary and Glen, and all together we are thrilled and terrified of existence and death. Or perhaps Mary is the one who is truly thrilled because she knows Glen will soon die, and Glen too is just as thrilled, because he knows Mary will soon die - as the both of them believe they will be soon united in a sensual forbidden type way with their secrete lover ****ME****

the old shed

The old, rustic, and forgotten shed would never forget the days of its previous glory and triumph. It was once a nobble and proud shed that gave shelter and refuge to millions - withstanding all the adversities that came its way. It took pride in its grand wooden smell, and always stood up for the smaller and less important smells, such as old birdshit that lingered in it's roof. This pride is the only thing keeping the shed alive these days, for if it did not have this, surly it would fall down and crumble into a shitty heap of old bird shit ridden rotted wood. But the cute and fury animals still give praise to the shed and still conduct their little rituals in the warm bosom of its wooden walls and cobble stone floor - blessed to thee, old warm shed, may we always love thee for all eternity.

traction

The traction resulting from hot, thick, and sweaty skin, joined to freshly tarred bitumen, made it almost impossible for maxwell to move himself off the middle of the road without completely peeling the skin off his body. He thought about asking a passing motorist for some engine coolant, or possibly even some spare ethanol, but the nasty, glancing eyes of the ongoing drivers made him think twice. So maxwell realised that his only option was to produce a tingling sensation that would un-grip his skin from the bitumen; as the tingling would create little bumps, which in turn would make air pockets, making it easier for the skin to detach. But if the tingling went too far, maxwells body would disperse altogether from its original form, and he would never be able to regain his old solid shape - forever having to float around as a cloud of disjointed vapour.

a dry bone

The bone was dry as a bone could be. So dry that it looked like it would start to go past the 180o mark of dryness into an inverse universe of wetness. Yes, a dry bone it was; waiting for the dogs tasty and salty saliva to moisten it’s dry, white, bony existence up. 

swaying leaves

The gentle, swaying leaves on the tree, were indifferent to the uncontrollable bursts of physical energy happening over the mountainside. They just swayed back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. Sometimes the dying leaves would sing in their whispery voice, then take the final leap - jumping off the tree and fading into black. But the leaves weren't phased, they were chill; like an easygoing Sunday on the beach, where one looses an icy-pole to the sand, but it just doesn't make any difference to the world; it just feeds the sand with some red sugary goodness... meanwhile the violent bursts of activity are forever happening over the mountainside.

Ice

Amanda krugensteign was a gracious secretary who walked and talked with the upmost elegance; always showing courtesy and respect to her fellow peers, co-workers, and family. But hidden behind this graciousness was a dark and suppressed longing to travel to a land far away, and harvest all of the earth's ice for own her pleasure and interests. She knew this would bring on the destruction of the planet, but deep in her heart she knew this is what she wanted - all the ice in the word, so much ice that she could freeze the universe and all its thoughts. she knew she would never be truly free nor happy until she got this ice.

Janet's dilema

Allen, the extraterrestrial was so damn sick of gravy that on numerous occasions he threatened to divorce his wife and move to the south coast,  where she would never tread for fear of chocking on the coastal pollen. Ever since that trip to planet earth's subcontinent, Janet just couldn't go a day without gravy - especially that chilli spice ridden gravy that she loved so so much. It made her alive, bought a forgotten vitality to her, and it was sexually re-awakening her. Janet knew if she stopped cooking gravy, she would not be able to stand making love to allen; but allen really can't handle eating curries.. what oh what is she to do?