Wow.......That was some of the most F@#@#D up S@@t I ever saw, funny.

At The DMV
First you rush to get there
and then wait,wait,wait

LOL that has happened to me before too..

OK cant we at least all agree that the Earth is the place where we keep all our stuff, and we need to keep a wayward eye upon Her? (and not to mention all our stuff).

some really powerful prose.......

And so it came to pass, that I,traveling abounds,came upon the wreckage of some large township,the walls were boulders and brittle pummeled pumice. there was a strong stench of some unknown agent akin to the rotten odour that emanates from time to time from the alchemical laboratories that operate out of some of the larger communities in the west of this giant land.A land that seems to go on forever. I was out of my element for sure.this story taking place well after I left the lands of stone castles and making my way slowly floating over the vast sulphorous ocean in a queer floating raft that was bequeathed by the strange tribe I stumbled upon and helped re-educate in the ways of coaxing the seed from the Earth in abundance. For even with the Knowledge of the strange dead, yet not dead, metal men that they coveted. they no longer seemed to remember the rituals of Earth and were slowly starving. So I took the strange humming vessel that ne'er touched the wet, and determined to cross the Ocean in search of new lands to travel. Cause LO! for one reason or another I seemed fated to never remain in one place for longer than a day in sight of where I slept the last(it's just as well for sleep and dreams seldom come to me these long strange days, alas).So over countless moons I travel, and rest or no, I travel again with the blinding dawns light.

So there I stood outside of this toppled graveyard of lost civilization and culture.Scratching my head I pondered My situation.
Rusting metals of countless varieties littered the almost too quiet,disintegrating crackling blackened roads. I thought to myself that there was enough metal here to arm the world with glaive and broadsword. then wondered how such a rich culture as this could perish like it had. Too quiet, not even the sound of birds nor the tiny, scurrying, furry feet of rodents could be discerned.I pulled my rawhide long coat from my ruck,donned it, then searched its pockets for the only thing I kept for my defense.I rummaged about till I found it. It was a long hollowed out piece of A rust proof and lightweight metal. the weird object was,(I had learned earlier from the strange sage of the wyss mountains. The one that lived in his giant glowing box of which it is whispered he has never come out of, and whose voice grumbled like gravel.)He told me that it was a digi-something weapon that was worn on the index finger and was repowered like the legendary fire-bird by the glowing rays of the suns light.I learned that by manipulating the finger inside of the hollow metal, that I was able to create a burning flash of light akin to a storms bolt,but without the sounds of the rolling thunder that accompanies such wet.

Placing the strange albeit subtle weapon upon my right index finger, I began to cautiously stroll through littered gartuan alleys.Sticking to the late days lengthening shadows when I could, I made my way deeper into the dead city.A city that began more and more to reminded me of the coastal indo-lands bizarre above ground graves gilded in their ancient tarnished silver. That is what this monster city should be, A gigantic grave of metal and mortar. I scanned a large structure in the distance, not as tall by far as some of the drooping metal towers of yore.This, large?( words like large or giant do it no justice)Dome was the one singulsr installation that appeared to be largely intact. as I made my way towards it I realized finally what had been bugging me about this place......No sounds of insects at all, and this decrepancy sent shivers of goosebumps along my flesh, until about three-hundred yards from the dome.then, that very sound I was missing just minutes before began to filter through my ears. It began to get more audibl,A sound like a plague swarm of 'frican locusts started in a rumbling bass like sound that seemed to vibrate the air around me and I knew I was about to find out what this now strengthening din was..........

See you next time for part 2 (sometime next week)


-S.R.R. Apr'12

Ok communal friends up next is another story poem(or as I like to call them Storems} featuring, if you hadnt already noticed,my traveler muse that happens to be the narrator in many of my short stories and poems. He trancends all time and dimensional space he simply is,has been and always will be. I have never named him(nor will I) but he had to have a title I suppose it would be the foundation Rock....hope that clears up any confusion before it happens cause the next storem takes place in a much more futuristic setting although the old style way of the writing will not change, hope you enjoy it.....
S.R.R. Apr'12

Ok here you go....A poetic tribute to the mothers of the world....just for you

The stone masons Goddess

when the children were first born unto this Earth,
It was the mother who tended them.
from the very first balmy pains of labor
the labor that will never stop again
food,warmth,and knowledge
these are the corner stones of culture
the original three that are one with the life-giver
woman, female, girl, all bearers of the word and the world
when she fell they carved her fecund likeness
out of the oldest rocks and stones of the world
the first stones, wept at her passing
but with life sacrificed so nobly and selflessly
She reached her work worn hands across the ages
and became idol and that eternal sparking flash of creation
that singular truth has never left us
for her memory was carved by tiny hands
so we would never forget

Moms of the world Happy Mothers' Day
if anyone deserves a day off, it is you
thanks for warmth and life and tiny hands and the knowledge you left us so we could use them.........

Great imagery man, and that my friend is the stuff that seperates the true poet from the Iambic Pentameter crowd....keep it up you got the spark, now just hold onto it.

One day deep in the bitterest, chilled Duldrums Of Winter,
back in my earliest days as a pilgrim of dirt,sand and cobbled paths
That I happened upon a monkly Friar,
and it was as stopping to greet this fellow traveler,
an Avowed and Monastic Holy Man in his own right,
That I noticed with mounting consternation and Horror,
that in the dread middling freeze of this wet miserable Season,
A Season I dare recall as one of the most stormed' and icy
That I can Remember of my days of seemingly endless plodding
upon those worn and ancient tracts.
So imagine my utter surprise and confusion
at seeing this wool garbed balding man walking SHOELESS,
trekking upon already dangerous Roads made Deadly,
by this whipping bastard Yule.
So it was that I came upon him and declared,
"Aye what brings A Man of the Cloth out into this frozen hell."
And LO!" said I." and near it is to the last setting of the distant winter Sun. that looming time of shade and dusk and you Brother with nary a stocking nor shoe upon your feet!"
It was at this time that the balding cherubic faced rose up to stare
at me from his thin thread-bare hood. and smiling he began to tell me
About the Blessing for Friars began by their patron to honor the memory of their churches founder.And so it was as I stood shivering in my many layers of clothes,that The Road Monk, seemingly unbent and unperturbed in his one layer of thin decaying wool began to chuckle quietly, and then, as if imparting a great secret he assailed me in a hushed and low voice"As A follower of the now cannonized Holy Saint Francis,the one whom had come from Assisi,I have learned one of the great mysteries of God."He continued."I have learned the greatest
blessing that can be gifted us by his heavenly wisdom."He paused a moment then, stamping the snow off of his unshod toes, and stopping continued."The best blessing of the Father unto the Son it was,and it is the same gift I now endure gladly in the Name of The Holy Spirit."He stopped.Then I piped in utterly flabbergasted." there is no thing blessed about this fouled Road Brother Monk."To which he then matter of factly replied."You see from what I have Gleaned from many Seasons of Life spent Praying and in study at the Monastery is thus"." Though perhaps to your way of thinking it may not seem fair,but I tell you now the Greatest Blessing the Father Gifted unto the Son Was His Suffering, and that is why you see me upon the Road
in this condition without complaint"."for what the greatest can suffer with dignity so can the lowest of us suffer and consider it a blessing to be walking so perfectly beside Him".I began again."that still explains not why you come upon this Road in such a condition"."
Why are you out here in this breathless cold,shoeless no less?"He studied my countenance a brief moment before finally Confessed his reasons."well,"he slowly began turning so red in the face I thought he might cry or rage, but then the tension melted away as he boomed with laughter."This is the time of year when the casks of dark ale we ceremonially brew are tapped".he paused again almost doubled over in roaring guffaws."you see, I maybe just might have had a wee bit much of the heady foamy stuff,and it being my turn to feed the sheeps their meager fare."he began again to chuckle." It turns out I was so F***in,bloody pissed that I forgot to close the stables up,and the sheep bloody well wandered off and with my Patron being the unavowed saintly protector of all Animals,you could see how I couldnt very well let one sheep astray let alone the whole cursed flock of them.So waking up shoeless and cold and brew-sick I did the only thing left for me I set out immediately without a moments wasting to range high and low for the wooly baggers. where you now find me humbly before you.I suppose I must have gotten used to the cold somewhere along the way after all".And here he paused one final time." this is the worst winter in living memory and I have had to walk all of it, for the day I left marked the first day of this winter and i have been out in it every step since"." And not a sight nor even the tiniest peep outta those little sheep,I hope THEY at least are warm and comfortable." And then with not another sound he began to walk on and away and for all I know he is still out there,shoeless,chasing that lost flock.......

Always it seems to me,
to come to Pass,
that tis in those melted Candle Stubbed times,
of great Looming Darkness,
Lo! for tis In those Blind and Silent Moments,
that your Words come to me the loudest.
it is in those dreary ages of sightless baiting breathing,
as i Huddled hunkering down in Terrified Acceptance
that your whispered words long carried off by the foul winds of entropy
carry back upon etheric winds through impossible dimensions
to Settle Back into the Rushes around me
you Speak to me at those Times often,
A Merciful Succor to the Downtrodden
like a ghostly comforting Light
that Banishes those quieter places,
that Hide spryly tween Lost and vaulted Vales
where the innocuous shadows of your Actions,
Play out their Kettle Drums upon scorched Walls.
your Fortitude Steels itself like bar'red Iron
Smiling out like coal-covered Braces
Bare, and Simple, yet Tightly Streched
Supporting this illusionary Masonry
its own Load Bore up
by it's very own, Unearthly,
Pale and Ancient, Circumference. -S.R.R. Apr.'12

i,
the tired Smith whom beats and hammers his Words in the Night
Fear Me,
Fear Me Not,
i do Not care.
for Words set down upon the deep and royal purple shades of night
Always seem to have there Way,
To come into the light.
-S.R.R. Apr'12


Time Heals All Wounds,
Time Wounds All Heals......
But Wounds Time........ALL HEALS

Once,
in those long trodden upon and nigh half forgotten times of youth
as I sat, (to gather up my weary strength from the frail footsteps
of the long traveled roads that lay behind me)
I, oddly enough found mine tired resting bones
at the very gutters bottom of that daunted and e'er looming
craggy and countenanced hilly mount
Then, as I gathered my worn senses about me,
I spied far above the washed out and now dried melt off of winter,
not Moon,nor Sun, nor Endless Starry Night
But 'stead a slowly spreading crimson rosed glowing
in slow, measured, creeping, monotony,
I beheld that and there partook
of what was truest and terrible Divinity
the shadowed fingers of a Thousand Nations
in a cataclysmic fleeting flow
Staring Down Me
And burned e'er upon my soul deep in it's darkest throes
Staring Down Me
STARING DOWN ME!
as there I Sat,
Simply Below. _-S.R.R Apr. '12

"Of Malfeasance and utter despondent malignancy
I Know Nothing,
Just Walking through the Wake,
Sand curled betwixt my toes,
As suddenly swirling about me
I can Feel the Tides Turning."
-S.R.R. Dec'11

To Knowledge I speak
tied down, dusted o'er
Until.....
Like a rare bird of phantasmic,
and unearthly, glorious brilliance.
The Wings begin to slowly and carefully spread,
into Dawning Skies of Brightly Glowing Azure.....
AHA! TAKE OFF!
-S.R.R Nov.'11

You, whom have let me stand upon the mount,
to gain a safe look, a sheltered peek.
Though I understand you not.
I thank you. for your Honesty.
For one single, solitary look...
Was all that was required.
To see the True Path,
unfolding quietly before me.
-S.R.R. Nov. '11