The 10th Crusade

 

The specter seemed to hang in the air, reflecting any light that crossed its path focusing everywhere but there making it all the more obvious, but for the others it just looked confusing.

"I know how it works, that's why I won't get under it." 

Standing in a building that was built to fall the fabian way is not intelligent, unless you're running in to grab some one you love to get them out...

Broken systems with a youth that think they know everything and have been taught only evil. 

It's August 2026 and it's a shit show across the globe, as it is supposed to be. 

Note, I said before and I say again now the white paper read the time line moved from 30 to 28.

I'm getting a signal that's not so funny as I watch a Cardinal shake its tail feathers in a bird bath while the hawks learning to catch their prey flock overhead. 

For the August record

Islam has found a foothold in the communist movements, which have become quite the bonfire to put out, if it even can be now. A foothold is how you steer your horse power and they did it long ago with the stirrups on a horse and now the horsepower is the American tax dollar filtered into special funds. 

Saudi Arabia (also Islam, but also different) just signed a treaty with Pakistan (Islam) and Turkey (also Islam-until it's not again). 

I was in thought of Rainbush the other day as I made one of our families favorite whole chicken curry stews. He was of rust and ash brown of color, his hair jet black and he always wore white loose pants with a long white tunic. He belonged to a Pakistani family. Yazmin's husband worked at the Seeb airport while we were there. He was under the direction of the International Civilian Aviation Organization/FAA and most importantly the United Nations. 

Cardamon, cinnamon and coriander waft through the air.

Be still and listen 

One day I will tell you a story

A bit of pirate calling here and there 

Wise men and mur

Coffers with winged birds

Light the situation for there to there

A structure put together for the small g gods was built to hold them, and then it cracked and I gathered the pieces and now I hold them at my stead, until I don't.

Transit Ports

 

Humans, cells growing in a myriad of human ways, fat deposits here, thin muscle structures there. Tall, short, quick and slow. Minds different than one another, some purposely move while the lost flounder about.

A woman whose skin so wrinkled she might have been mistaken for a crocodile skunk chimeric creature. She shows off as much skin as she can in a low trust world of self involved pariahs. Others skin youthful, some tight some fluffy their midriffs for all sorts of strange manner of men to stare into the mysterious middle of the female. 

One woman with long strands of oblong oval tufts of unnatural hair glued to her head, like Medusa but not pretty like a priestess of Athena, nothing with fangs and certainly no depth.

A man with coke bottle bottoms for glasses, his epilates the tell he is one of the pilots that pass through the paths, ways and roads.

Through the clouds and over head each one separate and all aboard, Inshallah they make it.

Just normal regular everyday people, who unbeknownst the temperature be rising. 

Be still and listen 

One day I will tell you a story

The round face with copper fire hair raised from a glass, where x marks a spot and crimson libations tickle the throat. 

The Headless Horseman

 

His head unseen from the neck up, the question should be if movement is intelligent from a headless being perhaps we say the head you can’t see as everything isn’t a chicken without its head, you just can’t see it. 

Be still and listen 

One day I will tell you a story

Skull 4

 

“Get the largest skull from the pile, clean it and fill it to the rim with the finest wine and bring it to my mother!” The hard dark deep voice said loudly. 

The mother could have yet one cup of wine. Make it best by filling it full as you drink from your enemies skull, is how he thought of it. His mother would always have the best of the best. 

The largest skull now disembodied had held up what was a human face once, ripped off and thrown to the ground to mingle with bodies and pieces, horses and such.

He hadn’t been a large man or great man, he had had a large cranium though. It wasn’t that he hadn’t taught hard enough or well enough, his thread had been cut. His skull had an afterlife purpose. 

Skull 1

 

“You’ve made a grave mistake” the disembodied voice hit something he didn’t understand. What he didn’t understand is that  after they administered the paralyzing agent, he was still alive. The contract was clear, his whole body would be donated to something he believed in completely, Science. What he didn’t know was everything Science didn’t know plus much more and they wanted to know more.

His body paralyzed on the measly cushioned bed, his heart rate so slow the paramedics thought him dead. The man with the bonnet over his hair, an underbite and a chain from his neck wheeled him back into the room four doors to the left down a hallway, he would have said took 32 steps to the door. 

He could feel, he couldn’t move. 

Blurs and fogs went by

He felt hungry

Blurs and fogs went by

He felt alone 

Blurs and fogs went by

He felt needing

He couldn’t move, he could only feel. 

What is time.

There was quiet for a bit

Then a shock

“Whaat!?” Confusion 

“Everything is normal, it’s all confusion.”

It wasn’t confusion for all, just a few sum. 

He could feel.

His skull was being split in two, it hurt, he could say nothing. The universe heard …

New moon 26

He couldn’t move his eyes, his fingers or toes, he was paralyzed, his lungs gurgled. He had never been scared like he was now. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t tell them he couldn’t breath. He had agreed to the terms and there was no going back, this was death, the final end, and he signed up.

The lights turned on slowly but there were no clear lines. 

“You’ve made a grave mistake.” The sound came from a disembodied voice, no pressure on any letter, just a flat notice. 

“You’ve made a grave mistake.”

Life is over now, this is a new program 

Time isn’t linear

Life is over now, this is a new project 

He couldn’t move. 

Silence

 

Catholic schism again and somemore

Jimmy walks in with a constant push of oxygen into his system

“Computer machine thingamamobob, can you hear me?”

Silence

“Hey Computer, open microphone”

Silence

“Do you think the Captain has this problem?

Silence

It’s about the journey Captain.