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David Walker Dec 2012
Origins
written and directed
by
David Walker

Inspired
by
the films of
Quentin Tarantino
David Lynch
&
Rob Zombie

There is method
To his madness

                                                        ­                                                                 ­                  January 2013              
                                              ­                                                                 ­                       first draft









1. EXT. Run down project apartment complex - 3:00 am

A dark, tall figure with long black hair and a trenchcoat opens the already cracked red door.

MAN:
I'm looking for love in all the wrong places.

                                                        ­                                                                 ­                                       CUT TO:
INT. Apartment 3

A typical roach infested apartment with a kitchen built into the living room. 3 GIRLS are on the kitchen floor. GIRL # 1 one has black hair with big lips and a curvy frame and she is wearing a pair of Tripp pants and a black bra barely covering her ample *****. She has a flesh colored rubber hose tied to her left arm. GIRL # 2 has dyed rainbow colored hair, a nice smile, and a skinny frame. She is wearing a pair of tore blue jeans with smiley faces and cute in jokes written on them, also not wearing a shirt with a lacy blue bra on. She has a spoon with water and black tar ****** inside it which she is heating up with a silver Zippo with the word "Skittles" engraved into it. GIRL # 3 Has long naturally red hair, glasses and an extremely voluptuous figure. She is wearing tight black pants and a black shirt with thin sleeves. She is inspecting a covered syringe with an unsure look in her eyes.

GIRL # 2:
So, do you wanna do it or not Jane?

Snatches the syringe out of JANE's hand.

JANE:
I'm not sure. How long have you been doing this ****?

Girl #2 takes the orange cap off the syringe revealing a small needle.

GIRL #2:
Since after I graduated. About 3 years. Liz you ready?

LIZ:
As ready as I am for dat sweet tang!

Girl #2 giggles. She sticks the needle into Liz's arm, blood mixes with the brown fluid inside, and she pushes the plunger down. Liz leans back into Girl #2's arms and Girl #2 gives her a kiss.

LIZ:
I love you, Julia.

JULIA:
Well, I love you too.

JANE:
You guys are so gay!

(OS):
Save that **** for the ******* customers!

                                                     ­                                                                 ­                                       CUT TO:
Other side of room. A greasy looking MAN with short faded black hair and a scar going from the corner of his mouth to the right ear is sitting in a beat up recliner cleaning his Uberti 1873 Cattleman revolver while smoking a fat blunt and watching some kind of high budget **** with Sasha Grey in it.

JULIA:
Sorry, Mike. It didn't stop you from leaving me and Liz unsatisfied and bored, did it?

LIZ and JULIA laugh. JANE has a nervous look in her eyes.

MIKE:
Very ******* funny you wore out trick! Am I gonna have to smack the sass out yo mouth?

MIKE gets up, puts out his blunt and walks over to the GIRLS gun in hand.

MIKE:
Or am I gonna have to give your little friend a scar like mine.

LIZ:
Mike don't!

MIKE SLAPS JULIA with the side of his UNLOADED revolver and grabs JANE by her hair.

MIKE:
Who the **** are you, anyways *****?

JANE:
(stuttering)
I was walking down the street earlier today and I ran into Julia and Liz. They went to school with my sister I think. Let me go!

MIKE:
So you're a young'n. Well you have some nice big *******!

MIKE RIPS off her shirt exposing her *******. He begins to squeeze the right one. JANE SLAPS MIKE HARD!

MIKE:
*****!

MIKE lets go of her hair. Jane runs to the other room grabbing her shirt. LIZ stumbles towards him and PUNCHES him in the nose.

MIKE:
That's it! You little *** dumpsters are dead!

MIKE picks up the REVOLVER, runs to the chair where the bullets are and tries to reload. JULIA wakes from her daze. We see him load 3 rounds. All of a sudden the DOOR gets broken down and the dark clad FIGURE from the scene before pulls out a BERETTA M9 with a silencer attachment. MIKE FIRES 2 shots at him haphazardly missing both. The MAN LAUGHS and FIRES one shot that MIKE's crotch catches.

                                                       ­                                                                 ­                                       CUT TO:
2. INT. Next door in Apartment 2.

A MAN and WOMAN in their early 40's are smoking a joint and seem disturbed by the gunfire.

MAN:
(coughing)
What the hell was that?

WOMAN:
Sounded like gunshots. Do you think we should call the cops?

MAN:
**** no! There is a pound of chronic in the bedroom closet! Just pray whoever it is doesn't come over here!

WOMAN:
Okay. Are you gonna pass that?

                                                          ­                                                                 ­                                     CUT TO:
3. INT. Apartment 3.

The smoke has cleared. MIKE is begging for death and BLEEDING out everywhere, JULIA is in a daze, dumbfounded by what she just witnessed, LIZ is cowering in fear, crying, and JANE just came out of the bedroom with her TORN SHIRT on and a terrified "Oh my God" expression. The unknown assailant has a devilish grin upon his face.

MIKE:
Godfuck! **** me you sunuvabitch! Godda--

The MAN obliges. He fires a single shot into his RIGHT EYE.

MAN:
Well, looks like I got here in the nick of time!

JULIA:
(blankly)
W-Who the **** are you?

MAN:
That is of little importance right now. Who are you foxy ladies?

JULIA:
M-My name's Julia. That girl over there (points to Liz) is Liz, and the ginger is Jane.

MAN:
What pretty names! Well, I have a question. Will you three lovely young ladies gather round that despicable looking chair and listen to what I have to say, or are you going to run? Keep in mind I have rope in my trenchcoat and the fact I mean you no harm. I am just a lonely man with a story to tell, and the way I see it, what with that bruise on your sweet face, you kinda owe me.

JULIA:
I think we can stay. I just wanna know your name.

MAN:
Ahh, but I am a man of many names. My christian name is Derek. You don't need the last for now.

DEREK walks to the chair and sits down. He waves the GIRLS over.

DEREK:
C'mon I just want to tell my tale. Look, I will put the gun under the chair as a sign of good faith that neither you girls or I will start shooting the place up again. Are we square ladies?

JULIA:
What do ya say guys?

They gather in the kitchen.

LIZ:
This guy has a ***** loose.

JULIA:
Yes, but he saved us from our ****. We should humor him.

JANE:
I think he is hot!

LIZ and JULIA just stare at JANE.

JANE:
Sorry, but he is.

JULIA:
So it's agreed. We will listen to his story, silently pray he doesn't **** us and leave afterwards.

The GIRLS walk to the chair. DEREK has lit the blunt.

DEREK:
Ahh, so you have decided to join me. Good. Do you guys wanna hit this?

LIZ and JULIA shake their heads no.

JANE:
I will.

DEREK:
Great. Now, where do I begin. I suppose everybody's roots stem from childhood, so lets go back, oh say, 20 years ago.

                                                           ­       FADE TO BLACK        
Against black, TITLE CARD

October 15th 1995.

                                                          ­                       CUT TO      
4. EXT. Suburbia circa 1995.

There are three boys between the ages of 6 and 9 playing in front of a grey HOUSE with a white MINIVAN in the driveway. Little DEREK is a scrawny 6 year old boy with short brown hair and a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles action figure in his hands. The 2 other BOYS ages 7 and 9 are picking on him and trying to take away DONATELLO.

DEREK:
Leave me alone or I will whoop your ****.

BOY #1:
Whatever! You are scrawny and lame. Give us your Ninja Turtle now or we will beat you up!

BOY #2 picks up a STICK and starts hitting DEREK with it.

BOY #2:
What are you going to do? Get your daddy? Oh, wait...that's right, you don't have one!

The 2 BULLIES start laughing. A look of hatred fills young DEREK's eyes. He catches the STICK and slaps BOY #2 in the face with it. He then tackles him and starts beating him mercilessly. BOY #1 runs towards the PORCH and knocks on the DOOR. DEREK'S MOM answers. She is in her mid 30's with brown hair and casual clothing on, smoking a cigarette and drinking a cup of "coffee."

BOY #2:
Derek's beating up Josh again!

DEREK'S MOM:
Well, good for him! Bet that little pecker snot deserved it too. Now, Brad...why don't you take you and your friend on home before I tell your dad you play with Barbies.

LATE 20'S DEREK:
(OS)
My mother was a sweet ol' broad!

BRAD:
(sighs)
Okay, Ms. Walters, but you do know you are going to have to pull him offa Josh right?

DEREK'S MOM:
(sighs like Brad)
I suppose.

DEREK'S MOM and BRAD walk to the front yard and GASP when they notice that DEREK has knocked out 2 of JOSH'S baby teeth, both in the front and broke his nose, which is bleeding profusely.

DEREK'S MOM:
Derek Charles Walters! Get the **** up offa him!

DEREK:
(crying)
He hit me with a stick!

DEREK'S MOM:
Well, now I'm about to!

She picks up the STICK and beats his *** with it several times.

DEREK:
******* *****!

DEREK'S MOM, infuriated throws the stick down and SLAPS him across the face. DEREK runs away.
He runs to a wooded area in the back yard as far as his legs can take him.

LATE 20'S DEREK:
(OS)
Do not weep, for on that day, I met God and Satan incarnate and it turns out they existed singularly in my head.
                                                           ­                                                                 ­                          CUT TO:

5. JANE:
Like a conscience?

DEREK:
Much more. These guys are in the room right now and only I can see him. Satan led me to you guys tonight! Who knows what kind of CRAZY hijinks are in store!

JULIA:
That's it I'm outta here! C'mon gu--

DEREK fires of his M9 1 time.

DEREK:
Now, listen to me you dykey, ****** *****. I have 3 more rounds in this ******* and one
of them is reserved for you if you don't sit your tight *** back down.

JULIA sits back down scared to death. DEREK regains his composure and is "all smiles" again.

DEREK:
Phew! I don't want to hurt anybody. I just want someone pretty to listen to my ******* story. ****, if you want, I will ask you guys about yourself later on, but for now I'm going to introduce you to my best friends.

JANE:
Who are they again?

DEREK:
Ah, you were trying to pay attention. I will remember that. They go by many names. One can be called "God", "Heroic Harry", "The White Knight", whatever you envision as good, this **** is it. He is the reason you guys are still alive.

LIZ:
And the other?

DEREK:
Ahh, him. He can go by "Satan", "The ******", "The Angel of Death." He's the reason ol' crusty here no longer bothers you.

LIZ:
So you're basically ape ****, right?

DEREK:
Pretty much! Now where was I? Ah...yes

                                                       ­                                                                 ­                                    CUT TO:

6. INT. Small wooded area behind the house --- Early evening.

DEREK has made himself a nice little HANGOUT in the woods! there is a trunk with tons of comics in it, an arsenal of sharpened sticks and rocks, Batman action figures, and a Game Boy Color. He is drawing a picture at the moment.

LATE 20'S DEREK:
(OS)
There I was in my element. ****** at my mother, then all of a sudden, a deep, angelic voice rang out.

VOICE #1:
(OS...of course)
You don't have to hate her, you know. She loves you.

LATE 20'S DEREK:
(OS)
And then another, this voice sounding more playful and mischievous then the other.

VOICE #2:
(OS)
But, for how long? Do you think she meant to have you?

DEREK:
Where are you guys?

LATE 20'S DEREK:
(OS)
And then they appeared.

A 13 YEAR OLD BOY with BROWN hair and a FLANNEL overshirt over a Nirvana T-SHIRT with baggy torn blue JEANS with stains on them appears.

BOY #1:
Don't hate your mom.

VOICE #2:
(OS)
But, watch her close.

DEREK turns his head. We see another BOY roughly the same age with slightly long BLACK hair and a TRENCHCOAT over a Nine Inch Nails T-SHIRT with tight black CHICK PANTS with a CHAIN leading from his pocket to his BELT. He has a lip piercing and he is smoking a cigarette.

DEREK:
Who are you guys?

BOY #1:
Just think of us as older brothers your mom can't see.

DEREK:
Wow! I should introduce you guys to my friends!

BOY #2:
No!

DEREK:
Why not?

BOY #2:
You are the only person that can see us. Don't go telling anyone and don't talk to us in front of anyone. People will think you are nuts!

BOY #1:
Think of us as two ghosts that give you advice. Don't listen to him though, he'll get you in trouble.

BOY #2:
Shut up! Or I will kick your *** again.

BOY #1:
Not in front of him. He doesn't need to see that ****. Not now

DEREK:
What are your names?

BOY #1:
That's up to you.

DEREK:
I'll call you Joe, and him Jerry.

JOE:
Works for me, for now. Call us whatever you feel like calling us whenever you like. If you wanna call me ******* and him poophead, go right ahead.

DEREK:
Okay, but for now you guys are Joe and Jerry.

JOE:
We are going to leave now. We will show up when we think the time is right. Sometimes you will see us others you won't, but we are always with you.

JERRY:
Even when you ****.

                                                          ­                                                                 ­                     CUT TO:
7. INT. Apartment 3.

LATE 20'S DEREK:
And then I went back home and they disappeared. I reconciled with my mom and for the next few weeks I didn't see them. Brad started hanging out with me again and school was good. The years go by and still no sight of them. 4 years pass by. It's 1999 and my tastes changed. Instead of Ninja Turtles and Batman it was KISS and Freddy Krueger. By this point me and Josh had made up and Brad was in middle school. And so we go to where me and the voices meet again.

8. INT. Taft Elementary
A class of roughly 25 children in your average 5th grade home room with a stout middle aged gentleman teaching. JOSH and DEREK are in the back row sitting side by side.

TEACHER:
...And that's how the metric system works.

JOSH:
(to Derek)
Dude, did you check out RAW last night? The Undertaker crucified Stone Cold!

DEREK:
**** I missed it. I was doing homework.

JOSH:
(loud)
****!!

TEACHER:
What did you say Mr. Jarvis?

JOSH:
Sorry Mr. Cannib. I forgot to do my homework.

MR. CANNIB:
Josh, Derek, outside!

LATE 20'S DEREK:
(OS)
The old man had taken kids out of the classroom before and they always came back with tears in their eyes. As we walked outside I heard a familiar voice.

JERRY:
(OS)
If he touches either of you, kick him in the nuts!

MR. CANNIB:
I told you boys too many times! None of this **** in my classroom! Josh get over here you little *****!

OL' TEACH GRABS JOSH by the NECK.

DEREK:
Hey ******* keep your hands to yourself!

CANNIB begins to throttle JOSH. DEREK pushes him off of JOSH and KICKS the TEACHER in the nuts with FURY about 3 times and jumps on top of him while JOSH watches holding his neck.

JERRY:
(OS) While we see Derek's mouth moving

Look here, *******. You think you can be called a teacher for drinking on a farm, ******* cattle and beating children so you can have Summer vacation every year? *******, you spiteful sad man.

DEREK SPITS in the *******'S face and begins to PUNCH him when JOSH pulls him off.

JOSH:
Dude, the door outta here is right there. Lets go to our lockers, get our **** and get outta here.

DEREK:
(Breathing heavily)
Did I just do that? What the ****? Let's get out of here...now!

                                                    ­                                                                 ­                                           CUT TO:
9. EXT. Taft Elementary
A bunch of playground equipment next to an alley with a fenced in field. JOSH and DEREK are walking down the alley. It is sunny outside but about to rain.

DEREK:
That wasn't me that did that.

JOSH:
If it wasn't you who was it?

DEREK:
It w...

JOSH:
(Interrupting)
It reall
Justin Gabrielle Oct 2015
VII
int. bed

you can't remember when you woke up. dragged and feeling drugged, you spend your days in a state of being half-awake. life has become too bothersome.

int. living room

afternoons where the light enters the jalousie windows has always been a delight. it's probably a good thing you are still delighted by some of the little things in this world.

ext. stairs

at a young age, you've hurt others (unintentionally?) and learned how to lie, trying to save yourself from the annoyance and shame of being physically and emotionally hurt. you sly devil, you.

ext. the yard

there's a faucet left open, creating a stream where the leaves and dirt are washed away into the sewers. the water's flow is perfect for launching paper boats to their one-way trip to nowhere.

int. bathroom

the dark green tiles of the room is growing increasingly dark thanks to the amount of cigarettes you smoke inside, trying to know peace by locking yourself in cramped space. it does not help.

ext. the streetlamp outside the gate

cold kisses from the wind soothe you after rounds of tomorrow's regret. beneath the pale moon, you dance with your shadow, alone, miserable but happy. the recurring sadness brought on by these nights has been a part of your life for so long that you welcome it with open arms like a friend.
Lawrence Hall Feb 2019
This letter, is to inform you, about a
bomb threat
that we received this, morning. Name of a Name
Unified Consolidated ISD,
a State-Recognized School of Somethingness,
Where Kids Come First under the theme of
All The Kids All The Curriculum All The Time
is committed, to the safety and education
of all our students and We Are Number One,
Go #Thundercatbears!, ‘Cause We are #All-Hashtagged
in Unity and Oneness. We also, want
to clearly communicate with split infinitives
And crazy commas all over the place
to parents about safety issues when they
get found out arise.

This morning, a phone call, was received,
by the receptionist at

The-Latest-Name-Held-in-Place-with-Velcro-Until-the-Next-Name-C­hange
Elementary School and Essential Spirit
Dreams New Dawn Progress Learning and
Technology Center of the Future

stating a

bomb

was present, on the campus.
After conferring with the Threat Assessment Team,
The Standard Response Protocol team,
the Chinkypin-Lizard Lick Police Department parked in the handicapped spaces at Tia Jolene’s Goremay Eats ‘n’ Bokays out next to the Interstate,
the cheerleader sponsors,
Facebook,
Twitter,
our attorneys,
and Superintendent Dr. Hamestus Goodoleboy “Spike” Ponsonby III,
the students were rapidly, and efficiently evacuated
to a safe area up in the football bleachers
where they would be more obvious targets
and the school was professionally and thoroughly
swept for anything suspicious and untoward.
During this time,

when no students were in danger,

another call was received stating that  gunshots
were fired in the school. There were no gunshots,
fired in the school and

no children were in danger at any time.

Currently, we’re are is allowing students,

who were never in any danger,

to return to school as usual

where there was never any danger at any time.

We will have extra counselors and therapists available
if students or parents needs supports are
counsolining in spelling ‘n’ sentence structure.

The students were never in any danger at any time.

All threats to our school where

their was never any danger

and students who were never in any danger

will be taken seriously immediately
and thoroughly and investigated
thoroughly and fully except for that call
last week that we managed to keep covered up.
We wanted to inform you of the correct facts
because our correct facts are the only facts
so you can discuss them with your child/ren
Of any race, ***, color, creed, religion,
or gender identification or not
and emphasize the seriousness of our facts,
which are the only facts. If you discover
Any facts untoward or out of place please contact us
At the district office at
*** *** xxxx ext ***
or the Chinkypin - Lizard Lick Police Department
immediately and thoroughly.

No children were in, danger at any time.
Your ‘umble scrivener’s site is:
Reactionarydrivel.blogspot.com.
It’s not at all reactionary, tho’ it might be drivel.

Lawrence Hall’s vanity publications are available on amazon.com as Kindle and on bits of dead tree:  The Road to Magdalena, Paleo-Hippies at Work and Play, Lady with a Dead Turtle, Don’t Forget Your Shoes and Grapes, Coffee and a Dead Alligator to Go, and Dispatches from the Colonial Office.
Sam Greig-Mohns Feb 2014
Whatever happened to those days
when 2 good friends was enough
4 was pushing your ability to see them all in a week
and more then you could count on one hand meant you were that kid with more money then social skills

What happened to picking up the phone
going 24 hours without texting someone
or god forbid
leaving the house without your cellphone, tablet, E-reader... ext... ext

Where did the enthusiastic answer Hell ya! go?
when was is swallowed up by the strange awkward silence usually following the question

Are you busy?

When was it converted into a hesitant and half hearted lie

I'll message you on Facebook...

When did the world start revolving around spray on tans
because no one goes outside anymore

When was LIFE exchanged for online credit
birthday reminders for people you've never met
high scores that wont matter tomorrow, or even 10 seconds from now

Farmville, Mafia wars, Bejeweled

and loneliness...
KingOmar69 Sep 2013
Fade in: Ext. Theater - Day
Cue clouds: gray shrouds
blanket the sky
and the sun's last remaining rays
Cut to: Ext. Theater - Noon
Cue crowd: no sound,
no song comprise
the mise en scene
of this somber scene
Fade in: Int. Theater - Night
Cue sound: few gasps,
some oohs and ahhs,
some cries comprise
the mise en scene
of this joyous scene
Cut to: extreme close up
Their eyes reflect the faces on the screen:
Newman, Hoffman, Brando, Ledger
Pacino, De Niro
Penn, Caine, Dean
Fade out
Harsh Oct 2012
F* ickle summer [and general] pass-time. Though you hardly
A cknowledge me, I meditate on the virtual probability of our
N on-existent romance, incessantly. Just as I make an effort to
A ttempt to bury you in a dark corner of my subconciousness, *you

T ext me! Once again giving me just enough attention so that I'm
I ndifferent to your self-centred, egoistic, promiscuous nature and
C ompletely falling for you instead, as I've done, since the day we first met.
This poem is the sole property of me and cannot be copied or used without permission. [Copyright G.H. Rodrigo 10/10/2011]
In my ears,
I hear bells and in
the church they are whispering
I cannot listen in because  
the bells keep on ringing,
they may be the harps that are
Angelic hearts or it could be
the Devil who is
bringing me home.
Nina McNally Feb 2015
Now here we are, what have we become?
Our world is not like it use to be... It's
Very messy now, and people not caring. What happen here?
Our world needs our help! What happen to this
Culture? We were suppose to be the dreamers
And  the creators, but wait!! It's not too late.
If* we start now, we could still save our world and maybe the
Next generation can do better; *learn from our mistakes.

Everyone: We're all in this together!!

*Together we can change our future!
Written on February 18th, 2015
©McNally, Inc.
Title and inspiration (as always) from Fall Out Boy
Just something I wrote tonight before I head off to bed.
B J Clement Jun 2014
I slept like a log, inspite of the pains from my blistered feet. Harry woke me at six thirty. "Time for breakfast, better jump to it or i'll tickle your feet."  The thought of that was enough to set me in motion. After breakfast we assembled for role call beside the waiting coaches. Then we boarded, and left the camp heading for the airfield. Every one was expecting to fly from RAF Lyneham, we had heard that we would be flying in the new Dehavilland Comet, the first passenger jet. It was not to to be. The comet had crashed into the sea, there were no survivors!
Instead of that, we were driven to a remote airfield in Wiltshire, I believe it was called Cliff Pypard,  there we boarded an ageing hastings transport and set off into the wide blue yonder heading on a more southerly bearing than one would expect for a flight to Germany.
I tried to keep an eye on our progress by following coastlines, it was difficult, clouds obscured much of the coast line. I had the definite feeling that we were travelling in a South Easterly direction, and I asked one of the aircrew about it. "Don't worry, I expect we'll take a turn to the north soon." A little later, I suddenly realized that we were flying over the Med- Germany via the Med, never in this world!!
We ate chicken wings lettuce and bread for lunch, still flying at a steady one hundred and eighty miles an hour at mid day, below us dessert! We were all confused. Where on earth were we going?
Our first stop was at a place called Idris, it was an airstrip in the Libyan desert. There was nothing there only tents, and a place to refuel. I was a squalid stinking dump, and that was all. We left early the following morning after a laughable breakfast that no one ate. Our ext stop was a similar one but even more so, It was a place alled Habanya, I think, I went to use one of the two toilet's and discovered that the horrible brown stains in the toilets were actually enormous heaving masses of huge cockroaches, I went out into the desert insted. when I got back to our tent I was told off. "this place is crawling with snakes, don't stray about!" we didn't need telling twice! The tents were just as bad, infested with huge spiders, no one slept. We were glad to leave it.
neth jones Nov 2015
EXT - SUMMER NIGHT - THE INCLOSED COURTYARD OF A CONDEMED HOUSING BUILDING

I'm on a balcony on the third floor. I'm on my own. It's my first time trying Salvia. It's a mild form. The experience lasts approx 10 mins. I feel timid and tired afterward. It took strength not to leave my position on the balcony over the railing.
The Shudder Naughts
And Shutter Doors Fury
And The Violent Folds
And God Commands
And Violent Slams
Of The Deathening
Loud Slips
Of This Short Burn In Reality
TigerEyes Apr 2015
Beyond the meadow near a wooded field
a long held mystery was revealed
                               a key...
                                       a map...
                                             a hidden door...
were all just waiting to be explored.

A small hand reaches for the key unlocking magic for a child to see...
                                      the map...
                                             the door
                                                   begin to glow
to a whispering voice...
                                      "There's more to know"
Enter
Lilith a child of nine who's convinced she's lived a million times...
Enter
Fairies            
                                       fluttering around from right to left....
                                       guiding her toward the path that's best.

An angel whispers once again...
                                       "Careful of creatures disguised as friends"
Narrator
A force,
           or -- hand,
                     began to pull her in
                                              and, soon she began to fall, and spin.

And so the journey now begins ...
                                    Lilith wakes in Faraway
                                              
a place she dreamed to go one day.

EXT. Faraway - NIGHT

FADE IN:

Narrator

Lilith see's creatures crawling everywhere
                                         they all have green eyes, and purple hair...

                                                   TO BE CONTINUED
This poem/story concept is copyrighted and stored in author base. All material subject to Copyright Infringement laws
Section 512(c)(3) of the U.S. Copyright
Act, 17 U.S.C. S512(c)(3), Krisselle S. Cosgrove April 13th, 2015

Thank you for reading. This is a creative writing exercise. I'm going to keep adding onto this story  ~ when the muse strikes.
Nyaituga Nov 2021
her lips curl upward
in the corners
on each side
so when she smiles
it's like her mouth
is coming home to rest

it isn't forced
it isn't work
just ease
delectable ease

her arms are soft and rounded
her frame is short and full
no sharp angles, no wide hips
still, woman, all the same

perhaps, her femininity
Is found in something else
it isn't in her body
but in the way she holds it
Rafael Melendez Nov 2017
Today a man spoke to me; a drunkard, telling me what I should and shouldn't do. A part of me felt like a child again. Responding to others with that silence, they barely mean a thing in that moment.
Once I got home, I couldn't help but think about who he thought he was, what reason he had to tell me this. Out of want for respect, decency? In a world full of drunkards, murderers, perversions, and death.
Insanity pocketed in beings who believe they are sane, telling others that they should also be sane.
Tellmewhatthatis.
Another language.
A shape.
A joke.
A man who stumbles through life, for the next alcoholic fix, until his eventual death.
No one would care in the end. They all speak the same careless language at the end of the days. We sleep alone with ourselves regardless of who is there.

So what would be the point of me listening.
Why should I feel ashamed of doing something I wanted to do, when we're all going to die someday?
Who are you?
Savanna Thompson Aug 2014
no one understands how much pain im in, how badly I want to end my life and just ****** give up. I understand ive ****** up and made many mistakes with my life... (drugs, drinking, sneaking out, ext.) however im sick of the bashing and hateful things. im old enough to know better but young enough not to give a **** so stop!
(A)bove the church were golden bells.
(N)ext to it was the finest sight, a hunch-back belle.
(N)ested in a tower of cobwebs and dusty shelves.
(E)xcept no one new that she was a princess walking among our common selves.

(C)arved within her heart is a beauty without comparison.
(U)nsuspectingly she can bust you out and then throw you to a jail garison.
(R)eclaimed by her will was a kingdom of magic.
(T)hat three young lads fought for her though always arguing about logic.
(I)n her eyes you can see a bright red glow.
(S)hining like blood red rubies in a cave under six feet of snow.

(S)ilence is sought out whenever she starts to sing.
(M)ajestic is her voice but can give you an alarming sting.
(I)n her greatest moments she sings with an enormous chorale.
(T)he kind of crowd that boosts her morale.
(H)old your breath for a mesmerizing musical royale.
Mateuš Conrad Jan 2018
what am i with regards to language:
   another person -
             or some complex tool?
my grandfather is still bewildered
by invisible telecommunication
lines of connectivity -
and if philosophy begins with awe,
poetry - well hardly a bewildering
enterprise -
            back to language as a primitive
tool box -
         a shape ascribed to words -
rather than colours -
      take this one word:
   what shape would be ascribed
            to bewilderment?
           nouns are all straight lines?
and so unto bewildering-,
  are adjectives squares?
         there must be a grammatical
geometry of some sort -
otherwise how are we to compete
with the chinese encoding
complexity -
   if we are to return to such
openings of phonetic complexity
as Handel's messiah -
             while the chinese call themselves
Lee Chow - or Li Po?
              i'm buckling under the fact
that english speakers are literate in
that they are literate by some measure:
        odd...
         is language another person -
or as i like to think of it:
            a "primitive" toolbox of screws
nails, hammer and sickle...
better still: a scythe's shadowy peering
into the light...
            i think of death as with a hope
of immortality, armed with a hammer -
nailing each staff of wheat
               into place -
rather than: with a guillotine grin
marking each equal: before itself...
        i too wondered whether language
needs complicating -
     or whether at best: to simply grunt
and growl through...
       but that's beside the point when i
wonder that the brain: has no knowledge
of the tongue...
     how many times i've heard people
speak of: the eloquent thought,
coupled to a mumbling tongue...
   which is why: a cartesian dualism is hard
to fathom... summon Libra!
eternal Libra - nothing precipitates
to an equal fathom (unit of comprehensive
in situ) -
               there was and always will be
a dichotomy... hence the dualism advocates
invented the: schizoid mind...
   which is 2 x 2 = 4...
                     so is language not worth
complicating - after all, i have no other,
"greater" concern in using this: tool... person?
    can language really devolve
to scoop, or is it mere a shambles of
floating vegetables in a soup?
          drinking helps to numb the pain...
oh how friendly to return to
   a pseudo-incubation of sheltered
ego-foetus...
            ego... foetus...
               it must be an echo from the future
shouting: right back at me...
    for not having a memory of
being a tad bit tadpole: foetus -
  here - said god: i give unto you ego...
and thought - your 2nd womb...
         and for the love of god:
so few images have been ingested with
words, having to weigh the ******
obvious, smirk of science.
   of what i've seen of Warsaw i remember
not too dearly -
           the Warsaw Central Trainstation:
a barren place... a beautiful girl engrossed
in techno-attachments -
   the capital with so few people -
          a sight of a head with thinning hair -
if only: the apocalyptic
                  baldness of a Golgothan scalp...
then i could: smirk and retort -
last man standing is never the king...
perhaps a pawn, a bishop, queer or rook...
i laid my king into a pocket rather
than a coffin...
          last time i checked i was able to
numb mein schmerz with the antic of
sleeping for 14 hours...
            and can you believe it that:
graphemes are needed?
               the germans require S C H
to utter the same sound as the Poles do
with S Z and the English do with S H...
  some spaces ought to enforce
the Siamese dictum of Roman hellish
spawns...
                  because what is language at
best?at best it's not another person -
but a tool, however primitive language
not looks compared to <code> ext .2
practice...
                or that techno-puritanical posture
without a glum book...
                   either i am using a hammer
as i use my tongue to babble or lick -
    otherwise...
             a sickly simplicity?
  - and words do have grammatical geometry!
clearly, a verbum similis changes
shape: from the form
           bewilderment -
    through to (to) bewilder -
   into bewildering -
        otherwise named from an observation:
the genius monkey who said:
   (that) thing makes be more wild
   in temperament...
      and open: the universe -
   and closed the sight of stars in an
oxygen tank...
            for i am sure -
of a satanic possession that stirrs the mass -
as i am sure: god took a seat back -
what proof?
                  home bid yet homeless -
in the same station, a gradfather watched
his grandchild taunt a pigeon -
in her arm no breadcrumbs but only
a wish: perish: or perch here...
       i am blind to see past only
two existential arches: types -
  winged or horned -
    and beyond that: a zoo -
    something daunting to clarify with
an intelligent discussion...
      so is language another person -
or a tool?
                may i be understood
or must i necessarily be: standing ground -
never aloof - never fascinated
with an attic?
                am i to always lounge with
an antithesis of friction?
                 - and that's what sitting on
the throne of thrones does to you with
a dollop of Heidegger -
             yes, dropping a name -
but it would be hard to accomplish what
i am strumming without a mention of
what "mirror"-psyche i looked into,
before i looked into mine...
      it would be hard to digest myself
as being this complicated,
   on an a priori whim...
                  as if it was worth a base of:
uniform humanity -
    sooner finding an answer concerning
the existence of a mole looking
into one's own ****:
     and only one act is left with an
impossibility -
    the mole is as certain to exist
as a floating **** in the oasis -
   but my ***: might as well be
the regurgitating mouth...
         - and for all the beauty -
  it's crasness that shines for man -
                   to have to educate foul
speech is one thing -
              but to have to use it:
                 a lesson in liberty...
               besides - never mind "educators"
outside educational institutions -
     the muse: gratifyingly ends -
    but unlike a sense of accomplishment
a reader ascribes to having finished
   a historical novel...
     saying that - what is below a poem?
a novella -
      at least i can be honest -
the novella can only be dwarf of a Goliath:
the height of Goliath's armpit hair...
         BUT TO THINK I HEAR WHISPERS
IN MY DREAMS!
     who was the original iconoclast?
       "paradoxically": Medussa...
      enshrining them into stone -
        the word is odd - to make icons -
      ah... ****: tribe -
                caste - to caste is to make -
         again why the Americans don't know
that the suffix -cicki is actually slang for:
*******... i.e. **** - well, piquant zingy -
for the original ingests cycki...
         never mind nationalkapitalismus -
the nakies?
          because obviously it's not just:
nappies, is it?
        big baby was told it could poach
bacon instead of frying it?
                           evidently we can't complain -
unless of course we care to be
both nationalists and capitalists
  at the same time: as the English found
out the hard way...
                       but little Joey and big Sam
can be: national capitalists...
                   the rest just sign of
whether they're capitalists or nationalists -
since, outside of h'america:
   the two are never supposed to meet.
Mateuš Conrad Aug 2021
earlier in the day i dropped into the local co-op for
two ciders and some cheap white ***...
jeez... like ******* on a star anise...
or eating a tablespoon of cinnamon with some
sichuan peppercorns: tong- 'umbing...
cheap ***** alcohol... no wonder it's a cringe fest...
sooner me: ******* a lemon - gratified than
this terrible escapade...
some five hours later i dropped in (again)
for two pints of milk...
first time round she was gearing up to her shift...
automating: hello, thank you, would you like
a receipt, would you like a bag...
have a nice day... paid by card...
oh i wasn't going to let her get away that
easily... for a cashier... god... what a lovely sight!
a sight before Picasso's **** with cubism...
hair done in an onion fold... or however
Shiva does his bun of hair...
such a lovely sight...
that running joke about how copper wire was
invented: two scots arguing over a penny...
the englishman has the least amount of money
in his wallet... since he'd sooner pay for a 90 pence
bottle of milk with a debit card than
cough up a piece of metal with ol' Lizzy's
effigy on it...
    i rummaged the house for a pound:
of value... not of weight...
        upon payment i placed the pound sort of:
"funny" into her hand...
some strange sort of magic: tensed muscles...
excessively protruding knuckles without
a fist... whatever it was... i managed to steal her
eyesight... she gave me a 10 pence change
and eyed me with those most feline sort of eyes...
darting with mascara and auxiliary enigmas...
blue... green eyed boy meets a blue eyed girl...
immediately that same pull...
like when my cat started to pronounce her hind
when being groomed...
those eyes are an anchor... i'm sinking...
what day is it tomorrow?
                   good on me for having a bicycle
and not a car...
no m.o.t., no road tax... no insurance...
  plus in London with the "green" congestion
charge creeping up to include the A406...
tube... bus... train... bicycle...
i'd sooner get to Hyde Park on my bicycle
than if i left the house and used public transport...
hell... i could have asked: fancy a quickie in
the Bower forest... midnight... the moon ought
to be ******...
all this from... placing a pound coin funny on
her hand... jeez... i must have touched some nerve
ending... woken up a nervy octopus...
her pupils started to squirt ink all over me
while i ended up walking home with two pints
of milk and an イレズミ that not only covered
my back but my entire face...

summa summarum...
me &... dating? when i can excavate so many words
from a meeting of eyes that entwines for
about a second and as briskly: feverishly
disappears: i wouldn't want a profile debauchery...
uncomfortable meh and & oh sows...

... eclipse mount gay Barbados ***...
a *** so refined it can be drank solo... straight...
better than mr. whiskers & ms. amber...
*** so good... it tickles the left side of my brrr
ain...
my nose and makes my moustache into a frizzle...
moustache: mouse... t'ache: take...
moose: t'ash...
on point with the katakana:
five free standing vowels
but only one consonant...

                 no ideograms... almost Hangul...
not as compact: terrible in terms of punctuation...
lower case upper case: non-existent...
oh and if you were to throw in
that who shebang when katakana is discarded
and hiragana is employed: interchangeably...

agreed... you ought to have an ideogram
for... say... red squirrel (somewhere):
risu aka... or aka risu...
                                       リス赤
a bit like... our, western, ******* by comparison:
emoticons... eh... a little bit less of everything...
but i will not have the same fascination
with ideograms like Ezra did...
however complex the skeleton...
what comes at the end of the complication
is still somewhat of a shared sound...
shove shoe into shackles...
call it: foot... if you'd like...

but ideograms and... say... traffic lights...
prompts... surds... almost...
see green: go! *******! go!
amber... gamble...
red... stop! stop!
why isn't green replaced with blue?
blue i.e. go water go!
perhaps because if it were blue...
in direct sunlight... it would not be all that much
visible?
i don't know i don't care
for once i don't want a scientific explanation...
science was fun... no... since chemistry and the thrill
of alchemy has... been exhausted...
toothpaste... shampoo... we're good to go...

back to the chemistry of the kitchen...
just wait while i drop a black cardamom grenade
into the the topic of cooking up
a biryani... "risotto"... you'll be gagging for
a sip of Laphroaig...

i need to visit the brothel...
hmm... i just read this one article in the printed press...
losers... losers everywhere...
as a fatalist: winning is hardly: winning...
losing is a de facto: delay button:
buttoned up tux... smart penguins one minute...
choking seagulls the next...
that i read the printed press: in paper...
well... with all the weekend magazines...
art critics... t.v. critics... restaurant critics...
fashion...
i like to read what solipsists read...

"incels are crackpots and not philosophers"...
james: not the Marriot 'otel...
i was going for a joke...
an incel, a jihadi... a don juan walk into a bar...
into a nunnery...
better still... an incel, a jihadi and...
jimmy savile walk into an orphanage...
at least one walks out an Abraham...
is that even a joke?
who's winning? status...
they're still going on about the fate of Afghanistan
like it matters to them: not being Afghans...
oh how the women will suffer!
Louis... calm Louise...
it's not like the rest of the... Ummah cared that
much about Afghanistan to begin with...
the fleabag riddled infested cave dwelling
cousins of... an idea that is now...
the absurdity of Dubai...
a bit like my romance with the Scots...

what about the jihad that ought to take place
to... free those Chinese Muslims
in the indoctrination camps?
no jihad for the Uyghurs i suspect...
evil west... blah blah... ******* blah...
i'm going to slobber on that f- and subsequent blah...
for m'ah UMMAH!

- i almost forgot how much fun it is to cycle from
outer London into... a tourists' paragraph...
gall: i was, oh i was... so so... amazed...
by the sights!
my favourite sights...
stern suited "alpha" males of Bank
through to the sugar babies of Oxford St...
if one oriental chick didn't take a fancy
at this "viking": flash her knickers:
Rolling Stones?! where?! where?!
i would be surprise...
through little Sri Lanka through
to an even bigger kaput: of Islamabad...
sorry... but coming to Marble Arch...
those drums... those red flags with Arabic script...
m'eh... some holiday... Dickens was cited...
i got off my bicycle and fell on the greener
than grass symptom of.. something...

lay there... caressing what somehow would
have been a beard... or the top of my head...
oops... gravity and this bulging sack load of:
running dry the project of society...
amphetamine charged:
running dry on dinosaur-juice!
drums & the whole celebration...
i almost picked up a raven feather
i almost pulled out my makeshift
hand-pistol and pulled the trigger at the audacious
drummers...

it's their own: you know... Hyde Park is...
living the livid part of...
all is the living the livid part of
Hazlitt wrote a book about it...
containing hatred: with proper categorisation
of where to deposit the required effort...
well... a momentum ******* like
no other! contempt breeds contempt...
if i am a "westerner" deemed contemptible
by these... sophisticated:
people... cave-dwelling folk... discovered
fire... by way of the Quran... no worries...
i'm just waiting for the invasion
of the Polacks... hell... i'll see what the Russians
are up to... ***** chess ***** chess...
literature... knee depth: alias: no need
to bother...
contempt breeds contempt...

otherwise London looks pricey...
i still like to be the tourist on a ******* bicycle
ever now & then...
CS2 *****... those cyclists are like
pedestrians... let me sing joy in clinging
to proper traffic... trucks... buses... HUVs HGVs...
whatever... that overpass over the Bow roundabout
just gleamed: it SCREAMED! i'm empty... ride me!
so i did...
ha... a man and his bicycle: too bad
it wasn't a horse...
to hell with the car... me: i peddle... i generate my own
momentum...
head full of cashews...
enough pressure and the proper sort of attire
of the tire... cwunch: rrrrr-everse...
a puddle of gangrene meddling in oats on
the pave-                           -ment...

quintessential 1990s song...
crowded house: take the weather with you...
or the Afghan cave network...
which might make the Mexicans shy up:
sober... ******* spastic fantastic:
straight line dig...
but not the flea-infested last cousins
of the Ummah... beginning with
Dubai... of course the Muzzies have
no problem with their brethren sitting on
dinosaur juice... wasting it...
cities in the desert!
castles in clouds!

daffodils on make-shift islands in the middle
of the Pacific: watch the Taiwanese blush...
best to look the part...
status: WINNER... whiner...
appearances are everything...
the devil didn't come with fire & sulphur...
he came with... smoke & mirrors...
gesticulating: like Lee Evans...
this... elbow... doesn't... "row" / "work"...

spaz fantasticsch...

people take photographs of themselves:
no one ever hardly has their picture taken...
onanism par with the monobrow of
that... quizzical "Quixote"... of the haxan
brush strokes... never mind...
spot the alpha male spot
the eye-blinders!
om om... mega mega: *****-****-show:
best perform... in latex and no ******:
snooze the *******... please... ha...
ah... hmm...

we through with the greek alphabet?
no beta orbiters?
good to know some people managed to...
sort life out...
they kept busy... out of every instance:
a persistence... hey presto!
post-existentialism!
no no... we're done with concerns...
we're going to do a magic carpet ride...
right now...
conventional use of language is alreaady
too busy with journalistic antics
keeping up with the rubric...
2 x 2 =

          bring me fire! it's time to learn from
Islam... well... if the Mongols are not willing
to plunder one more time...
for a surname in Pakistan being: Khan...
but... the genes... being diluted thus...
no sign of lemon ******* sputnik in the eyes...
well then...
inter-racial breeding...
it dilutes itself after about two generations...
it's a nice idea...
landlocked in mirrors...
guess the time: call it sea...

mind you... "you"?! i was boggled down in this...
times cryptic crossword no. 28,058...
i'm terrible with crosswords...
looks like the grandfather of
sudoku died... マキ (aerials... ki... key...)
       カ (k'ah... i can almost see the ア...
but Shinto emoticons help me... i can't see the...
K's at)...
               Yi: jaw dropping: jittering: alias
for a gloated in giggles Jinn... drunk sober
on gin...
that's Yi: Ye! not an upper-case Greek:
by the gammon load... pierces pearls...
and skin so... troublesome it ought to require...
dying the hair: PINKSCH...

maybe just maybe i'm terrible at crosswords
because i'm entrenched in bilingualism...
suppose i give you a clue...
then the whim...

      not British, Weimar dramatist is
genuine...
                      ECHT...
that's einz? the one time a german will utter
the letter Z like it's not a slavic C
via the cyrilic ц?
    *****... probably works miracles
where otherwise **** ought to do...
            
some script - girl mostly follows it...
   ITALIC...

conjuring ghosts seems to be a science:
by comparison...

ECHT EIGHT EXT... yes.. i have Eaten...
have i ate? yes... but am i late to
whatever is happening in ol' Liban?
no... i'm pretty sure to be on time...

i'll cycle through to central London
once more... come tomorrow...
i'll hijack Brick Lane...
by pebble by pebble
and make it near impossible to cycle
a road-bike on cobwebbed streets..
because of the 23cm wheels...

freezing point: if i had children...
such are the latitudes of joys...
the best thoughts come:
but i will not be deserving a funeral...
there will not be a procession...
i'll simply... tidy up...
i'll disappear...

for a while i imagined myself
the speed demon stabbing myself
in the neck... in the thighs...
anywhere available to make a relief
of the suckling oysters to the female
genitals...

oh cruel cruel nature...
why so unforgiving... ha... ah ha...
so realistic... so... intrinsically: charged...
fickle wording: pudding...
my half cleft hiding position
in the ***** of the hardest 'ock... roar...
akimbo one calls it...

Faroe Faroe...
       greyish skid... "jeg" blomstrer...
"den": vilje... henge...
hen-gh'eh...

              i love women... but it's a terrible
"idea" to **** a ******...
i prefer prostitutes...
not that i have lost anything...
or gained anything...
is it anything nothing more or less...
anxious western beta orbiters looking for
a hook-up...
i don't want to be a banker...
i don't want status...
i don't want the world...

            none of this envy churning crap will
work on me...
whatever the size of the harem...
between you & me...
David or Solomon?
David... for defeating Goliath...
and writing the Psalms...
of course Solomon is the king of Envy...
king Solomon:
la Rachefauc...

                   le rachelacaut

la rochefoucauld... Solomon...
wisdom or a man... arrayed with keeping
a harem... anyone could be wise...
if he had... entry to pillow-talk...
wet-a-*****... in a harem...
oh **** me... all the wisest hebrews
gesticulate...
by the signs of the cross...
rabbi i... please do not put my name down
on the future plundering:
this here: "reserved" whiskers... ahem...
whizz...                      -dom....

HAUSÉ....

honest­ly? the Cyrillic alphabet?
looks like cheap-****...
it's somewhat Greek... but...
but... it's a work-around...
i can work with it... what are my alternatives?
******* Glagolitic Croat?
CJ Sutherland Dec 2017
An interesting phenomenon
Takes place in houses at Christmas
There is no other time of the year
When it is so natural
To have a Religious presence
In our house
The Christmas tree itself
Is a religious symbol
It’s origins are rooted in
The tree of life
In the Garden of Eden
Often we place a star
Or an angel at the top
At Christmas
we have a manger scene
With the child Jesus
Mary and Joseph
the shepherds, the magi
And angels
Candles
Closely associated with
Religious ritual
are very popular  Christmas decorations
In our homes
We listen to religious music in our homes
Christmas carols with religious themes
A prayer is usually said before the Christmas meal,
Even in homes where this is seldom done
During the year
This might set us thinking about the value
Of year round religious symbols
In the home
Perhaps we need to focus on
The renovation of our house church
We have a tradition of religious symbols
In our house
The cross, a family Bible,Ext...
But it’s faded a bit,
The Christmas season is a good time
To take a second look at having year round
Religious symbols in
Our House Church
Just a thought how many religious ornaments are on your tree?
nevaeh Mar 2023
EXT. GRAVEYARD -- DAWN

A long winding driveway, gravel, leads into a large cemetery. The sun hangs low on the horizon.
A car idles in front of the gates, a woman stands, leaning against the hood, smoke pluming from the exhaust, a chill breeze in the air.

                                   WOMAN
SOFT.    I'm nervous. It's just been so
                              long, y'know?

CUT TO -- A man, sitting in the driver's seat. He steps out of the car, shutting it off. He pockets the keys.

                                      MAN
                ­   It'll be okay. We don't have
                                    to go in.

                                   WOMAN
                            No. No, it's okay.
                                I'll be okay.

She takes his hand. They enter the cemetery together.

EXT. GRAVEYARD -- DAWN

CUT to the woman, sitting cross legged on a bench. There are rows of graves surrounding her on all sides. The headstones are all blank, devoid of flowers or signs of human life, overgrown with weeds and grass. A willow tree looms in the distance.

The man stands, a few feet away, watching, hands in pockets. He looks thoughtful.

CUT TO -- The woman, Close shot

                                WOMAN
               We were going to be buried
       here, all of us. At least that's what we
            thought. That we'd be here, one
             day, all together, forever. Like
                   anything lasts forever.

                          MAN (off screen)
          Would you go back? If you could?

                              A PAUSE

                                WOMAN
                   ­                  No.
                I don't want to remember.
                     Not if I don't have to.
            Things happened the way they
           were supposed to, I believe that.

CUT TO -- The man, he looks apprehensive.

                                   MAN
             But if you loved them, wouldn't
                   you want to remember?

                                WOMAN
             I guess. I don't know, part of me
         feels dumb even coming back here,
                    showing you this place.

                                   MAN
              I'm glad you did. This is your
           childhood. Cold and quiet as it is,
                it's part of who you are, you
                            cant change it.

The woman looks down, seemingly
deep in thought while examining the grass beneath her feet.

The wind picks up

                                 WOMAN
       I just wish it wasn't so empty, so dead.
            Like there was never life here at
             all. I just wish people could see
                what I saw, back when this
                            was all I knew.

                                    MAN
                 There is still life here, there's
         life in the memories you all still have,
                   No matter how long ago it
                                 all seems.

                                 WOMAN
                  What if they forget? I don't
          want to be the only one, still sitting
             here. Watching grass grow over
                   my most cherished days.

CUT TO -- A blank headstone, a rough gray marble slab slanting out of the earth.

                     WOMAN (off screen)
        I have to forget. So I can be me again.
                  I have to say goodbye.

CUT TO -- The woman, now standing in front of the man. She holds out her hand, a rusted padlock key in her palm.

He grabs her other hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. The woman closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and tosses the key, it flies several yards away, landing somewhere in the grass.

CUT TO -- WIDE SHOT -  the man and woman walking back towards the gate of the cemetery, closing it behind them

CUT TO -- The padlock on the gate, being clicked together, locking the gate, likely, forever.

FADE TO BLACK.
I AM NOT A SCREENWRITER, ALSO, I WROTE THIS ON MOBILE FORGIVE ANY FORMATTING ISSUES.
Michael T Chase Feb 2021
How do I put away words when they can spread maturity?
How can I exercise deeds when wisdom doesn't call for them?
How can thoughts ever have effect if they are not cognised into words or deeds?
How can objects of the macro level ever be justified if they are not used at the macro level?
How can minutia ever be justified if they are not employed in technology?
A quantum computer on every phone or in every home by the time I die!
How can prayer ever be worthwhile it doesn't inspire these things?
Who will be an exponent of knowledge in a field of ignorance where each person must criticize another knowledge to build up there's?
The school of life is full of naysayers.
It is also full of special interests who wish to keep me questioning the dignity of dignified politics.

The world needs unity, our President has propounded.
Yet who am I to set forth ideas for laws?
I am a vessel for love, for idealism.
How do I spread idealism, when my deeds say "moderation"?
Smoking cigarettes, non-alcoholic beer, **** art, *******, and God forbid: coffee!
On the other side: vitamins, vegetarianism, exercise, meditation, martial arts, math, and science.
For some reason I have a picture that idealism equals fundamentalism.
When in reality idealism is love and unity.

When spoken of as love for God shared with others, love can be a foreign word.
If God can never, ever be fully seen or known, wouldn't the only love of God be love of humanity?
Also, when knowledge is the main focus of life, love loses meaning and love is love of knowledge, while any other love than this is petty.
There is also love of excellence.

From a child it was the admiration of a kind one, an athlete, a musician, and artist.
It soon turned into a love of companionship, both friendship and romantic.
Yet due to my diverse nature, I found no one to share a moderate life with.
So I turned to companionship centered on alcohol and drugs.
Then I finally realised it was really just love of drugs that kept us together, and that without them I was as nothing to them.
So friendship ext became a sort of intuition.
The institution of religion.
Where even the proximity of a religious person was as dear friendship to me.
And any differences between us were joys of freedom of belief.

Next, without school or work I was as an outcast, because religious friends are interested in my work for humanity or too often an outer institution of knowledge.
With no compass for even writing down my thoughts to give me confidence, I did the only thing I could: I copied an Isaac Asimov introductory physics book word for word.
Physics my senior year created such a love for physics that my only dear expression was in copying that book.

Then, one night I realised I could copy Holy Scripture to strengthen my virtue.
And with one copy of a verse, my world came caving in.
My newfound spiritual power found the only avenue for my ignorance in violence toward my father.
I was hospitalized for mental health at 19.
First I argued with the staff thinking I didn't need medication.
Then I realised that cooperation was the only road out of the hospital.
I became docile and sedate.
My first day out my father recommended that I start his style of meditation.
Previously I had wanted to do my own style of meditation, but when I shared my insights with him, I was met with: "That's not what so and so teaches".

Now I found myself docile enough to begin his meditation.
After three months I felt focused and one-pointed.
After 18 months I had my first enlightenment experience.
Then, after I continued, The meditation started to make my strong and capable virtues waste away.
I was, unknown or rather known to me, a prisoner of my meditation.
My fields of study changed form music to philosophy and religion.
I moved away from home.
I worked unrelated jobs.
Then, due to my interest in spirituality, I entered an unaccredited spiritual school.

They challenged me to practice different techniques of inspiration, meditation, concentration, journaling, and diet.
I felt it was time to change my meditation practice which I by then had fully assimilated form my father.
But now I differentiated form him.
I used my own eyes like they had never been used before.
I finished a higher college degree.
I got married.
Then I was tested harder than I ever had been, and still never was.
I battled for normalcy by going off my medication ending up estranged in jail, only to come out with a wife who filed for divorce.
With her unforgiving and weak heart, never wanting to see a husband go through such tests again, the marriage ended.

I at once felt cut off from the world and became depressed.
Now on two meds I once again managed my life on my own.
I worked while going back to school to study electronics.
Afterwards, my interest in physics grew and grew.
I devoured all I could in my free time away from my job.
Then work was taking me too far away from my studies, so weirdly enough I had a back/hernia problem at work, which caused me to quit.
That same week my roommate, a best friend, had moved out of state, my cat who was catching mice for another fiend wasn't allowed back into my apartment by management, and my grandad had died not too long before.
I was weak, exhausted, felt displaced, and companionless.
I immediately took a 90-mile Uber trip to my dad's.

He let me study without a job for three months until I felt my life wasn't progressing without a job.
Two jobs later I find myself as a dishwasher/deliver/food prep worker at an upscale restaurant.
With blue collar humor mixed with female energy, it is quite exciting on busy nights.

Almost 21 years since I finished my first physics class, with an electronics degree, and over six years of self-study, I have little to show the world of my love for this knowledge of math and physics.
With Grassmannian geometry, momentum event horizons, and galaxies moving in all directions at all accelerations, with the inconceivability of witnessing a graviton, and the cover up of the US government reverse engineering extra-terrestrial technology.
With local laws helping free us from the grid being squashed by state governments, and thousands of secret patents, and inventors killed.
I can hardly make any ethical movement in technology and science without first coming to terms with the Native American, Black, and Hispanic brothers ans sister being systematically devalued, while women don't have equal pay with men.
So my mind wishes to grapple with science while in reality that path can hardly be entertained, or entertained only as an outlet for curiosity.

Meanwhile, seeing with my own spiritual eyes, my meditations have developed into a kind of zen, although I have no formal teaching in it.

— The End —