Dreams

Dreams

Dreams to be dreamed of

Dreams to be forgotten

Dreams to be realized

Eye dream of genies in a bottle with unlimited wishes about moist soft kisses for, eye reminisce restlessly about this

Eye dream of wild horses racing, unbridled, unabashed, unabound

Eye dream of nymphs that dance in my head, in the midnight so bright and, even during the midday when the light’s just right

Dreamt of an avatar’s tale asking if it was you or, if it was me or,

If it was she, or if it was even real

Dreamt of an unscene forecast remembering only that the weather was nice

Dreamt of always enjoying dreams, not once, not twice but, for life

Dreams

Orrin K. Loftin, Explorer

Copyright? Dreamt of during February’s Frost, 2010

My Captors Stopped Torturing Me

My Captors Stopped Torturing Me

My captors stopped torturing me when eye began giving them tips on how to do a better job

If water-boarding is your claimed profession well,

You at least ought to be good at it! 

Ya’ think?

My captors stopped torturing me when eye gave them my websites:  tekniksfordentaltorture.com & howtoseduceapseudomasikist.org

If pulling fingernails from a terrorist is your specialty, i.e., you are

“The bomb” at it then be “The bomb” and do it right, aye?!!?

My captors stopped torturing me when they found my book titled, “Cooking Hardened Criminals with Salt”.

The sales price is $Eye-for-an-Eye$

If you have pride in your profession then inflict pain with

Precision, Accuracy and, Patience.

It’s an art form!

Orrin k. Loftin, Explorer:  Copyright?  Ask my captors – They have the book

All Hands on Deck

All Hands on Deck

There’s half a man’s leg sticking out of the deck of the ship.  There’s a mist painted in blood that fills the field of view.  The screams of agony frame the mayhem.  Victims cry out for help.  Supply and demand dictated that we pursue her, this whale.

Did we ever have a chance?

A mother and her calf make for a fight to the death.  Few have fared well in a dual to the depths with this princess of the deep

who is now more than angry with our insolence, lack of proper protocol and respect.

The captain is dead.  The first mate just shot himself in the leg and, the ship’s chef is manning the harpoon.  Is that a man, a barrel of rum or a rib cage that just drifted by?  The whale seems to smile with the question of,

“Who is in charge?” and, “Ahoy there!”

                                                                                                                                                                                           

“Anchor’s Away” epitomizes the situation for she tore the anchor right out of the boat’s left side on her first pass.  The look-out in the crow’s nest hangs by a finger’s nail wishing he had remained at port for Christmas. 

Now, at the crack of the main mast do we all gasp.

None of us can believe this.

Sixteen Men on a Dead Man’s Chest is an old salty song sang in jubilation.

Now it may well be read at our funerals or at a church dedication.                                      

A betrothal to a bride whose honeymoon is that of murder.

“There She Blows” echoes around the world and from sea to shining sea.  The whale, this monster of man, thrashes about belligerently.

Abandon ship!  Make it quick!

She understands, you see.

Orrin K. Loftin, Explorer

Copyright?  At the Bottom of the Sea, April 2010

Clear Your Mind & Concentrate

Orrin K. Loftin, Explorer

 

A Teddy Bear Standing in the Hallway



A Teddy Bear Standing in the Hallway

There’s a teddy bear standing in the hallway, holding his blanket and, wiping sleep from his eyes

On his way to the bathroom a tinsel town fantasy caught him by surprise

A winter green spruce stood tall in the den from floor to ceiling and from ceiling to roof

It stood guard over tiny toy soldiers, shiny new bicycles and, a new telescope.  No one will believe this without proof

An aroma calls from the kitchen.  It’s a plate full of brownies and a tall glass of milk

At the sound of a loving query, “Honey is that you?” the little bear scarfs a few bites, gulps more than a little bit and then scurries back down the hallway, thus ending this Christmas Night safari that’s always rapped in angel-hair’s silk

While back in bed a tender hand tucks you in.  It is mom.  She wipes some milk from your forehead thinking it was you but, it truly was the bear instead

There’s a teddy bear standing in the hallway, holding his blanket and, wiping sleep from his eyes

Orrin K. Loftin, Explorer

Copyright?  Under the Tree in April 2010

[Dedicated to my son, Procasius]

Looking At The Future

Desert Buffet

There’s a camel smoking a Marlboro while looking for the weather section of the newspaper

There’s a spider swinging in a silk hammock with four pairs of shades and, eight jars of sun block

There’s a horse with No Name.  No Name is riding bare back and doesn’t know where he’s at

There’s an ant eater protesting that not enough aunts are allowed to traverse this way

There’s an empty hour glass halfway buried in the sand.  Looks like it’s operating on borrowed time

There’s the skull of a Texas long horn complaining that the climate is bad for his skin

There’s a Shao Lin priest trekking across a sand dune.  Can a monk walk from China to here without shoes?

There’s a side winder hissing at a sign that says, “No Thru way”.  It wasn’t there yesterday

There’s a perfect picture of water painted on the side of a large luscious cactus

There’s a television tuned to the weather channel but, it’s still searching for satellite signal, a signal that’s being blocked by Death’s Dark Valley and lots of luminous sunspots

There’s a mirage that shows the way to an oasis.  Like water it will be gone soon so hurry.  Don’t waste it!

There’s a desert fox who howls at the sun.  He sleeps all night so he never gets a chance to bark at the moon.  He’ll wake up some day, probably around noon

There’s a ninety day forecast that reads, “Hot, Hotter and, Death Becomes You”

There’s an empty bottle of antifreeze that lays entangled in some overheated tumble weeds.  You have to see it in order to believe it

There’s a camel smoking a Marlboro while looking  for the weather section of the newspaper

Orrin K. Loftin, Explorer Copyright?  At a Buffet Near You, May 2010

Science Station Alpha

The Last Vampire: My World of Woes

Oxygen Supply Contaminated!

New Corvette!

Science Station Alpha's Unexploded Sun

Phone

Phone

The phone, now disconnected once connected

Was used to save my life

The phone, now disconnected once connected

Was used to keep me in tune, to keep me in touch, with life

The phone, now disconnected once connected

Was used to ring in, to chime in the New Year, the happy happy New Years of Life

The phone, now disconnected once connected

Was and is an umbilical cord to life and is scheduled for surgery better yet, is scheduled for unscheduled maintenance, for life

Phone

Orrin K. Loftin, Explorer

Copyright?  Scheduled for maintenance

Desert Buffet

YouTube Channel

Conversations With God

Conversations with God

Conversations with God

So, what if, what, if we don’t agree?

Let us proceed further if permission is granted,…thank you, sir.

So, what if based on the disagreement that eye proceed in a manner that you consider to be a sin?

What if eye honestly disagree that it is a sin?

Can not the creator be questioned or, is this automatically considered out-of-bounds?

What if eye humbly contend that via questioning one learns, one grows, one becomes more enlightened and, a better being?

So, please answer the questions, sir.  If for no other reason than to help me better understand.

P.S. Sir.  You will find me to be a willing student if you so choose to teach for, you are the one.

Orrin K. Loftin, Explorer

Copyright?  If and only If 2010



Brick Brain

Communiqué

Man or Machine

Man or Machine

Man?  Man made machines

Machines?  Machines make other machines

Other machines?  Other machines make thinking machines

Thinking machines?  Thinking machines make smarter thinking machines

Smarter thinking machines?  Smarter thinking machines think they made it.  They think they made us!

Man? Man made machines that don’t think like he does, feel as he does, that don’t do what he does

Machines?  Machines make decisions

Man?  Man makes decisions

Who makes the final decision?  What makes the final decision?

Man or Machine

Orrin K. Loftin, Explorer

Copyright?  Man Made in February 2010 Via a Machine

Nymph

Nymph

Eye met a nymph once.  She traveled across my mind and quietly hid behind my dreamscape when eye awoke

Eye met a nymph once.  She tripped my light fantastic in a day dream and disappeared in a vapor when eye awoke again

Eye met a nymph once.  She trapezed my thoughts of fancy and filled them with soft, drifting dandy lions and light bugs that held me captive in a reality where eye wanted to stay

Eye met a nymph once.  She tickled my nose with her bright-winged flutters that aroused me from a slumber with a sneeze

Eye met a nymph once.  She tuned me in to her avatar so that my wanderings of sleep would go without harm, without intrepidation

Eye met a nymph once. She treks the universe of altered states of consciousness and paints a stage of awe and delight, a place where bed bugs don’t bite

Nymph

Orrin K. Loftin, Explorer

Copyright?  During the Sweet Slumber of February 2010

Science Station Alpha

Romantic Warrior

Curved Space

Curved Space

It’s a thousand miles to the nearest corner

It’s right around the corner in curved space

It’s a thousand miles to the nearest bus stop

It’s right around the bend in curved space

It’s a thousand miles to the nearest shelter

It’s right around the mountain in curved space

It’s a thousand miles to the nearest friend

It’s right around the way in curved space

It’s a thousand miles to the nearest miracle

It’s right around your next thought, your next idea, It’s right here!  In curved space

Curved Space

Orrin K. Loftin, Explorer

Copyright?  When around the way in curved space

LOL II

She, the Ship, Remains

She, the Ship, Remains

Unlike most ships that disappear into the night our winter wonderland has remained land locked, serving as a prismed, beaconed ornament that gains way to the majestic landscape

Full sails bellow with full breezes that please us, as snow flaked flurries frolic a back-dropped mountain menagerie

Deep blue skies kaleidoscope greys, hues of orange on a purple haze range that rip in a running wind fancy

Snow geese on high, pelicans on low and eagles in the middle dot the heavens with the expertise of envious painters

Loud shrieking sea gulls announce their participation in keeping the sea’s memories fresh, flowing and alive

Unlike most ships that disappear into the night this dream remains to be seen, it waits for you, no tickets required, permission to come aboard?  Granted

Not only is permission gregariously given but, this maiden magic voyage of melodic beauty, sound and, real fantasy is always ready to set sail for you.  Do you sea?

She, the Ship, Remains

Orrin K. Loftin, Explorer

Copyright:  During the Frequent Frosts of February 2010

Pin Pricks, Pillows & Quilts

Pin Pricks, Pillows & Quilts

Pin pricks, pillows and quilts is all, as they converse with meandering thoughts about the weather, school, church and kids

Pin pricks, pillows and quilts is all, as the causeway of memory’s past is again traversed with sugar plumed chatter about youthful frolics back in the day

Pin pricks, pillows and quilts is all, as delightful chuckles abound about unboiled eggs found in the thanksgiving potato salad

Pin pricks, pillows and quilts is all, as old steadied hands craft a magic carpet of love to hold you tight and to help prevent bed bug bites

Pin pricks, pillows and quilts is all, as they weave long lost tales of the big city which now crowds tobacco field rows where hide and seek with the briar rabbit was played

Pin pricks, pillows and quilts is all, as we lay ourselves down to sleep under quilted memoirs of unforgotten love

Pin Pricks, Pillows & Quilts

Orrin K. Loftin, Explorer

Copyright?  During the February Feathers of 2010

Dedicated to Aunt Pam



Far Far Away

Far Far Away

Far Far Away

The Pleiades is far far away but, how far away is it to simply walk down the street and help a neighbor in need

The Spiral Nebula is far far away and so so faint but how far away is it to a mail box with which to send a check for a worthy cause

The star, Alpha Centauri, is far far away yet how far away is it to  your cell phone with which to text, one, someone who has no ray of sunlight because they’re all alone

The Milky Way is far far away, a faint ribbon in the sky yet, how far away from a tree is it with which to tie a yellow ribbon around it

The Moon is far far away yet so, so close that it can brighten up a dark night sky so, how far away is It and, how far away in thought are we from bright ideas that can help us, one and all

Far Far Away[1]

Orrin K. Loftin, Explorer

Copyright?  The Follies of February 2010

[1] Flickering thoughts from Brown Out, a character who though often seems to be dim-witted is full of bright ideas

---

Market Street

Market Street

Market Street

Market Street is a pliable portal in time where historic events gregariously greet the people it meets

This late great star gate will take you to Bomb Preparedness Day which marks our entry into World War I when our first war of the worlds had just begun

If you boldly peer deeper into the looking glass of the past you will see our seventh world expo where advanced ideas of the future engaged today’s center stage of the post modern age

As fate’s fortune would have it the stopwatch does not stop so we run into Armistice Day which footnotes a prodigious end to our first pioneered planetary crusade which is currently celebrated as Veterans Day, a time to totally recall long lost soldiers, mortal souls and a place when at a loss for words it will kindly do to silently pray

Though the flexible future’s crystal ball may indeed be in need and be cracked and old it is still contiguous and not the least bit remiss in revealing an eve of Christmas where the opulent opera singer Luisa Tetrazzini sanguinely sang with glee how the streets of San Francisco were and are forever free!

With infinity’s perpetual permission we in real-time receive a televised transmission when the New Year graciously greets those by the millions who miraculously meet on Market Street with which to celebrate the prompt arrival of the long awaited millennium and the everlasting hopes of peace and good will in the Middle East

Market Street is a pliable portal in time where historic events gregariously greet the people it meets

Orrin K. Loftin, Explorer

Copyright?  December 1910, February 1915, July 1916, November 1918, December 1999, November 2010

Real Time

Real Time

It’s fine to get real but, what if alternate realities are your thing

It’s fine to get real but, what if the black hole of life sucks you into another place in time

It’s fine to get real but, what if la la land makes for a better tomorrow, a better stomping ground, a better resting place

It’s fine to get real but, what if the reality you seek is one you will have to make, one you will have to create

It’s fine to get real but, what if the alternatives presented to you are in and of themselves, proven to be the smoke of mirrors

It's fine to get real but, what if the curved–balled events you experience, paradox themselves in a chaotic and random manner

It’s fine to get real but, what if being all you can be is surrealistic

It’s fine to get real but, what if alternate realities are your thing

Real Time

Orrin K. Loftin, Explorer

Copyright?  What if it is already copyrighted?