Vapid

Vapid

The jaunt on the space station was little more than a boring vacation.  There was no crew.  There was just us two with plenty of time to do whatever we wanted to pursue. This we did as we hid under the lid of this symbolic pyramid.  It was like an ongoing date with a very seductive mate and so there was always something cooking on my plate and so it was that I was full of what I ate.

This beautiful girl seemed to be from another world that was transplanted and was never to be taken for granted.  What seemed to send her spirits soaring was the fact that I looked to be so boring.  What seemed to make her pulse so rapid was the fact that I looked to be so vapid and what seemed to make her live was to stir the pot to see what gives.

We fit like a perfect pair of gloves when it came to making love and often she would choke me just to provoke me.  She seemed to like me after she would strike me and then there was argument with the sole intent of making some scurrilous imprint.  She wanted a spark to light up the dark and so often she would confuse me just to abuse me just so she could see how I would be.  Controversy was how she set herself free.

After an incident with a knife she established communications with the wife.  This was something that I told her not to do and of course this was a plan of action that she chose to pursue.  When she got caught, ferociously we fought.  It was all hands on deck when I grabbed her by the neck.  She strained and she kicked as on her face I licked.  I didn't give her a chance and so this was her last dance.  There was gurgling in her heaving until she finally stopped breathing.

I left her in that chair with a surprisingly blank stare.  It was the first time I had really noticed the color of her hair and it was the first time I could really inhale a breath of fresh air.  What was interesting is that I wasn't stricken with despair.  I was adrift in the abyss with no bad memories to miss.  She had sealed her own fate with a slovenly kiss and so my spirits were soaring because things were no longer boring.

That's when the calm was broken with alms from the intercom.  It was my wife whose words struck me like a knife.  She had seen the obscene scene via the two-way video screen.  Her talk was not scrambled and she did not ramble.  She had lifted up the hood and clearly understood what for I had gone to war and so too her spirits began to soar.  I told her to look out into the night as if to explore.  What she saw to look like a meteor with a fiery tail was none other than a falling space station and an end to what was little more than a boring vacation.

Orrin K. Loftin, Explorer

Copyright?  When bright shines the night as bad deeds fall from sight.

November 14^th, 2015

Monsters

Monsters

Some yell to tell the tale but the truth unfortunately continues to prevail!  There are monsters that seem to have crawled out from under the dumpster.  It is sad that a number of them are youngsters.  They persist to exist to feel us to kill us and they don't even bother to say why they want us to die and so it is that our mothers cry.

With a crackling boom so looms the doom!  With silence so looms the violence and with each breath so heaves the fumes of death that consume our souls whole as so rises the death toll.  Their hands are steady because they are ready to inflict as much harm and chaos unleashed from the kiosk of destruction.  They are willing to follow detailed instructions just so the darkness in the night takes an accurate bite.  They are like roaches that do not run away from the light.

We can only guess that they are of a variety that does not like the sobriety of society.  They wish us to be drunk with fear as they stab us with an ugly sneer.  Out of the shadows they appear in hopes that we run from angry guns that spit forth the mayhem amongst innocent lambs so that we may all be eternally damned.  They make no apology for an unadulterated policy of hanging shattered souls from rusty poles and so we read of this horrible story that has no sensible allegory.  Their idea of war is blood on the floor and nothing more.  It's not an argument about the rich or the suffering of the poor.

Some conjecture that the turmoil is over oil.  Some conjecture that they reject the development of intellect and some conjecture that there can be no reasonable lecture to explain the unrestrained pain that they predict to inflict.  It's like an addict has crawled out of the attic where death is a drug that it must have out of habit.  They see us as the helpless hapless rabbit that runs into a trap that it has made only to find our entrails soufleed.  This is how their ugly song is played where their mission is to make us listen to a theme of screams!

The story is old of how we were told of there not being any monsters yet they persist and they most certainly exist.  Death is an appetite for which they cannot resist.  They hunger for us to cry and they hunger for us to die without offering a cogent reason as to why.  Reasoning with them is something you can try but they figure to pull the trigger.  They figure to let loose the alms of suicide bombs and they figure to take our lives while inflicting maximum strife like a knife to cut us to rebut us.  They think this to be an era of terror and so we must not genuflect in facing a problem that we all must correct.

Orrin K. Loftin, Explorer

Copyright?  When the monster crawls out from under the bed to kill the visions of sugar plums that dance in our heads.  The family next door is already dead and so now persists an of era terror that we've all come to dread.

November 15^th, 2015

The Desires of the Last Vampire

The Desires of the Last Vampire

She felt rotten and she had forgotten the date and its subsequent fate.  Before her worms seemed to be heaped upon her plate and what was worse was there was no way to escape.  So it is that she felt unstable at the dinner table and what was worse is that she was confounded because she was surrounded by those who were about to see what she was soon to be.  She could see her image change to rearrange in a cup of tea.

The night grew to be more than slight even though it wasn't midnight.  It was due to the eclipse that now dripped from her lips.  The darkness harkened.  It grew cold as she grew old as in her desires grew to be bold.  She strained as she saw each vein that pulsated upon a customer's throat.  It seemed to be talking to her as if giving a quote about how divine the sweet red wine.  From her mouth began to hang long fangs that would not be denied as she attempted to hide what was nothing less than the beguiled smile of a crocodile that was dangerous and wild.

At another table were a gaggle of men who were youthful and able.  She was sure that these bounty hunters knew because she was in their direct point of view.  She was so frightened that she did not know what to do, particularly when she was but an obvious clue.  As luck would have it they were drunk out of habit.  The crowd was loud and the room was but a cloud that was full of those smoking and joking and so they seemed oblivious to the fear on which she was choking.

What was bizarre is that she sat across the bar where there was a mirror that did not need to be brought any nearer.  It did not necessitate anyone to see any clearer.  It was apparent that her reflection was transparent.  It was apparent that they should have been aware of an image that wasn't there and it was apparent that something was errant in candle flames that grew to have a strange hue.  On her back wings grew.  At the eclipse's peak she would not be able to control what she was about to seek.

Like the fragrance of sweet perfume she drifted into the bathroom.  It was there that she went into full bloom and it was there that a victim met her doom.  Blood she drank to replenish her tank.  The cravings were dark.  The death was stark.  She had no time to morn for she was reborn.  It was bizarre that she heard the bugle horn!  The bounty hunters were about to have some fun.  It was obvious that they had found one.  It was all because of the desires of this last vampire.  They had noticed how she had become unstable as she sat at the dinner table.

Orrin K. Loftin, Explorer

Copyright?  When so rings the chimes when you're at the wrong place at the wrong time.

September 28^th, 2015

The Beach

The Beach

There' something about the beach that you don't have to teach.  It's always a place to be determined to reach.  It's something about the air.  It's something about being way out there and it's something about being happily aware of the whole affair.  She is why I don't despair.

There's nothing to debate.  It's an activity that can't wait and the only feelings are of something great that is soon to take place as soon as the salty spray hits your face.  The artist who made this had to be of grand grace.  The inspiration is immense.  The stimulation is intense and the motivation is of a sixth sense to where all of it is real of what you feel and so there is no way for the heart to sit still.

When you reflect upon the waves that misbehave you come to realize that there's more going on below the surface.  The gravity of the situation moves you.  The push and pull of the situation soothes you and the ebb and flow captivates you where you know not to let go.  You go with the flow and into its depths you swim only to fathom the unfathomable.  The taste is beyond palpable yet you think it to drink it.

There is no way to suggest to protest to explore all of what is the ocean's floor.  To search is to thirst for more.  It's about the smells and it's about the seashells and it's about the tales salty sailors yell to tell!  You can't help but watch the waters swell without innuendo into a great big crescendo that give you a blast as they crash to end in a mist that you joyfully kiss as if a reminder of how much you've missed this.

The urge never to be purged is to stand upon the isthmus of waves that lap at your feet.  Exhilaration is what you come to greet as the invitation is sent to you by a seagull's call and so you come to feel numb as the big show makes your heart glow in an ebb and flow that makes divine the sparkling sunshine that shatters into a prism's delight, making for a beautiful sight.  This is why you stare.  This is why you're there.  This is the experience of the salty air that you heave to breathe and this is why you will never want to leave.

Orrin K. Loftin, Explorer

Copyright?  When there was never much discussion about seeing the waves and their great concussions that rang loudly like an orchestrated percussion.

June 14^th, 2015

Sexy in Red

Wear the Damn Body Cam!

Wear the Damn Body Cam!

We still feel the sting suffered by Rodney King, we still see the cops doing their own thing and we still hear the angels sing!  We have attempted to discuss how trust is a bust yet they look to throw us under the bus and so we now have a sore that's full of pus.  Our children continue to be marred and scarred as they are put down hard as if to be feathered and tarred!

We do not rest because we stand in protest of each and every deadly arrest.  The badge shines brightly and more than slightly on the policeman's chest.  So it is that I ask the question as to why an officer would not want to wear a damn body cam when it would provide proof of his truth.  Why would you aim at our youth only to again fire your gun to only have a story about what was said and done?  You have something that would exonerate you and that would show us that you are not at odds with properly doing your job.  Doing so would give you the ability to walk away with us having little if anything to say but you seem to not want us to see such a day.  Know that we're not just going to sit down and pray!

It's not that we choose to believe what we perceive.  It has been captured in full view that thing you do and so we know not to be alone without a cell phone.  We know to have one wherever we go and I now have come to heave to believe that we too should swear to wear a damn body cam!  One way or another there is a truth that we are going to uncover and it is one that we have seen to be obscene as blood marks the spot of every crime scene where it is a young brother of color.

If overall the officers of today showed a willingness to wear a damn body cam then this would go a long way towards letting us know that they feel us and that they too have concerns about what kills us.  Another story we cannot trust is yet another one of us biting the dust just because it is perceived to be believed we commit crimes all of the time.  Do you not hear the chimes?  It is a bell that yells of how another tree was felled because a cop was chopping wood as hard as he could!  The explanation is that he was just following proper procedure with which to protect and serve and so another bullet has struck a nerve where the perpetrator got what he allegedly deserved!

So it is that we experience another news report where another grand jury has chosen to abort the court.  The views of the opposing side again have been denied and so another brother has died, another cop is not tried and so another mother has cried.  This is why we still feel the sting suffered by Rodney King.  This is why we do not want cops to keep on doing their own thing, this is why at another funeral we can hear the angels sing and this is why the police should wear the damn body cam!

Orrin K. Loftin, Explorer

Copyright?  When the cops loudly protest to request the damn body cam

December 29^th, 2014

 

 



Groundbreaking "Reflections"

Of this Earth

Of this Earth

There are many animals of this earth.  It is why we are so diverse.  It is what makes so wondrous this universe.  What is unfortunate is our need to feed.  What is unfortunate is that we kill for a meal and what is unfortunate is that many of us don't care about the error in our terror.

We tend to the flocks of meek sheep.  We lend sweat to the brow to raise a cow and we abominably overstuff our pigs so that we might eat all of the meat only to let fall to the floor that which we cannot consume anymore.  We don't even care about tossing scraps to the poor.

So what of that which we defeat to eat?  So what of the carrion that we dice to spice and garnish with rice and so what for we belch only to make more room to consume doom?  Most of us would be quiet as a mouse if we visited a slaughter house.

When the axe falls does nature call?  Are we sure we are so pure when we watch the buckskins cure?  Are we so malevolent that we cannot see the tragedy of lives cut short just so we can brandish our steely knives and short lived lives where we celebrate the history of stoking the rotisserie?  We act as though we'd be ashamed if we were caught to be fraught with the thought that for far too long we have been dead wrong.

There is no sense in tendering an apology when we now have the technology.  Indeed it is pathetic now that we have a clearer understanding of genetics.  This coupled with our understanding of nutrition demands the mission that we create that which we put on our plates.  We can fix the taste so as to remove that frown on your face and at the same time we could live longer and prove to be that much stronger.

What we could and should do is stop the slaughter of our wild kingdom just for the sake of a medium rare steak.  Yes this is hard because there is hypocrisy with regard to what you and I should do.  Our fellow brethren have no defense given that we've corralled most of them in a fence.  It's like we get a thrill out of roping and branding our next meal.  How would you feel if you were next to be killed?

There are many animals of this earth.  We treat them as if they are not of any worth.  We feel them to kill them over our need to feed and over our sense of greed.  We need to stop before the last weasel goes pop!  Our ambition should be to find another way to suffice our nutrition, otherwise the demise is written in their eyes.  Read it and heed it.

Orrin K. Loftin, Explorer

Copyright?  When even the lambs in Vietnam need to be saved from being damned.

April 6^th, 2015

 

 



In Awe of the Thaw

In Awe of the Thaw

We now stand in awe of the thaw.  It's as though some obelisk has been telling us about this and so it's exciting writing cannot be dismissed and so the beauty of the world arises from the mist to have been sorely missed and so we extend to her a beautiful kiss.

It was as if before we couldn't soar because our wings were chosen to be frozen and so it was difficult to try to fly.  It was as if we were chosen to die.  The sun was something on which we could not rely as the deep freeze brought us to our knees.  It was as though the prison guard had taken away the keys and so we dwelled in the jail of an icy hell, never to be free to tell the tale and so we have left the writing on the wall for all of ya'll.

I remember the onset of fall only to believe that the summer would never leave, only to believe to forever dine on divine sunshine and only to believe to never be done with having fun under a hot broiling sun.  The boldness of the coldness caused the dream to become undone.  The mirage had been dislodged by an arctic blast that was so ill in its chill that the world came to a standstill.

The winter we entered was with zeal as if knowing that this would not have any kind of appeal.  This is why our teeth chattered.  This is why our tongues squealed and this is why we cried every time we went outside.  The hawk had swooped down with an angry frown with its talons to the bear to go on a tear with which to inflict the strain of a glacial pain that drips from the lips of a wintry apocalypse.

With ice we'd been pelted only to have thoughts that it's melted only to see a frosty sea of barren trees, frozen ponds and empty wheat fields.  It was as if we had all been killed by a dragon with no desire to breathe fire.  It just wanted us to expire.  There was no way for us to perspire, not when an untold cold grabbed us to stab us with fickle icicles that put up no fuss when it came to pricking us.

We now stand in awe of the thaw.  We are aware that it's there and will remember how winter went on a tear because it chose us to have froze us.  Now we have felt the onset of the melt that is soon to come.  No longer will we be numb and so the beauty of the world arises from the mist to have been sorely missed and so we extend to her a beautiful kiss.

Orrin K. Loftin, Explorer

Copyright?  When we sing the theme of spring!

January 31^st, 2015