enemies

too many enemies to count
horizon dotted with armored horses and savage men

they spit and curse my name
a lone man in the middle of an unnamed land

my tribe slaughtered
my honor is what keeps my feet grounded
and my weapon by my side

lost cause
time stood still
i held my ground

they charge with their weapons drawn
and spill my blood into the hot sand

my lineage lost
last in line to the afterlife

my tequila hangover

bad words on 11/11/07


i heard myself praying to God so he could stop the world from turning.
or maybe twist the world the same way as my head.

too many shots in the head
felt like a concussion
checking my scalp for any contusions

what a weird and warp world I've wandered into.
every step felt more like jelly climbing up my body

that journey to the top of the stairs seems like an eternity.
I think i had my eyes closed the whole time.

sleeping was not an option
dry heaves and spinning ceilings
were in the menu for tonight

next morning the spinning permutated into piercing pain.
i rather have the vertigo back.

dead duck dot com

3 am in the morning, I look down at my useless wings. They flap with little enthusiasm nowadays. It's the same routine. drink. eat. crap. pee. I long to fly towards the moonlight, it taunts me as I shift around this cubicle. This cold life meaningless. I miss my flock.

I remember flying towards that endless horizon, so far high you can see the earth's orange curve as the sun lightly creeped on it's edges. Now this hollow existence within this paper prison. Life sure has a way of turning around. But tonight, as the masters sleeps, i will try to climb out of my situation.

as I was halfway past the point i felt my wings slipped and I heard the sound of a branch breaking and God turning out the lights.

Gray area

people like make dichotomies of almost everything:
liberal/conservative
evil/good
God/devil
democrat/republican
pro/con
black/white


personally, i live in the gray...and it's not that drab over here because i can see both colors.

Polar living

The polar bear shook it's white coat as it prepares for the journey across the frigid sea. It was a gamble of what could be days before he ate again. He has been unable to find any good meat and have lost a lot of weight.

He enters the water and paddles his way through the fog, and then the darkness. The sun sets and rises and his muscle have grown weary. He almost looses hope and reflects on his mate and cubs he left behind him. Then a faint bark from the fog, and then another, then in unison. A pack of walruses slumber on the beach. He is excited and tired as he lays his paws on the beach.

He sleeps for a day in the sand, to recuperate his strength. He dreams of thick blubber as it almost melts between his jaws as he gnaws on a dead walrus. The new day starts again and his stomach turns over. He has to eat today or he may not have any strength to pass another day. He pounces on the pack of walruses their saber teeth flashes in the air. The easiest prey would be the a young pup, but the walruses protect it with a wall of blubber.

He tries to force a parent off one with his teeth but was unable to damage the thick blubber that protects them. A saber tooth sinks into his back from another walrus, his left leg muscle screams of agony as it becomes twisted from the rocks beneath. He ignores the pain and pounces on another walrus that had strayed from the pack trying to go into the water.

He's weak now and this was his last chance as the pack had gone into the sea. He hold for dear life on the walrus's back, but the injuries he sustained and his failing strength forced him to let go as it dived to the depths of the sea.

He walks limply back to the beach. His body ached, he whimpers in agony as the pain from the injuries surges and radiates through. He accepts his fate. He uses his paws to create a mound on the sand. A deathbed. With it's head down it roared a final voice of defiance. And layed down and accepted the end. His consciousness begins to slip and he hears the walruses coming back to the beach behind him. They are aware that the bear no longer poses as a threat.
----------------------------------------------------
(C) Jess Calcaben 4/03/2007
----------------------------------------------------

"Tapping the root"

They came in the cover of the night. turning the dark blue
sky to green. They called their city a "multiverse folding
structure". Their hexagonal city hovers over the Crais sea
where it can be seen on the shores of capsin beach. These
androgenous elves are a civilization that travels from one
universe to another in pursuit of sharing knowledge with
other civilizations.

The androgynous elves aboard that city called themselves
Eroe. They contacted the primary civilization of the planet,
The Nasai. The Nasai who resembles humanoid forest animals
gladly welcome the Eroe and proceeded to trade goods for the
advance technologies.

Among the goods traded was the taproot of the Balit tree. The
taproot is used by the Nasai as a way to dilute their senses
around the planet. They are able to feel the clouds, the
frills of the cropa fish, and they can smell the flower
garden a continent away.

The next week another Eroe traders came into Nasai territory.
They traded for polished stones for more of the taproot. the
next week more traders came in and they traded more
technology for more taproots.

This pattern went on until the Nasai had almost run out of
taproots for their ceremonial practices. They decline the
Eroe from trading with them until they are able to plant more
Balit trees.

During the past 3 months the sexless elves had began to
change due to ingesting the taproot. It had caused them to
grow pleasure organs, which gave them tremendous pleasure
when rubbed against each other. But the organs only work with
the constant ingestion of the taproot.

The Eroe began to attack the Nasai with waves of their ships,
trying to harvest and plant the Balit tree in their
hexagonal city. They realized that the tree could not grow
unless it was planted on the surface of the planet. The Eroe
became insane from being unable to achieve ecstasy. They
leveled the civilization of the Nasai and also enslaved the
remaining Nasai to care for the Balit tree.

A century has passed and the Ecstatic elves of the Eroe still
writhed their pleasure organs aboard their hexagonal
city.
----------------------------------------------------
(C) Jess Calcaben 3/29/2007
----------------------------------------------------

The Hex

Created by a multiverse faring civilization, the "hex" has been placed in many gas giants. The hex harvests energy created in the turbulent environment. Every 28.5 years they harvest the energy using a wormhole that opens in the apature of the hexagon structure. This can be observed by a periodic storm called "the great white spot".
----------------------------------------------------
(C) Jess Calcaben 3/28/2007
----------------------------------------------------