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The Ode

Ode to the Writer

By Tom Foster

 

We are the lords and ladies of creation, yet we are still just players.
In the beginning we are as in the end.
We do not aspire, we simply do.
There is the dream, tempered by the reality, and given form by the thought.
By our thought, by our dreams, and by the reality we impose.
It’s a madness of the sort that only poets and writers can truly understand, and even among those only a few can comprehend.
Comprehension, that is a truly frightening thing.
We play with words, we are those that can immortalize, and those that can do what must be said and say what must be done.
It is confusion, this comprehension, and in the midst of it all, it is the single word that carries power, the one among all that is ever elusive, ever there, always waiting for us to return to, to remind us what it is that drives us, what keeps the fountain flowing.
Every last soul that has ever put ink to paper, ever put finger to key, every vague idea that swirls inward from the maelstrom we call the world, the universe, and everything in between and without.
For everything that could come, for everything that has and will come, we are there. We are the ones that do not deny the voice that tells us, “this must come to pass”, or “this must be remembered”.
It is who we are, what we do, and through everything, it is the lifeblood of those who cherish this timeless art form, this undeniable urge to say, in their own manner, “I AM”.
We are not gods, we create, and yet in the process, we are created. It is our words, penned and copied throughout the ages that have helped to shape the world, to say that, “WE ARE”, that “WE EXIST”.
Whether tyrant or savior, good or evil, saint or sinner, the words that are put to time’s test are those that will come to define the world we know. Memory is not enough, though it serves.
As do we.
We are the lords of creation, the ones whose words will last and echo into the ages, for all to see, and all to remember.
Is it truth?
The better question is: Does it matter?
We are the lords and ladies of creation, and by our words, the world we know is shaped, molded, and given to the next generation, and so on and so forth until the whole mess ends, only to be rebuilt, and to crumble again.
We are the lords and ladies of Creation, and this is our legacy.

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The Last Flag (part V)

America Must Prepare for These Worrying National Security Threats | World  Report | US News

Getting away from the rest of them wasn’t going to be as simple as he wanted it to be, but as he quickly entered the building in front of him, Cliff at least knew that they wouldn’t have the balls to storm a building that was filled with various gangs that had no love for the BLM and even less for Antifa. Such place still existed, but they were cities unto themselves at times and some of them had learned how to become self-sustaining villages of a sort that made their own products and recycled as much material as they could to keep themselves running. Thankfully the local governments, despite supporting BLM and Antifa, still found it necessary to appease everyone on some level, otherwise these places might have never appeared in the first place.

Cliff didn’t happen to know much about this particular building, but the markings he’d seen on the service door he’d gone through made it clear that they weren’t BLM sympathizers. And if they didn’t care for BLM then it was likely that they didn’t like Antifa either. Making his way down a service corridor he wasn’t even stopped until he rounded a corner and found himself facing two individuals that looked to be lounging in the hallway. One of them was white and the other was black, and they were both armed, but didn’t appear hostile.

“Can we help you?” the white man asked, rubbing at a rough, scrub-like beard that was gray in areas.

“This ain’t a place you can just walk into youngster,” said the black man, “At least not if you’re dressed like that.”

Cliff looked down at his black sweatshirt and faded blue jeans, frowning as he looked back up. Neither of the men were wearing face masks he realized, which prompted him to pull his down so they could see his face in full.

“I’m sorry,” he said calmly, “This was all I had for the day. I’m not BLM or Antifa, promise.”

“Yeah well, too bad for you we’ve heard that before,” the black man stated, his hand moving towards the pistol situated in a holster at his hip, “It’s probably best that you run along now son.”

Cliff licked his lips nervously, looking back the way he’d come, “I can’t sir,” he replied, “I’ve got BLM and Antifa on my ass. I saw the red white and blue star on the door and I figured this place would be safe for a while. If that’s okay.”

“What were they chasing you for?”

It was a huge trump card to play this soon, but having seen the mark on the door and the fact that both men had bristled noticeably at the mention of BLM and Antifa, Cliff figured it might be his only chance to stick around.

“Because of this,” he said, pulling the item that the thugs had started chasing him for. The reaction that both men had wasn’t a new one, since most people hadn’t seen a genuine American flag for quite a while.

(to be continued)

The Last Flag (part IV)

America Must Prepare for These Worrying National Security Threats | World  Report | US News

Cliff had heard of the game ‘capture the flag’ from his mother when he was younger, but the game he was currently engaged in had far worse consequences than losing if he stopped or was caught at any time. His sneakers slipped just a bit as he ran across a spill of garbage that had been left to rot and congeal on the scored and beaten blacktop, but he wisely accepted the skid before his feet found purchase on rough asphalt once again. Behind him came the sounds of people shouting, calling him such things as ‘coon’, ‘race traitor’, ‘nationalist’, and many other names that he didn’t bother responding to since his main goal was to outrun whoever was behind him and keep the precious cargo in his pack from falling into the wrong hands. For all he knew it was the last one. It was definitely the last that he’d seen in some time.

The American flag, the old stars and stripes, had been banned in many cities and torn down by angry mobs over the years as a ‘racist symbol of oppression’. What had replaced it were the BLM flags, the Antifa flags, and any other banner that people wanted to fly that didn’t inspire any thoughts of the freedoms that so many had given up when bending the knee to the two organizations and their many splinter groups. Their gangs ran most of the cities in the USA at this point, and those within the government that could do something about it wouldn’t since they knew how hard the groups would fight them. Even federal troops hadn’t been enough to get the gangs out, and even attempting to do so simply made life harder on those citizens that didn’t want to pick sides.

A break in the alley was coming up as he could see, offering three different ways he could go. He could continue straight ahead towards what looked like another cross street, or he could turn right or left. Glancing quickly in both directions as he slowed Cliff opted to go to the right after noting that it too made its way out to another cross street. A quick glance behind him showed that there was only one person still on his trail, a lanky, mangy-looking woman in a wife beater with a sports bra underneath and a pair of sweatpants accentuated by a pair of well-worn sneakers.

“Yeah Imma get you little punkass bitch!” she yelled through the mask covering the lower half of her face, “You’ better keep runnin’!”

It was strange that no one else had followed her, but Cliff had an idea that she wasn’t really alone and that any direction he went he might be headed into a trap. That was okay, he could improvise, and as he tucked to the right and continued to run he could hear her catching up as he took refuge behind a dumpster only seconds before she came racing around the corner. He knew the ruse wouldn’t work that long, but taking something from his pack he slipped it over the knuckles of his right hand, holding it to his lips as he said a small prayer to himself.

“Hiding isn’t going to do anythin’ for you little bitch,” the woman said as she stalked forward, “I saw you come this-“

She was just coming around the dumpster when Cliff decided it was time to strike. He didn’t like hitting women, and he didn’t like fighting in such a gutless style, but right now he was just trying to get away. If she was allowed to see where he went next he was confident that anyone that was seeking to flank him would be given a serious advantage that he couldn’t afford. So right now, this was the only way.

Still, he couldn’t help but wince at the sound the brass knuckles in his right hand made when they sent her crashing to the ground.

(to be continued)

Shaking My Head, Still…..

Finally, an honest democrat - Imgflip
Funny liberal Memes
Since people love to bring up the past…selectively that is….
The Wall of Stupid | Page 26 | Elite Trader
A #BlackLivesMatter Idiot Got Arrested After Declaring 'Open Season on  White Ppl' facebookcomAmandaSheaJour IT'S OPEN SEASON ON WHITE PEOPLE the  Best All Lives Matter Memes Memedroid | All Lives Matter Meme on
What do you think of the Black Lives Matter movement? - Quora
Just let that sink in….

The pictures say it all really, but as divisive as some folks want to say Republics and the right are, the leftists and Democrats are somehow going even lower and getting worse and worse, and the worst part is that they appear to be proud of it.

The Last Flag (part III)

America Must Prepare for These Worrying National Security Threats | World  Report | US News

A couple of other things he’d learned was that big guys didn’t always take two shots, but the second was usually best reserved for any overeager wingmen that were ready and willing to step up to back them up. Fortunately no one had drawn a gun on him yet, and Cliff had already seen an opening he could use if he needed it. One punch later and he needed it as the second individual he’d expected went falling away, his nose a bloody mess as Cliff turned to run. The alleyway was only a short distance from where he was standing, but as he turned to make his way to the right, towards what would be an uncertain flight towards another part of town, he felt a hand grip at the pack on his back.

“Motherfucker!” he heard behind him, followed by a heart-rending rip as the top of his pack was torn open, revealing what he was carrying. He hadn’t though to hide it any better than this, and leaving it at home hadn’t been a smart option since despite his reliance on firearms in the house, BLM and Antifa had both been through his and his mother’s belongings a couple of times in the last few months. They hadn’t found all his hiding spots yet, but since they’d found one, the word was no doubt out among some of them that his home had a hidden compartment that they might find something in. For that reason his heart dropped as he heard the breathless words that came next.

“Flag,” he heard behind, “He’s got a, he’s got a flag! This motherf-!” That was as far as the individual got before Cliff was spinning around, driving his left elbow into the face of a woman that fell away instantly. She wasn’t alone unfortunately as more onlookers were coming over to see what was going on, most of them being like-minded no doubt and several more sporting BLM or Antifa gear as he muttered under his breath.

“Shit.”

Only moments later he was running down the alley he’d noted, and the chase was on.

(to be continued)

Has Anyone Read Up On The Wild West?

Does This Photo Show a 'Cop After Not Shooting a Guy with a Knife'?
Because cops can’t protect themselves, right? Gtfoh
Cops' troubling Facebook posts revealed | In Plain View | Injustice Watch
Granted, if everyone is actually being peaceful this shouldn’t happen. But maybe it’s time Antifa and BLM got a wake-up call.
Third World Skeptical Kid Meme - Imgflip
1963 20 HAVE ADREAM THATMY FOUR LITTLECHILDRENWILL ONE DAY LIVE INA NATION  WHERE THEY WILL NOTBEJUDGED BY THE COLOR OF THEIR SKIN 2016-Looting AND  BURNING ONES OWN NEIGHBORHOO0 AND SHOUTING BLACK LIVES
The times don’t always change for the better obviously…
Meme Exposes HARD TRUTH About Black Lives Matter Protests
Yeah, it’s a good idea, that’s why it’s not being used…

If you can laugh and cheer at the idea of someone being killed, then you’re the problem, not the solution, and nowhere near innocent.

The Last Flag (part II)

America Must Prepare for These Worrying National Security Threats | World  Report | US News

“Whatchoo doin’ on my street bruh?”

He hadn’t looked where he was headed, but as he looked up Cliff could see at least three individuals standing in his path. All three of them were muscular individuals that looked ready for mayhem, the masks covering the lower half of their faces stamped with the BLM symbol and an upraised black fist making them look even more imposing. Three sets of angry eyes glared at him as Cliff stopped, holding his backpack strap a little tighter out of sheer reflex as he stood where he was.

“I asked you a question ya little half-breed bitch!” the first man growled at him, “Whatchoo doin’ on my street homie?!”

“I’m just going home,” Cliff stated calmly.

“You’re what?!” shouted one of the others, a bald-headed individual with muscles upon muscles.This man approached Cliff first, with the other two trailing behind, swaggering as most street hoods did. Upon their shirts he could see the BLM flag, one of the many that had sought to replace the symbol of the country that these piles of human garbage professed to love but had helped to tear down. That was his father talking to be certain, since Cliff had tried to do his best to just get by without causing any problems. Unfortunately, problems had a way of finding just about anyone. Case in point with the three men coming at him now.

“I’m just going home is all,” Cliff said calmly, standing his ground as the first to approach him pushed forward until his mask was almost touching Cliff’s face. The coronavirus that had ravaged the world only five years prior was pretty much gone, but some people still wore the mask since it made them feel stronger, more badass somehow.

“You don’t live around here!” the thug yelled, “I woulda turned yo ass out by now if you did little bitch! You in the wrong hood homie!”

“My home is-“

“Bitch I don’t give a fuck where your home is at!” the man shouted, “Matter of fact maybe I do. Gimme your address so I can go pay your mama a visit. C’mon little coon wannabe!”

Cliff sighed as the man shifted, his intentions quite clear as he shifted his hips and launched a haymaker at Cliff’s face in the next second. If he’d been anyone else, this might have worked. But Cliff had been living in the city for the last ten years, and he’d learned a few things in that time. This man obviously wasn’t a boxer, or a martial artist, and as such he likely had no defense for what was coming. As Cliff stepped to his right he swung at the same time, his fist crashing hard into the other man’s jaw with such force that the thug’s head rocked to the right hard enough that he didn’t have time to stumble before he went down, hard, to the pavement below.

That should have been the end of it, but of course it wasn’t.

(to be continued)

The Last Flag (part I)

America Must Prepare for These Worrying National Security Threats | World  Report | US News

Keep it hidden, keep it safe, the day will come when people will want it again.

That had been almost twenty years ago, and Cliff wasn’t certain that his mother’s words would ever come true. He kept the item, the precious item that he’d looked at so often when no one else was looking, under lock and key and on his person as much as he could since he was a teenager. But there were some days when it felt so heavy, as though it had gained weight with each passing day that he’d kept it hidden. But revealing it wasn’t the way to go just yet, especially not with the current sentiment that stood so firmly against it.

Had America gone to hell in the last two decades? Damned right it had, and he had the losses to prove it. As a half-black, half-Irish individual in what remained of America, he’d learned that he would be easily accepted by some if he did what his parents had taught him so long ago, which meant being respectful, honest, and forthright. But if he was caught being nice to said people he was called every vile and racist name that people could think of, and there were plenty since he’d heard a dictionary’s worth in the past 20 years of his life. Then there were the apologists, the anarchists, and those that had believed that tearing down the governmental structure of America had been the way to go. Reform hadn’t been enough, they’d wanted to tear it all down, from the White House to the police force to, well, just everything.

The politicians had fought, they’d tried to quell the fires that they’d started, but it had been too late. The cops couldn’t do anything any longer, as they were just another glorified street gang being paid by state politicians who were taxing their people into oblivion. This was no longer the United States of America. It was still America, but there was nothing united about it. Each state existed for itself and would gladly take what it could from its own citizens, all while denouncing each other and claiming why one state was better than another because of this or that. The worst thing was that due to the so-called government losing such vast control, the worst gangs, Antifa and Black Lives Matter, along with several splinter groups, had finally done what no one else could. They’d abolished the flag, the symbol of the United States, and they’d burned every last one they’d found.

The only reason one still existed, as far as he knew, was that they’d never found the one in his pack. But that particular run of luck felt like it was running out.

(to be continued)

Hell Came to Long Beach (part X)

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Angie was sitting at home, enjoying her day off despite the misgivings she had about lying to everyone. The cuts in her face were suspicious, the doctor had said, and they looked self-inflicted. She’d insisted that it was a freak accident, that her friend and boss Tiffani could corroborate her story and would agree that it was just a freak accident that had occurred. She’d been worried for Tiffani all day, especially after finding out what had happened to Becky and Katie. Her husband and her boys had made it clear that they were there to help her out, and she appreciated it truly. But somehow she couldn’t help but worry.

It was only when a breaking newscast came on that she felt her blood run cold. This feeling wasn’t helped when she saw who it was that was in the headline as Tiffani’s picture was shown on camera. She felt herself go numb again as the mention of a ‘secret tryst’ beneath the boardwalk was mentioned, along with ‘secrets’, and ‘revealing photographs’. But what made her truly glad that her husband and sons were currently outside doing something fun came when she saw the woman that had started this whole affair, her face a sobbing mask of grief as the reporter described just what had happened according to Casey, and how she had defended herself from the knife-wielding and obviously mentally distraught woman, Tiffani, that had come at her after being found with the bodies of two nameless drifters that she’d apparently been intimate with.

“No…” Angie stated, her voice trailing off as she heard that Grady couldn’t be reached for comment at that time. It was likely that he had no idea what to say, or what to even think.

“You bitch,” she whispered, “You disgusting, whoring, bitch!”

The newscast was cut off as someone hit the OFF button, though as Angie felt someone’s arm encircle her waist she suddenly realized that she’d been about ready to throw something heavy at the TV, the mug she’d been sipping from as she looked to her right hand. Even as she looked back to the TV her husband and sons were trying to subdue her again, but as she watched, the monitor came back on, this time dominated by Casey’s smug, smiling face. The woman’s lips turned up in a vicious grin as she wrinkled her nose in delight. Angie was screaming now, but she could still hear the words that drilled directly into her conscious mind.

“Don’t worry Angie. You’re next.”

The End

Hell Came to Long Beach (part IX)

This image has an empty alt attribute; its file name is long-beach-peninsula.jpg

Her traitorous body didn’t stop until she and Casey were well under the boardwalk, screened from sight by supports, a small hillock, and plenty of dune grass that blocked any easy line of sight from the condos that sat in the near distance only a few hundred yards away, or even the path that ran parallel to the boardwalk just ten feet away. She could likely scream for help, but as of yet she hadn’t tried.

“Here is good,” Casey said with way too much exuberance in her voice for Tiffani’s liking.

“Good for what?” she asked. To her surprise Tiffani had to drag each word out of her mouth.

“I’m sure it’s not a surprise to hear ‘you’ll see’,” Casey said with a grin, “Fellas? You can come out now.”

As though summoned by her voice alone two men suddenly made their way around the dune that had accumulated under the boardwalk, wrapping around just enough to hide this site from the view of anyone. The two men were dirty, disheveled, and looked as though they’d been sleeping outside for the better part of a month. Plus they reeked of something that Tiffani couldn’t help but think was their own excrement and some other vile concoction.

“Now strip,” Casey said to her.

“What??”

“You heard me,” Casey repeated, as she started to take off her own clothing. It wasn’t the nicest of days but at least it wasn’t raining. Yet still, Tiffani had no intention of taking off her clothing for anyone, as she had a bad idea of where this was about to go. The call of a gull in the distance reminded her that this was real, it was happening, and as her hands and fingers began to work against her, pulling the clothing from her body, Tiffani watched in horror as each article fell to the ground from her nerveless fingers.

“Ooh yeah, look at that body will you boys? You think she’s ready for this?”

“I am,” said one of the men in a gruff, panting voice. The other man didn’t speak, but his leering gaze spoke volumes as Tiffani found herself wanting to cry. As Casey began to tell her what to do, Tiffani couldn’t resist, no matter how much she tried. As the woman moaned and groaned she even felt her body reacting as the men touched her, grabbed her, and treated her to every depredation possible as she couldn’t help the fact that her body was reacting so favorably to all of it, the arousal sickening her in such a way that she wished she could vomit all over the disgusting trio. But nothing came, and despite her revulsion she felt her arms wrap around each one of them in turn, her fingers grasping at hair, at backs, at anything that she could hold onto as their crazed gyrations spurred her on further even as their own passions continued to rise. Through it all she dimly heard one click after another, though her pained and agonized sensibilities didn’t register just what it was until it was too late.

At one point she realized it was over as the men, both spent, lay to either side of her, fully-clothed once again and snoring peacefully, one of them with a smile on his face that made her want to….to…to what?

“Use them,” Casey said from behind her. Tiffani had no idea what she was talking about, but as she half-turned towards the woman she noted that in each hand she was holding a large butcher knife, the steel gleaming as though in anticipation of the violence to come.

“They hurt you,” Casey said, her voice low and enticing, “They used you, they humiliated you, and they took pictures,” Casey waved a smartphone in her right, grinning as she never took her eyes from Tiffani, “End them.”

It was as though a flood had erupted within her as Tiffani turned and thrust the blades into each body, one after the other, stabbing anywhere and everywhere, delivering deadly blows to their chests, their stomachs, their crotches, their throats, until they ceased moving and lay there, pain etched across their features as their crimson fluids. Turning around again she was taken by surprise as what felt like a series of hard, swift punches hit her torso in rapid succession as she dimly heard “No! No stay away from me!” Somehow the shots had come before the shouting, but as the ground rose to meet Tiffani’s surprised gaze all she could think of was how cold it had suddenly become.

(to be concluded)