Ecotone

I see the world in shades of green. Everything from what mileage my car gets to how the university can reduce the emissions at the coal electricity plant. I even marched in a picket line for that one. You should have seen it, it was pouring rain nonstop for the entire time I was out there. The wet cardboard in my sign drooped as I was soaked to the bone. I was as sick as a dog the next day, but you know what? It was worth it. I just have to smile to myself whenever I think about it because deep down I know that I had an impact. Because of me the university changed their way of doing things. The world is a better place because of me.

Green is my Ecotone, what’s yours?

Get Out Of My Way

Don’t you hate it when all the cars in front of you are going the speed limit? Or even worse, under it? It makes me grate my teeth in anger. I just want to lay on my horn and blast right past them while flicking them off. Some how I do control my rage. Usually by chanting to myself, “It’s a limit not a minimum, it’s a limit not a minimum, it’s a limit not a minimum…

Scene: Bar/Dance Club

This is a little something I wrote on the back of a beer label last night when I was gallivanting around to downtown bars with friends.

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Red flows from the table tops as incense drifts, filling the area from ceiling to floor. Shouts of conversation can be heard over the thump of the bass. The table tips when leaned upon, shifting the liquid in my glass. On the dance floor women writhe and grind on each other while men stand around the perimeter drinking their beers. Glass bottles and cups line the ledge around the room with varying levels of liquid residing in the bottom of each container.

In A Nut Shell

Here we are
Just the two of us
Cramped in our apartment
That was built for two
One would think we would be used to it
Since we are twins and all
But these confines are tight
Even for two that had shared a womb
You have become salty as we aged
Actually, we had both changed
Which is why I can no longer do this
This living with you
Always soaked in beer
You wallow in your depression
Until properly roasted
I can’t deal with it anymore
I can’t deal with you
Soon I will break out of this shell
That we have been put in
And do something fun
For me
Like join the circus

Penumbral Gambit - Episode 1: Of Blasters and Credsticks

Disclaimer: Penumbral Gambit is a work of fan fiction set in the Star Wars universe. Several locations, items, and concepts belong to George Lucas and Lucasfilm Ltd. The picture is a combination of an image from Sergio Leone’s “The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly” and an image from Wizards of the Coast’s Star Wars Saga Edition role playing game book. This story and image is purely meant for entertainment. No copyright infringement is intended.

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I'm Dubja Buport, Gungan gunslinger and bounty hunter.

I grew up hearing about the Great Gungan Army and how it was formed. When I became of age I joined the army. I received my first training in the army. The Nabooian humans used Gungans as scouts and guards. Over time I realized how the Nabooians treated us Gungans, like pathetic savages. The more I hated how they looked down upon us the more I realized how right they were. The human army outfitted itself with guns and tanks while we used nothing more than clubs. Sure, we had energy shields and energy balls, but those weren’t enough. You can only protect yourself for so long. You need to strike out to beat back your opponent. Energy balls are only good against droids and machines. They are not good against a man. Not like a blaster. A well aimed blaster will drop a man in his tracks. As soon as I could I left the army in disgust and jumped system.

The cargo ship I hitched a ride on was headed to Malastare, the planet was on the Hydian Way trade route. I used my savings to purchase my first blaster, a Sporting Blaster Pistol. It was the best I could get and still be able to get a license for. While I was at the Galactic Republic outpost on Malastar I met up with the Hydian Way Bounty Hunter's Guild. Even in the high gravity the bounty hunters saw that I had a real skill with my blaster pistol. The Hydian Way Bounty Hunter's Guild worked to keep the Hydian Way trade route free from space pirates and other thieves. Most of their bounties came from large companies that needed to keep their freight safe. The bounty hunters were on their way to stop a space pirate and needed an extra gun so I joined up.

I kept working with the Hydian Way Bounty Hunter’s Guild for a few years. I learned everything there is to know about being a hunter and quickly moved up the ranks. It wasn’t long before I was taking down bounties on my own. Most companies pay for transport on one of their freighters, for me and my speeder bike, if I’m targeting a bounty for them so there is no need for me to have my own starship or know how to pilot one. Once I’m in the right area it’s just a matter of asking around and letting my blaster do the talking once I find the target. The perks of working for the guild include never having to set foot back into the savage wilderness. Starships can get quite cold, so I’m never seen without my all temperature cloak/poncho. It also works to keep my weapons out of sight whenever I’m in a civilized area.

My quick rise though the guild and results in the field must have caught the eye of one of my usual employers. There is no doubt in my mind that a corporate representative for some company passed my name along. Once I got the offer to join a bounty hunting group that worked exclusively for the Grand Chancellor I had to take it. I was starting to get restless with the usual scum that I have to pick up along the Hydian Way trade route. It’s time for bigger and better bounties.

Torrential Rains

There comes a time...
Like torrential rains that
Flood basements leaving
Algae and musty molds behind
And stink overhead while outside
A car is stuck mid-water
As signs are down and out,
Sandbags work fine but rushing
Water from torrential rains
Will always find a way through
Sandbags, objections and denials alike.

Abomination

Shelter the bomb
(Blasts from twin-bombs located
across a courtyard from each other
went off sending fragments with force and
shrapnel with disobedience meshing bone with
metal and death with life as one more...)
and the bomb doesn't give need to
having to build more shelters
from the bomb.

Lots

Erratic glare ice
Conglomerated slowly with
Falling wintrily snow in
Parking lots incorporated with
Lines that are covered so
It's not so concrete
On where to park
The sky keeps sagging
Integrating stacks and more,
Consuming the banality
Of another brightly lit sign

I Need a Drink

She poured me a cup of hot java as I poured through the files that she had brought with her. Somehow she had gotten her hands on expense accounts and meeting notes from several large companies. The coffee cooled as I poured over every detail, letting it seep into my battered brain. After reading through every scrap of paper twice I finally looked up with a sigh.

“This is huge. Where did you get your mitts on this?”

“A girl’s gotta have a few secrets. You know what this means, right?”

I looked down at my cold cup of coffee. “Yeah, I need a drink.” It was time to get some work done.

A Life of Into and Out of

Into and out of is really what it is all about, placing things into, and taking things out of, containers or their special places. Life itself begins when the penis enters the vagina, and consequently a sperm cell enters the female's egg. The fetus is housed in the uterus, until it makes its exit 9 months painfully later. To maintain this life, food must be placed into the mouth, after taking it out of its wrapper or container and involuntary biological mechanisms digest and then push the food out minus the nutrients plus the stink into the toilet and out the ass. You get into bed, you get of bed, and then maybe into the shower. Why is it we are so quick to get into our clothes when done? We want to get out of our skins. Out the door now and into your car where you take a CD out and put another CD in. You pull into your parking spot, and get out of your car and go into work where you go into your office and get into and out of your chair whilst taking pencils from pencil holders and files from file cabinets and coffee from coffee pots. You go home and put more food into your mouth and get out of your clothes and into your pajamas and bed. You fall into sleep and out of reality. Tomorrow you start over, much the same, and the next day too. This until before you know it the shuffling and sorting stops and they put you six feet under into the cold carnivorous earth. This, of course, a no-brainer, your coffin, is your final container.

Pay

When you get out of bed
In the morning or any other time,
You have to pay for it
It is not of choosing, get up
Get out and get something
You're in for the long haul
Someday, you'll have to die
Sometimes, like rain, you'll cry-
When you get out of bed
You have to pay for it

Just-

I will miss you
But I will always-
always with a smile
remember you
(this is with gestures).

Green & Blue

Windswept leaves gently brush
The obliging air as
Supple sea embraces, flowing softly on;
A shoelace above dances over a perched rock
As a camera clicks capturing sunlight
Dripping and soaking, bouncing off
The slight sound of stillness
Offered by losing the reasons why.
The green fawns over the blue

(Elsewhere

A tongue clatters the roof of a mouth as
As a brain fills with blood as an aneurism is bursting
With odd excitement like the rapist that just finished
Leaving a half-live behind heroin might work but
A first love is dissolving, insurance agents talk with
Paramedics on a state of affairs their wives don't know about and so
Some are starving for food or connection, cautiously the latter say,
"I just want you to know me!" while the former barely can gasp.)
And the blue fawns over the green (The ball bounces).

Nosferatu

Nosferatu at the site of what may be encroaching daylight on recent press perfunctory for his remade somber German Expressionist film of the same name. He had an air of disdain for the remake similiar to the notion that he was more 'keen' to the original. He passive-aggressively implied that the temperature of Hollywood bullshit was exceedingly, seemingly and sometimes invariably melting polar ice caps. He went on to say 'off-the-record', but I am not one for records, that he was sorry for being part of a so-called faux bipartisanship and that it was all one conglomerate and their job was to shuffle drama so you can watch it and teeter back and forth between the fake liberal media and the fake neo-con media and wonder which way is which while they make more money and you wonder about football and Anna Nicole. He had a moment of truth, like deer-in-the-headlights, and said something about East Timor and genocide and then he caught himself and focused on catching his orb. It was quite bouncy. The sun was rising and he had to get a little shut-eye from all the ballyhoo. They had ideas of taking over lands with new plans.

Mr. Funbags

I have a surprise for you today
Things are not as they've seemed
I was away and not taking messages
It was secret fun
Embedded deeply, seemingly, in a private
Life, away from the apparent, and
rationalized perfectly, it was dazzled
With spotty sprinkles of denial
I didn't think about it then
And I don't think about it now
I figure everyone has trysts and these same
Secret things
They are rather harmless, depending
Upon your morality or disposition, however, my
Inclination is relative to animal, primordial
Itches and urges and take-offs
It was something I fell into
So I guess you don't know me
And I don't know you either