Chapter 1 continues with Ep. #002 | The books of rules continue to govern them.

The inky trail's story continues on with, chapter 1b. this is Ep. #002

The author & poet

War, war, and yet more wars.

This is war, between the squares and the circulars. The cubes, however, they were somewhere in there. But as for them, as for those squares, to be fair, they were top-tier.

They were there just like always, yes, they had been sitting there, cozying themselves over in the old rocking chair, and savoring the fouled up musky air.

With not much to do over there, nothing other than to screw, and to unscrew the bottled beer, just like they already knew that they should not do. But screw they did do, and pop came the top off of the liquor jar.

As they would have swallowed hard at the bar brawl, while singing along to the songs of the piano man, he who was there playing away at the barstool stand.

And then, he would have gazed up at the singing shining star, fastened fast to the blanket there, yonder far.

But, in looking around in those places, those places which they would not have known afore-times, homely faces, they were to see that out there, yes, out there in those very places, there were some trees of the evergreens.

And outer yet further, yes, somewhere out there over the shoulder, there were mighty wooded forests, and yet other trees green, a called possibility his lying eyes would have come to see, seen? Seen.

He would have been sucked in right away. Like, like sucked in to be a wondering form, from that very day in and continuing on, and hence… Get the book here

…

Then there are the Lars. Shortened and Circular. Just the way how they always are, in particular.

They too were there gazing, spending many a days in, and out, out in the open looking about, and upward bend, you know, like, they were there bending the neck backward. And also watching stars, trackered.

And they sure like to have things staying just the way how they already are, his way he says, or no way at all. Yeah! That will take him far you know, because. He is a Lar. And everybody done knows that every Lar is a star. Ruff and buff, and that is surely going to be more than enough for them Larried Lars, and company.

The first casualty they say of any war, as it was to be discovered by far, is the truth, and the squares that brute, he did quickly majored in this sphere, true? True.

Not the youths though, youths, just the same as you. And him too, yeah! I’m pointing him out to you, can you not see him sitting there? Yeah! That would be him. He, just like all of the larried family, they majored in very little, if anything at all. So, it was the city four squares over there who would have majored in there, majoring in the major things fair.

Like, in knowing how to manipulate and twist other peoples’ truths, and all of the other things cute, in order for him to come up with several versions of the man's boot. They would have also learned how to create their own truthings, and how to pass those off as something soothing, or something else could have been brewthing, and that too could have been to their suits, things such as someone else's truths, or even worse, he could pass them off as the ultimate truth.

They would have also quickly noticed tooth, and while the Notice families were there giving ears to the mute. They would have picked up a note which says that people spoke just like pickney my childhood children wrote, for the most, as in part, and they like a lot to worship start and to throw spikey pointed piercing darts, and they were rather spiritual too, in the natural arts.

The Lars mostly so, so smart they are. Wink-wink, I’m thinking of a link-up of the shining star. So, the squares would have drawn themselves near, and go on out there, to out-steer them, and to make up something for them somewhere up there when, yes sir mister pointy finger, he makes gods for them up there, somewhere over the air. And stick them there to linger, somewhere between the right and the left ear symbols.

Other gods, too he made them all new, other gods than those of theirs, gods which they, the Lars would have known and worship afore-times far, and out of their godly fear.

And they would have given it to them to wake them up, and then send them off to the workshop. And to wonder working worship, and they did. Didn’t they give good godly gifts? Yes Siree, yes they did.

Meanwhile, the circulars were there busily majoring around in a round of golf, and gulping down the gullible in believing. Like, like, believing lies even. Lies chiefly …why? Why! My friend? Well, listen up while I sell you a pen.

The bigger the lie bend is the more likely then, that those circulars are going to be, in the belief in them. Suits squares very fine, fren-a-mine. You sure are a good friend. And then, along with all of them, and with their kind square friends. He would have gone out, and then went all about, and would have scouted out and spend, yes he did, he would have spent the time, and the necessary overtime. Creating signs, lie lines, among other tries and his alibis, things like, like strong and beautiful thighs. Tied up Military things even, and hang them on to long strings. And neck-laced them there below the teething.

And build big and scary buildings, which were so designed as to get the other wide-eyed void, you know! Those same rounded circular sides, got them trembling at the knee dem dem de de-dum dumb, dimension tumbling down, and keeps them running and rolling around.

By momentum too, tooth tooting towards nothing new, nothing else needed do, they are circular, rounded around there they are –remember?

So, squares just keep on keeping them in subjection and submitted. And believing in lies unlimited, even, and even the more.

“Because I have got to be sure, he was to snore. Be sure to be delivered from the iron ore, the gripping grips of this other odor, the lip-sticking grip of this squared person in proper.

And since I cannot do it for myself, then, there has sure got to be someone else, somewhere else, living somewhere other than here on these old dusty belts and that would be that someone, who will do it for me, someone more or less like a good, Godly god-fatherly personality, probably, and even his sweet untouched but yet touchable mother, maybe.

And since I have done given up on the godly goodness of my forefathers' family witness. Or was forced farther to give up and to forget the order, of all of them, so ordered by the other orders, which were sent down from the other men. The harder they came, the harder we went.

Then, I had better be sure to hold fast to the gods not yet bought, like, like the ones which he has given to me and taught, and go on and believe in them, and with all of me Ben, and with my whole heart too. I must believe that he will deliver, rescue and save me from all of my enemies, just like the man had said to me, he who had given him to me that day on the bed.” 

In the beginning, was the giver, and for this very reason, Steven did quiver. “And even after that I am done dead and gone to bed heaven knows,” the old man would have yawned and said this to his toes, forget the forgotten things earthen, heathen are those. There he goes, savoring the rose.

And after noting that there was nothing left here to pose, and he was to find out that, that said "other" man was found to be still there trampling up and down upon our father’s eternal possession, even then, the very same godly incarnations which he had graciously given. You know!

He would have given it unto me in that blessed day …when, on which day? On the very day when he was taking those very things away from me. But.

That very same God -oh my god, it is he who is going to avenge me against that man, who has proven to me without a shadow of a doubt left there in his right hand, or anywhere else left of there best, showing it up as proof for me to see, and still, he is showing it unto me even now, that he is really my mortal enemy. Yet, it is his gods which he has given who is going to save me, and get me into heaven. …Oh yes! I see. This I do believe though. With all of me, beau. Because, belief is all that I've got left of me, probably.

In the meantime though, out there, behind the bent head bend bow, the beat goes on, on the rows, on the part of that other man –look, there he goes, he is out there on the squares again.

They are still on the beat over there my friend, beating away on iron, and on steel, must be like how biting teeth feel.

They are building strong things over there to eat, and things to keep them secure in their seat. And in their newfound possession which they have taken away from meat, and from all other mighty men, not you though, because you are big and strong. So, you must live long, right? Right.

Or yet more beating they be, like, like beat you up, all of you, or maybe just some of you and your little pup, beat and take that which you have got left, if any, or that which you have not freely given up to him yet, even the last penny. And what for?

In order to pacify him and to get. Get goodly gifts, you bet, but he will not be pacified. On such things, we have never lied.

Or in order for you to go out and get a working man's working job. To help him along in the efforts to make and to fab. Fabricating for him those fabulous things, made in his factories and research labs, helping him to build yet more of his very strong things, designed to keep him in. And you out, no doubt.

While he was working though, you were there sleeping bro, or talking and singing, and boasting and grinning, and blogging, and vlogging, and giving information unto him –Loggen, how-to information even, now, go on in, the door is open so, go, go on in and give them to him.

Same kinds of things which he uses to build those very strong and beautiful things to kill. While you are left there with the nothings, still.

He though, he continues to build, building more of his beautiful things, beau, built them with materials which he took not from within, you know, not from within his own borders.

You already done know that they are those things which you did freely give unto him, in order for you to barter, but he was smarter, so he did make you had was to give up the very best of your everything, unto him, while you are left there with the nothing, still, and the trash remains, and ting and ting.

And then, when he was done with all of the good and best parts of them, the best of those things which you would have given unto him, he sends over the trash, the waste, and the remains. Hazardous waste even.

Where did you want the man to store them? On his own children’s playpen? Oh no, not so, that’s not how it is going to go, ever. So.

He sends it back to you as he must.

Pack them in and sends them over in the bus, again, and dumps it over on your brain, and on the heads of your children, and gets you to pay him for dumping them within, and lie to you yet again, and kill you, and lie to your children after you, and kill them too, and blame it all on you. Rightly so.

And then, those that are left of you? Guess what they eventually do? They choose him, yes, that man, him and his children, they choose him over you and yours every time. But. That's fine I guess.

Or should I jest? No? No gesturing behind will soon find what is to be found dead. Go fund a foundation. Probation. Stop that I say. Hint, hint. Obey. 

To be cont'd. Be on the lookout for Ep. #003, coming on Friday. Don't forget to subscribe and share, thank you. 

Previous episode                                                                   Next episode. 

“Power is not given, power is taken,” UN General Secretary, -Antonio Guterres. So, Go on, lie to me. Tell me you are worth saving. Again.