haiku 23 Oct 2018

Yesterday is gone

Perhaps, tomorrow will come
Right now is tops, though

[ americanifesto / 場黑麥 / jpr / urbanartopia / whorphan ]

haiku 23 Aug 2018

Using kind loving
Storm-clouds lift, and greed abates,
Making the mind pure

[ americanifesto / 場黑麥 / jpr / urbanartopia / whorphan ]

haiku 14 Aug 2018

Cling not to objects
Whether found, lost, or stolen
Treasure but the mind

[ americanifesto / 場黑麥 / jpr / urbanartopia / whorphan ]

haiku 28 Jun 2018

quirky characters, in some strange work environs - is that The Office?
​
[ americanifesto / 場黑麥 / jpr / urbanartopia / whorphan ]

haiku 29 May 2018

Each time it’s the same: 
The nerdy guy gets the girl 
And the hot dude hangs 

[ americanifesto / 場黑麥 / jpr / urbanartopia / whorphan ]

haiku 30 Nov 2017

Minds free of thinking
Doing nothing, unconcerned
Are we on the Path?

[ americanifesto / 場黑麥 / jpr / urbanartopia / whorphan ]

not the time

“This is not the time to talk about my driving ability,” the man said as he pushed and shoved at the crumpled door of his wrecked car, trying to free himself. The other vehicle, the one he had just hit, was totaled; its driver, apparently unharmed, was standing on the tarmac, berating him.

“Look, I get that you’re upset,” the man went on, finally managing to open the door and pull himself by his unbroken arm out of his smoking former ride, forcing his way under the deployed side-curtain airbags. “Perhaps, at some point in the future, we could discuss my skills behind the wheel. Now, however, it’s inappropriate.”

As sirens wailed in the distance, approaching rapidly, he went over to sit on the curb down the street from where the crash he’d caused had occurred. The other driver, still fuming with rage due to the fact that he’d seen the man drop his mobile phone then duck down to root around for it under the seat, changed subjects. “This is also not the appropriate time,” the man replied indignantly, when the other driver paused to take a breath, “to discuss whether or not I have car insurance.”

americanifesto / 場黑麥 / jpr / urbanartopia / whorpha

take the piss

The sprite her long fingers they do seldom miss yet all she doth want is for to take the piss. She'll take it from women and take it from men and then turn right back around and take it again. Her aim is to learn how to tell funny tales about foolish humans and elusive whales but all of her thieving has just been a waste that leaves a few yellow stains up on her face. She'll keep on piss-taking and struggling though the ways of us humans to study and know and hers is a turbulent and stinky wake as long as she's chasing that wily piss-take.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

sleepy, sleepy Yyeirdoyesst

There did live once a sleepy man who'd snooze away the day, and slumber deep as cow and crook would make off with his hay. He'd rake again, the very next, and lament his undoing, but afterward, he'd choose to sleep, neglectful of his shooing. He slept so much that mountains sprites those nasty mischief-makers, hatched plan one night to make things right and filled up their dream-shakers. They stole upon the sleeping gent young Yyeirdoyesst his name was, and covered him from head to toe in sparkling shiny sleep-dust. You did too much (said leader-sprite, admonishing his cousin) for now this man will sleep not nights but years – perhaps five dozen. The sprites they panicked, cried and fled, they raced on back to hearths they knew, they wailed and gnashed and foamed with dread, young Yyeirdoyesst they left for dead. But here a goddess came along, her life a careless happy song, she saw the poor man sitting there, with ruddy cheeks and golden hair, and spied the mischief all too soon, and bore him off for home, the moon. Oh what is done?! (she cried aloud, remembering the veils and shrouds that guard the waters of the moon from mortal man's intrusion) act is act, for worse or better; with me he stays but not in fetters. And so she ceased his magic slumber, hoping he would soon recover. Yyeirdoyesst he sat upright, looked around, realized his plight, shrugged his shoulders, lay back down, then bid the goddess fair good-night. Enraged his sloth did made her, mere death it could not slake her, she quickly conjured up his doom, then cast his mug upon the moon, then cast his body down below, and now his face will ever show, on lunar surface brightly.

mentiri factorem fecit – 場黑麥

national celebration day

Today, 11 June, is the First of Seven Days of Grigovian National Celebration. The country would have like to celebrate some form of independence, but since it was never subjugated by invading hordes, nor was it ever enslaved by conquering army – by no one, not warlord Alexander the Great, emperor Xerxes II, the Ottoman Empire, the British Empire, the 3rd Reich, the Soviet Empire, nor more recent attempts by bannermen of Ynki imperialism – it simply chose a day at the onset of the summer months during which time everyone could let hair down and romp in hay. A rumor has surfaced claiming that on this day in the 13th century King Krukuv the Watchful dug his first tuber-hole (which is manifest even today as the leagues of tunnels that crisscross under Grig, the nation's capital), but none of the ancient text can corroborate this story, which is of no concern to Grigovians, who party whenever they feel like it and ask kindly that foreign powers stop pestering them.

mentiri factorem fecit – 場黑麥

belligerence holds sway

Citing a distinct lack of threats clearly and presently endangering the wellbeing and safety of the American people, that nation's own federal government stepped into the breech. “We have all these resources just sitting around, which if we don't use, we lose,” said a spokesperson for the inaptly named Department of Justice (DoJ), who asked that her name not be used. She went on, saying, “Therefore, we shall continue to rob Americans of their liberty until the violent crime rates rise again, there's a nation-wide epidemic of carjackings, or a similar situation arises to justify spending mountains of tax dollars on our existence.”

The DoJ is ratcheting up its efforts to prosecute and imprison Ynki civilians who insist upon exercising rights granted them in the XIV Amendment to their Constitution. “I smoke weed because I decide what to do with this body,” said upstanding citizen and small business owner Dwainn Robert Whittlewood, 36, of Detroit, Michigan. “And since a judge has never banned me personally from smoking that sweet sticky weed, the fourteenth Amendment protects my right to spark it up, toke it up, and smoke it up.” The National American Association of District-Court Justices (and their Spouses), an advocacy group, approached the situation more gingerly. Said their spokesperson, 54 year-old Wailandt Jane Hoffstedt, “Our jobs depend to a large part on busting people for stupid shit like smoking or possessing marijuana. It wasn't always like this – back before the federal government launched the longest war in our history, our foolhardy War on Drugs, we used to pass judgment on people who were truly a risk to themselves, or to society. Now, though, the cottage industry consisting of parole officers, privately-run prisons, lobbyists, and overseers has become so massive that it has taken on a life of its own, constructing policy and thriving on the death of individual liberty and the incarceration of non-violent drug offenders. Something has to change.”

There is no clear sign when the federal government might start protecting liberty instead of destroying it, although the courageous citizens of Colorado and Washington dealt clear blows to state-sanctioned oppression by passing laws that legalized the recreational use of marijuana. Perhaps, as some point this century, the rest of America will grow some balls and stand up the bullies in D.C. who harass us and deny us our liberty, this nation's lifeblood; we shall soon see, however, just how tyrannical our federal government has become, and just how far it will go to enforce unjust laws from bygone eras. (While researching this article, the author's trash was twice searched by federal agents, who at one point backed their car over his cat in their haste to flee direct, verbal confrontation.)

場黑麥 mentiri factorem fecit

docile raccoons for sale

Looking for that perfect birthday present for your sister's preschooler? Can't think of what to bring to your cousin's wedding? Agonizing over how to bring a smile to your spouse's face? If so, we at Ray B.'s Once-Wild Animal Sanctuaries have just the thing for you! Look no farther than through the steel-wire-mesh fence at our newest batch of docile, panting, oh-so-cuddly raccoons! Each frothy-mouthed beast comes with a pair of thick leather gloves to make handling and petting a safe and fun-filled breeze!

Watch with wonder as these normally-wild animals toddle over and all but lay down at your feet, begging for you to bring your thin-skinned fingers close enough to their mouths for them to bite you. Those little rascals! Their confused and often aggressive antics are sure to light up any stuffy office party, and their sweat-slick pelts all but beg to be washed, combed, and prettied up with lacy, red bows. Have a 'coon-combing party! Dare your friends to pull shiny coins from their pulsating, swollen throats! It's so much fun, we double-dog-dare you to do it.

Dear friends, loyal customers, do not delay further! So come on down to Ray B.'s for a furry little wonder of your own, today. (We also sell docile opossums, befuddled flying squirrels, toddling tree-squirrels, and addled baby deer, all of which come with a pair of thick, Kevlar-lined leather handling-gloves and the telephone number for your nearest infectious-disease clinic.)

場黑麥 mentiri manufactorem fecit

on the ancient Jailun

(This excerpt is said to belong to a lost passage of Herodotus's book, the Histories, regarding the Yaelong tribes that reside in the country known today as Grigovia.)

And then, after the emissaries from the East had finally left, and while our party was preparing to make camp for the night, men dressed in strange garb – brightly mottled animal skins – stole silently from the brush, as if they were spirits. We had chosen the grounds to rest because they neighbored cool, flowing springs, and because they sat in a small valley that our native guide said would shelter us from the heavy, dangerous winds for which the region is known. As soon as these men appeared, our guides' women, who otherwise never spoke, wailed in unison, and, cowering fearfully, begged us not to touch them, lest, the women claimed, we become tainted by their strange and powerful sorcery. After much difficulty in finding a common tongue, we, however, were able to speak with these spirit-like men, who called themselves Jailun; they were interlopers just as we were, and had no plans to kill us for trespassing on sacred ground, as we had initially feared. They told us of their home in a mountainous region with many valleys that lay north of the lands of the Eastern emperor, whom they knew well, as he had tried, they said, repeatedly yet each time unsuccessfully, to subjugate them – first by warfare, then by bribery, and then by arranged marriages. Each time they had denied the emperor his advances, and stayed always free of the yoke of foreign rule – by warring with him, by refusing his gifts, and by putting to death the women he sent. While we were breaking bread with these quiet men who were all armed with long, slender poles-axes and curious weighted throwing ropes, a male child – the son of a lesser guide – was carried off in the talons of a mighty eagle, and never seen again. All who had witnessed the event agreed that it was a bad omen, and a warning not to walk with a loping gait similar to that of the abducted child.

場黑麥 mentiri factorem fecit