Feces Occurs (**** happens) What is life - just a tail full of burs. We go seeking princes, but they all turn out curs. They buy us vacuums, when what we want is fresh fleurs! We try to avoid it, but feces occurs. Wishing for compliments, we only get slurs. Why is it "Prince Charming" comes to bed wearing spurs? The man seeks a woman who is meek and demure, then she finds out painted hussies are what he prefers! Seeking nirvana in the arms of some sirs - Women find smelly socks, empty beer cans, and hairs that aren't hers! Yes, we try to avoid it, but feces occurs. If we'd just stop being baited by these masculine lures! Now, I'm depressed. Time to drink the liqueurs!

Sorry, I don't know you - but, I can relate. Try to find a calm center, and don't do anything violent, eh... at least, not with a lethal weapon. On the other hand, it might be a great time to write it all out - who knows, by venting your anger in print, you just might have a best seller! Above all, be careful and be good to yourself. (suggestions from an old lady who has been through a lot.)

Fascinating analogy - It breathes new life into my old fascination with Russian dolls, for better or worse. It has me thinking of my outer skin, and wishing for a few more coats of lacquer. Very well done. Interesting subject. I can relate.

I can not tell a lie. No, really, I mean it! My pappy made me honest by bible-beltin' me regular!

So, what I'm a gonna tell ya is the gosh-darn truth, believe it or not! (But you can believe it, 'cause like I said, I can not tell a lie!)

Now, I has it on good authority, see, on account'a the sheriff being my second cussin once or twice removed, that a real, honest to goodness spaceship landed here in Energy back in 1991! These dumb aliens was runnin' outta fuel, and they used their high-tech gizmo to select a likely spot to fill-er-up...

Well, the joke was on them, cause we ain't never had more 'en one pump in this here town, and it's always bone dry by the third week of the month.

So, there they sat, back o' Baxter's store, and old Willy, he goes out with his shotgun and calls 'em out. Them Baxter's never did hold with no squatters.

Meanwhile, his brother Charlie's a'callin for the sheriff in Comanche, on account'a they got that nice jail they built back in 1903 with a special space for lunatics, and he figured aliens might be fittin' in that category.

Well, ol' Willy was acting bold as brass 'till a door slid open on that thar ship. He back-stepped like he'd been bit by a rattler, and tripped over their ol' hound Barney, who was cowerin' on the ground with his tale between his legs. Poor Willy's head came down on the water pump like a ripe melon, and split clean open.

When Charlie came out and seen Willy's head all a' splattered, he got filled with that ol' righteous rage,
and charged at that doorway like a bull in heat. Yep, he was ready to kick some alien butt, that's fur darn sure.

But when he got inside, all he saw was a little ol' grey lady - not just her hair, mind ya, but grey all over, and she's a grinnin' at him and holdin' out a plate a cookies and lookin' for all the world like his dear ol' departed ma!

Well, let me tell ya, all the fight n' fury went clean outta ol' Charlie. He got all misty-eyed and that thar alien lady just wrapped her little grey arms around him and gived him a big hug.

Well, just about that time, the Comanche sheriff shows up. He spots poor ol' Willy laying dead as a heap of old compost, and sees this alien holdin' on tight to ol' Charlie. Bein' the law from a real town, he figures Charlie's a hostage, so he starts a yellin', "Let the hostage go. Come out with your hands up."

He wus speakin' english, so that little ol' alien lady didn't have no idea what-so-ever what he wus saying, but she let go of Charlie, and picked up that thar plate of cookies again and started for the door.

Well, that Comanche sheriff popped off a double round quick as could be, and winged that little ol' aien lady in her cookie-carryin' arm.

Ol' Charlie just about went crazy. Next thing ya' know, he's closin' that door, and revvin' that engine!

And that's why the sign reads, "Energy - Population 63" when it used to say, "65."

School is such a tragedy, especially during the summer.
Nature calls, but I'm stuck within these dismal walls!

ME!
I am now the lonely, hapless victim
of the "compulsory education" system!

It isn't that I have anything against learning,
even though I'm pretty sure that I know
just about everything I need to know.

The problem stemmed from my conviction
that I should be the master of my fate,
the captain of my soul, free to sail
when and where I pleased.

Well, my ship seemed to be surrounded by sharks
intent on keeping me dry-docked in boring classes.

This crazy school notion of "assigned reading!"
What nerve! No one was going to tell ME what to do!
(Okay, I can admit it. My middle name should have been "rebellious.")

It wasn't that I had anything against reading, either.
I LOVE to read! I do it all the time!
It's just that I don't want to HAVE TO read
about stuff that doesn't interest me!

Hey, I should have rights, ya know?

This is how I became expert at making book-covers out of brown paper bags.

This year was going to be different! As they handed out the textbooks for each class, I carried each home and make a neatly fitted cover, labeled appropriately with a big black marker, "History," or "Science," or "Government," or whatever other ridiculous thing they were force-feeding me.

When I had them all covered, I headed for my local used book store. Using my basic solid geometry skills (walking along the shelves with textbook in hand until I found some of the same height and width and depth), I picked out books of interest that fit inside my textbook covers.

Out with the old, in with the new! History became mythology, science became science fiction, and government became poetry- and nobody ever noticed a thing!

I spent a most enjoyable school year that way, with my nose in my books,
and my mind pleasantly adrift, looking oh-so-studious for once in my life!

Unfortunately, for all my apparent diligence, my homework was laughable and my test scores were dismal. The teachers reported to my parents that, though I was demonstrating a great deal of interest and desire, I simple wasn't grasping the material.

Final exams would be my last chance to pull up my grades to passing. Unfortunately, at that point,
all the cramming in the world couldn't save me from my awful fate...besides that, I couldn't remember where I had stashed the darned textbooks anyway. (The fee for unreturned textbooks came to $136 which my parents will be deducting from my allowance all summer long!)

So, here I sit, detained in this torture chamber called "Summer School," while my friends play in the sun at the beach...GGGRRRRRRRRRR.

What's worse, in summer school, I can't read what I want - they don't let you take the books home!

I like the way you describe your characters. It's late, yet I stayed with the story. I'm a little concerned about the language question. Perhaps, with a space traveler, it might be better to ignore the issue completely, rather than have this unexplained coincidence that they all speak English. (Either that, or resort to a "babble-fish" in his ear.) I'm looking forward to the next episode (-:

Dear Dialyn - This was challenging, indeed! I'd have given up, if not for the link to the organizer (sestina generator), lol! The hard part was not changing my words half-way through! I used the first six that popped into my head and decided to deal with them. Perhaps it would be fun if you gave us your six favorite words, and we all had to create using them? I have always avoided structures - I truly do need motivation and practice in this area! Thanks for providing the opportunity. ~Tien

Leaders spout out an edict,
tightening the weave of their designed fabric.
Blind minds cannot see the hypocrite,
nor sense the evil given birth
by the fairy tale stories covering lies.
Unwitnessed is morality's death!

Innocence and ignorance succumb in muted death,
as dictators delight in pronouncing their latest edict -
softening the blow with sugar-coated lies;
warping to their whims the moment's fabric,
as their greed and power-hunger give birth
to the apocalyptic dreams of the hypocrite.

With forked tongue dines the hypocrite!
Destiny usurped by manipulated death,
while hidden goals receive an evil birth.
"This is how it shall be!" decries the edict.
Pulling of strings so warps the fabric!
In a twisted web, reality lies.

Ask them no questions and they'll tell us no lies;
"Do as we say, not as we do,"whispers the hypocrite.
Shut your eyes to the frayed and twisted ends of our fabric!
Perhaps they are making a shroud for our death.
Blind obedience to the edict -
Free thought buried like after-birth!

Were we all born blind at birth?
Are none capable of discerning lies?
Is their no ungovernable soul to question an edict
and challenge the behavior of the tyrannical hypocrite?
If this be so, we do deserve unmartyred death!
If this be so, we are naught but the fray of life's fabric!

Mother, bring forth your belligerent child to tear this vile fabric!
To new ideas and higher ideals, I pray ye, give birth!
Do not watch your children die this silent death,
that came from being nurtured with lies!
Pray, let them challenge the hypocrite!
Let them not meekly bow to the dictator's edict!

Unchallenged, dogma and edict warp life's fabric,
The hypocrite thrives by controlling free-thought's birth!
At the end of a path of blindness lies only a living death.

I was ready to ask if I might forward this to a friend in this situation - then I read further. The end is not the one I wish to send her! Very moving. I enjoyed the flow. Also, I didn't know of an alternate meaning to fisted (see how bravely I type it out, lol) - I agree, you must let the words flow, but appreciate those who inform you of new definitions. Let it flow - let it go! May the tide bring new loves to every shore!

Very moving - left me with the urge to reach out, give her a motherly hug, and encourage her to be more genuine in her public face. Perhaps then, her nights would not be so desolate...perhaps she would find truly compassionate friends, not just those who admire the packaging without interest in the contents. Lol - sorry, great write - it really struck a chord in me!

Ahhh - I wish my weeds were as lovely! I am new to Renderosity, and am thrilled to find that I can post both my art and poems here! (As soon as I figure out how, lol.) The poem reflects a deep appreciation of nature in it's natural state! No herbicides from me!