Idiocy; And another bad joke

P: Doctor, I’m surrounded by idiots and it’s painful

D: Here is a brick and a permanent marker

P: Why?

D: Draw a cross hair on your forehead, then repeatedly hit yourself with the brick

P: But that will hurt? And I’ll look like the other idiots?

D: Yes, but it will be a lot less painful in the long run

Another Blogger’s pics hit the spot

A fellow blogger I have had many in depth exchanges with posted some photos, perfect pictures to make you stop and think

So unless she tells me off for highlighting them via my blog (really hoping I haven’t misread her gender and fucked up that bad!) I thought I would show them off for her

Here is her blog, much recommended:

KW 1KW 2

Just a calm expanse, cool clouds that threaten in the most beautiful of ways and no people or polluting additions to taint the shot


PS: To Mimi …really hope I haven’t pissed you off!

Death’s flower, Life’s petals

Withered stems of weathered roses
Petals bleak and colour fading
Flowers dying and rot ascending
A black rose stands in endless failing
The harbinger of the impossible
In a garden of corruptions making
A symbol of both life and death
But which path proven?
Without an answer’s reveal
The confusion unending

Reflections on a Battle unwanted

A wall against his back
A war facing where he stands
A weapon of unholy force his only recourse

A hand on his shoulder
A voice to say he can rest
A release from his battle

As someone else takes up the fight
A better candidate to carry the cause
And create victory where he would have made it worse

Warriors Repent

The warrior did look upon the bodies, a horde disassembled into piles of limbs, flesh and steel and all laying in the putrid mix of mud and blood that constructed the battle’s field of ill actioned chaos

Amongst the ruins of humanity that lay now in the bony hands of death the warrior saw eyes of figures splayed with red and brown, moving towards the failed ruins of the hordes camp, away from the green lands of where the war was meant to defend

“I hath spoiled my reputation, spilled my humanity upon the very blade that cleaved men in your name” a raised sword still dripping with the fluid of life “now you claim the enemy’s wreckage and do not thank me by reclaiming your homes, instead you cower in fright”

The crowd of huddled masses, startled eyes widened further with the reddened gleam of the blade raised to mark the victory “But you were the only afflicted, the one for whom you fought” boldly spoke a lone women draped in once white cloth “as much as we may reap the rewards of victory it is you who now we fear, the demon amongst our flock”

Unshackled from his armour, looking down upon the stained reflection staring back from dulled protection he once wore with pride “I see all you say in the way my eyes still burn bright with deathly lust” that blaze from the warriors glare still sharply lit, the release of his battle attire’s weight letting him more readily scan the carnage wrought for justice’s quest “but when I asked for help you faltered, told of the horde’s sins you jested action but failed to act”

The lone women daintily crossed the carnage, stepped around the limbs, steel and flesh without judgement or implied guilt on her face “And those of the horde were the sinners amongst us, only one of you remains now to carry their guilt” a hand on the warriors shoulder placed with care, another hand to help him release his grip on a weapon no longer wanted or wished “and that is yours to know as only you can, as our own part in this tale is ours alone to both use for judgement” a sigh heavy enough that the warrior felt her breathe “and so too for us to measure our own regret”

Into the scene rode an army ranger, the shine of his breastplate a stark contrast to anything once worn that the warrior had now discarded, and with a booming volume the ranger announced “We are here to save you” sickening pride in his gloriously superior tone “you can rest easy and let us clear up the mess”

The warrior retreated to his castle, the masses back to lives of light and life as official bodies arrived and helped them back to where they belonged but in bitter tones the warrior unrepentant remarked, for only his shadow, some faded conscious and the ghosts to hear “Where were the cavalry when I needed them most, my sins will now mark me because I was the worst choice for this quest” a heavy sigh to challenge that of the women “worse choice maybe, but the only one willing to stand the day and give this cause it’s deserved fight” some corrupted pride still capable of enjoying victory at a reputation’s price…

“It is easy to cast judgement on a loudly protesting man of ill mood and nature; when you refuse to see behind the rage and know what has triggered his lesser nature to rise in aid of righting wrongs, and damningly refuse to soothe or calm his wronged nature with a simple jesture of help”