My fencing coach offered me a job for next year and the summer after that to help him in his newly appointed position of responsibility to oversee the creation of a youth league of fencers, here, in Austin, Texas! This effort is part of Olympian Tim Morehouse’s Fencing In The Schools program which has already added fencing as a competitive sport and part of the PE programs in many schools. My coach Gary Murray Sr. previously was responsible for the advents of the majority though probably closer to entirety of the fencing clubs here in Austin and I am so happy he still has such a great impact in the sport! Long story short, getting payed to fence…. simply, epic!!!!!!!
artists
Haiku Uno (Started Counting In Latin)
Feet importing and exporting
Atoms with dust underfoot
Bare toes
MUSE 5/19/13 – DAILY INSPIRATION – SONG II
Comment with the outcome of your inspiration!
Muse 5/19/13 – Daily Inspiration – Song
Comment with the outcome of your inspiration!
Courtesy of Generic Rapper
I can’t sing but I can rhyme words with cuss words in between the regular words.
Modern History Poem II – “Not Enough”
http://www.cnn.com/2013/05/14/justice/pennsylvania-abortion-doctor-regrets/
Shake your head at their verdict
Your stoic brow might outlast theirs
Not enough
Nurses nurse wounds immortal
You taught them their art
Not enough
Sigh your death-gasp
Others may yet find voice
Not enough
Sound of scissors sundering spine
Will their last screech find audience in your ears?
Not enough
Innocence in your garden
Snipped at the spine like a parasite
Not enough
Modern History Poem I – “What You Say Can And Will Be Used Against You”
http://www.cnn.com/2013/05/13/us/justice-ap-phones/index.html?hpt=hp_t2
“(CNN) – The Justice Department secretly collected two months of telephone records for reporters and editors at The Associated Press, the news service disclosed Monday in an outraged letter to Attorney General Eric Holder.
The records included calls from several AP bureaus and the personal phone lines of several staffers, AP President Gary Pruitt wrote. Pruitt called the subpoenas a “massive and unprecedented intrusion” into its reporting.”
Media
Of the Government
By the Government
For the Government
We, the people;
Guardians of our Government
Securers of Prosperity
And yet there is Sloth in Abundance
The 1% as it were
Listen to your every word
Right to Freedom of Speech
Necessity still yet Time’s Bastard Child
Somewhere, a disk, a file…
Your voice
Words for you father,
Your mother, brother,
Sister, friend –
Your voice
Some sick man’s play thing
Obsession of our protectors
Overseers of our prosperity
Government
Of the People
By the People
For the People
First Red Known By A Texas Fireplace And It Ain’t A’ Sizzlin’ !
Chimney cardinal
Bosom feathers’ scarlet mote
Within dust wind wake;
Scattering circus troops mime
Embers despite Texas heat
From the Womb of Tempests
Corn oil thunder
Trees yanked to their roots
Serving as springs for
Wanton winds from
East to sudden West
Redirected wrath
Raised to full onslaught
Trees of their birth
Forsaken as if
Mothers of Vultures,
Whose cadavers’
Single solace is
Found as calories
Within the glutton’s
Gut of filial piety
First Trek
Immersed in the light of night and day bouncing off the Pale Goddess I awoke
Shafts of gold dyed in silvery white streams rolled in slow motion, alighting themselves
At my feet and upon our cushion, the heath, provided by our Great Mother silent in might
Awaking I gathered up my bow, skins, and a pouch made of fire-treated wendigo stomachs
As I began to push my brother down the hill, he sprung at me like a hissing bakeneko
I laughed, father had been training him in the Arts – fishing, whittling, cooking, but most
Importantly, hunting. I had taken advantage of a silly habit of tradition – the necessity of alert;
When they come of age, usually four Treks old, it is tradition for the father to stalk them like prey,
It is the only way to know if they will survive – youths are prepared for the Trek’s long hunt and my
Brother was no exception. I had thought he would stop and think, no, he came on in force,
Shoving me with what must have been twenty flints of force, I lost balance, and felt Mother’s
Slap in the face for being so naive as I descended down the hill, my bones withstanding Her
Test as I endured the jagged hornstone. Leaping upon me, as he pulled a poisoned flint dirk to my throat, I screamed! “Jokulu it’s me, Taranpsh! Your bloodbound, your kinsworn, your brother!” “Brother! He chortled, releasing the death-stone from my neck. So quick to make fun When you can’t even protect yourself, I would’ve slain you like a ratatoskr!” “Fair fortune you held Your blade, father is probably watching from the boughs even now as we speak.” “He would
Understand, I have to be on my guard this first Trek, father’s hand will not stray or hinder as did
Mine..” “And for that I thank you, farewell kinsworn, but here, before I make my leave, here is Some ratatoskr soup, not much for sustenance but there’s bound to be some speed in that there
Soup, the impish hawk-scout was back on his way up to relay a message to the gods-eagle
When I snatched him up, maybe he’ll help that stubborn dimwit that lingers still in your thick skull.” “Oh, but brother, for once I think you have proven yourself to be a little rough around the edges, am I right? Hah hah, well thank ya’ for the damned, liquid rodent, and be off with ya’!
Taranpsh sped out into the dark, forested recesses under the half-gaze of their father.
As Jokulu set up camp, a chilling thud shook the ground enough to set the poor, hungry, tired
Youth back on guard, death-stone in hand. He knew it was his father but he couldn’t sense the
Difference between the wind and his father iin the brush’s rustling. Suddenly a spear soared and embedded its jagged edge into the ground where he had been standing, nearly blind in the dark. The leap had saved his life. He quickly rose to his feet, bent his knees, and was back on guard. Feeling a slight breeze of warmth at the tip of his shoulder blade he sped around and lunged Forward, just barely nitching flesh at the end of his strike. A minute amount of blood covered his right hand as he retreated, returning to his guard. “Keen strike son!” He heard from the undisturbed blackness. “I’ll be back tomorrow, set up camp, and don’t let the blight’s chill get to You before I do, dreams!” And he was gone. Returning to his work, Jokulu had set up camp and Was asleep within twenty of our minutes and one of their ‘encampments’. Jokulu and his kin are
All proud members of the race of humankind that resides within the walls of the world known to Its inhabitants as Hitherheim. In Hitherheim, all the states of humankind can be seen throughout History. Some clans of humans are quite advanced in the sciences and other bodies of study While others remain in cultures that might be compared to those of time periods including those
Of the modern, pre-modern, post-classical, classical, and other time periods. Hitherheim is Composed of humanity’s entire experience up until our current era however shows a version of Our own world where human ideas are also reality; even those including such constructs of the Mind as mythology, fantasy, religion, and any and all other fictions and non-fictions ever devised.
End of chapter 1
“Let the firefiend purify this cursed hell-spot! The Nether hath no fury like that of Morning Morrow! Wretched curr of days, hide thy gleaming face, and let me rest yet a little while more! Damn Thee, I’ve risen, now retreat to mock this scowl!”
Two encampments past his waking, Jokulu began his day’s march east, he needed water and Knew he must reach the Wellspring by moon’s rise or fall prey to the elements; the most Dishonorable way to die…
Spontaneous Creativity 