Opinions are often seen as ignorances, understandings are seen as misunderstandings, misunderstandings of Opinions is the understandings of ignorances.
bysanyavero
January 22,2013
Fear not my Brave Knight, I forever be by thy side. But you got to stop hording my Lord, I can’t get to you from nither side.
bysanyavero
January 22,2013
From morning to-night, before the picture, during the picture and after the picture a story can be told. But by who . . .The picture taker, a witness, no . . .The person in the picture can tell you a thousand words about the picture.
Whether the person got up and dressed and washed for the morning, in the dark or light. Then eating a good breakfast or having nothing at all or maybe that day there was no food to be had. Then getting ready for the day, leaving the house, where there could be a thunder storm or the morning sun shining bright as you hurried on your way forgetting sun glasses or no wind at all in the air, making the morning quiet eerie still. Then going out into the day driving a car, riding a bike or just walking. That or running for their lives sneaking out and about, hiding tree from tree to bush to bush. Many things can and or will happen up until the point of the picture taken.
Then again it all depends on what you wish to describe about the said picture. Things like;
Look, that’s me. Not very much information about the picture except for the fact that it is a picture of me. What else can you tell me about this picture one may say. I don’t know another may say. It’s a picture of me, i can’t even tell you who took it or why, forget where it was taken i do not know. The picture was given to me a long time ago. You can have it if you like. In that case one may say, as a thousand thoughts run around in their heads about this lonely picture with stories of told.
Or we have pictures belonging to people you wished, you would have never asked about. Because it is time to sleep and they are still flapping their lips like slamming barn doors in a wind storm. And now you are looking around the room looking for anything that will help stay close the doors. Tic-toc.
Then you have the people who start saying things like; i know you can’t see the tree branch at the top of the tree in the picture, but their was a cat stuck up there. You should have seen it . . I was just standing there minding my own business, cause my friend wanted to take a picture of me before they left for town, but forgot the picture on the table and i got stuck with it when they left . . .But out of no where this cat came catapulting at me and jumped off my head up into the tree in chase of a squirrel or a bird or what ever it saw. You can’t see the blood because it is on the other side of my head. And believe me the claws were sharp. That damn cat. We both stood there for a while watching after the cat to see if it caught anything, which it did not and then it could not get down so we tried calling to it and i went in and got a bowl of milk and as far as i know the cat is still in th tree . . .Well in the picture it is, that cat will be up in that tree forever. But that is not all . . .They will go on to tell you about the birds in the tree over across and out of the picture mocking the cat.
But then you happen to come across a picture that has nothing to do with you or anyone you know. And the picture presented with-in the picture before you screams out a 1,000 words of why or how when and what, who can do such a thing. Then your mind makes up stories of your wonderings and what may have happened to cause this picture and it’s taker. You can sit looking at a single picture for hours and or days, dreaming up all sorts of things and none of you thoughts are right.
Then we have the pictures that someone sat or stood and painted or drew, spending hours days or minutes to create a scenery or a happening in their mind. Telling a story of how they feel or what they know or juts get things off their mind. Maybe just putting the right colors together allowing the looker to see what he/she wants. What were you thinking when you painted that picture? One may say . . .I don’t know. My dad yelled at me for being late coming home from school and sent me to my room, telling me to stay in my room until i thought about why i was late. I did all ready tell him i was late because we had dance practice after school, but he told me to go to my room anyway. I had nothing to do so i painted this. Well it looks mixed up or something, one may say. I was feeling confused the painter may say.
Then we have the pictures that are really worth a thousand words. these pictures are the pictures of our lost or missing or gone Loved ones. People or pets that were and are special to us that which we are never to see again but for this picture. These are the true thousand word pictures. Upon seeing them we sit and think about anything everything there is about the picture. Doing our best to remember all the joys and sorrows this picture represents to us. All the memories come crashing back all at once or a little at a time as the forgotten stories unfold in your mind. Then you sit and remember the days you were there with these people or pets wishing you had more time to share or spend with them, even if just to take one more picture or to say one more thing of how you Love them and wish they were with you.
Hush now little one don’t you cry, there is nothing i can do to help you. Your mother is gone along with everyone else and she won’t be coming back. You are stuck here with me . . .I am stuck here with you. Don’t cry.
Hush now little one it won’t be long, the winds are blowing i can feel it strong, you will call for the bees you will dance for them all, they will come from far places . . . They will save us all. Don’t cry little one, you need to be strong.
Hush now little one follow my feet, watch my arms and keep the same beat, hold your hands high up to the sky make figure eights, keep the arms straight. Stop crying my dear stop and listen hear, try it one more time and get it right.
Hush now little one. Stop that crying, your mother is gone just like Barb!
Dance you have to dance, dance like the bee, bend your body forward and wiggle like me. Wiggle and waggle just follow me, little steps, little circles, then turn back around. Dance little girl, dance to save the world.
Cleveland was getting tired and not feeling well. He need to rest and Sarophia wanted to cry. Home is said, i want to go home, mommy said to stay in the cellar, until she comes, to get me out. Don’t leave she said or she will take my puppy. Your puppy is gone little girl, stop that crying, eat a honey sandwich. Now come on, sit over here, eat and rest we will dance some more.
I don’t want to dance, i’m not a bee. I want my mommy and puppy, leave me alone.
Cleveland looked at the clock . . .It was a quarter past three. Tell you what. I will take you to town if you stop that crying and eat. Let me rest.
So there they were . . .One facing the other, a man who didn’t like cry babies and a little girl who wanted her mother.
Tell me your name one more time little girl, or should i call ou cry baby. he chuckled at her, she frowned. . .Sarophia . . .S A R O P H I A. Cleveland smiled. I didn’t ask you to spell it, now go on, eat that up, it’s good for you . . .You’re a big meannie . . .Yes, yes . . .that’s okay, you can call me Cleveland, and if that is to hard for you, you can call me Cleve.
He went over to lay down . . .Listen Sarophia . . .I need to rest my eyes for a while, see that big hand on the clock? Yes, my mommy showed me for when it’s time to go to bed. That ‘s good, he told her . . .When the big hand goes all the way up to the top, i want you to pump some more cold water in the pail and put it on my head. You think you can do that for me?
She did. Sarophia ate the honey sandwich and when the time was right, she pumped the cold fresh water from the pump and dumped it all on his head! He gave a good yelp . . .
They would go into town and she would see her mommy was indeed gone and she would learn to dance the bee dance.
In the mean time, Sam was on his way to do some shopping and the strange girl was soaking in the river, drinking in all the cool fresh pure water running down stream from the mountain tops. She was not feeling well . . .She was stung by a bee.
How funny is that statement . . .GO ask your mother. Don’t all fathers say that. Most of them . . .Yes they do. Go ask your mother.
Thing is, it always has something to do with the tender side of things, like sex.
Silly fathers . . .Mothers just slap us in the head and tell us to ask of the fathers.
Today i re watched a movie called 172 hours . . .FANTASTIC SCRIPT FANTASTIC ACTOR.
I watched this movie last night and again this day. It took me to understand the name of the movie to days . . .172 HOURS.
The actor SOLD THAT MOVIE and nothing else.
picture this pee-wee Hermon playing the part. Sure, the spot, they choose to make the movie was spectacular. But what would it matter if the person acting the part was horrible at acting.
YOU WOULD FIND A DIFFERENT MOVIE TO WATCH, that is what.
I’m telling you 172 Hours is a fantastic watch for movies and actors.
Cleveland was singing away to his loud country music, while making another batch of honey. He had already eaten a honey sandwich, and would soon be making another. It was a tradition he always kept. New batch, new sandwich.
Queen bee 1 (Photo credit: quisnovus)
Fifty yards from his hut, stood a six by eight shed, which held a large generator and five of the large size gas cans, a lawnmower and tools. The electrical wire ran under ground. Then on the back-end of this shed, a special room holding only a portable toilet and sink. He did not believe in getting caught squatting behind a tree, besides he enjoyed the comforts of a magazine and a locked door.
Cleveland stood five eight and had thick jet black hair. His Bees were everything to him. When he was not at work, which he held for twenty-five years, you found him with his bees. This he worked at practically all his life. His father taught him when he was six, now he has his own bees. If one were to meet him, they would think, he was grumpy. But if you knew him, you would know he was a very nice man. It is that he was raised by his father to be very strong-willed. [If you want it, get it]. And that is what Cleveland was all about, he let nothing get in his way. No Barrier could stop him. The only time no ment no was when he wasn’t asking. Other wise no ment no. Plus he had 100 & 2 wise cracks stored under his belt. He always had something quick to say when need be. But then there were times when he said nothing at all. Just look at you for a moment or two then quietly look away. Cleveland was a good stable man.
Image via Wikipedia
And right now, he was doing what he wanted, preparing jars of honey and eating it, unaware of the outside world and what was happening in the small town three miles from his Bee-hut.
Image via Wikipedia
Dead people littered the town everywhere. Dead cats. Dead dogs. Dead birds. Death everywhere. Another red flash followed by the third painstaking screech. Then all would be silent. Power started turning off, electrical currents came up from the ground. Telephone lines were catching fire and exploding. Sattel light dishes gave off sparks and burned out. Anything with an alarm went off until it died out. Everything dead had bled from the ear nose and eye. Everything dead started to dry up, turning to dust. A vapor could be seen swarming up to the atmosphere.
He spun quickly as his music turned off. There he saw Iola, she was bleeding from her nose, and he noticed, it running down her left ear. “What did you do . . .Fall down like a baby? You need to wash, there is a sink and a cloth out-back. Go use it.” He gave a small chuckle. “Cleveland something is wrong . . .Something happened . . .Everything went red, and this loud noise, something is wrong. Didn’t you hear it.” Yeah , yeah you are red and wrong.” He smiled at her. “Now get washed.” “Cleveland look at me.” 
He stopped what he was doing. ”Something happened out there. . .Do i look normal to you, i’m bleeding from my nose and ear, everything hurts, please i’m scared. Something is out there.”
Meanwhile Sarophia’s mother was a pile of red dust and Steve‘s head bob out of the water and he swam to the empty boat. The only thing he saw was red dust and no sign of his best friend. The only thing that could be heard, was Sam’s name, being called out over and over again. Steve went back under water to search for his friend incase he fell overboard.
Sarophia stayed in the dark under ground, where her mother told her to stay, with the threat that should she come out, before her mother came for her, mommywould kill her cat. Sarophia was old enough to know mommy always did what she said she was going to do. So she stayed underground in a [ u ] shaped dugout, way in the back and around the turn, up against the wall with her flashlight, where she would wait, but for now, she fell a sleep crying as the wait was too long.
Don't dare come out. Mommy will kill your cat
And right now, in the small town everything with-in a forty-foot range of them, lie dead, {people, cats, dogs, birds and other creatures }. And from everything dead, came a gray hazy smoke being drawn up, into the mouth of the two hot white. This is happening world-wide on your country side. All humanity would suffer this way of death unless something can be done.
I’ve always had this excuse, that i would always say,Well why should i know, when no one tapped me on the shoulder and told me. And no . . .I have never heard of such a thing . . .Mean while everybody and their dogs are walking around with it . . .Go figure.
People always tell me my eyes are to white. Well what does that mean? I would stand in front of the mirror chewing up my time just staring. Then i always had this same boy calling out at me . . .Hey you. Where did you get that pepsident smile . . .I didn’t like looking at my teeth or anything about my teeth, they called bugs and other names. So i would always smile and laugh at the person never catching on i was indeed showing my pepsident teeth, wherefore everyone in ears shot laughed. And to tell you the truth i only found out now as i type you.
So I have white eyes and white teeth . . .So maybe be some of you now just know i was here first and choose to live amongst you. I am the oldest
YOU BROUGHT ME BACK FROM MARS THE VERY FIRST TIME YOU INVAIDED MY MARS MY HOME . . .I CHOSE TO LIVE, this body as served me well over the years. As did JEAN-GUY RUBBER BOOT. He chose to live too.
Hours after the last feeding, [the one at the little sewing shop ], we all gathered at the edge of the town. All of us. Just like that, a drop of a hat, no matter what we were doing or where we were, it was spontaneous, THIS HURT. Then it began. We all morphed into each other leaving two. HOT WHITE
I remember you so does Jean-guy rubber boot. We remember each other and this is good for the two of us. This means we are good together and can shoot forth off-spring to fill this universe sky of your WORLD. I CRY UNTO YOU THIS WILL HURT . . .JEAN-GUY LAUGHS. But he is my friend, we are each other, his thoughts are mine as mine are his, therefore i can see and understand the humor in his hurting you.
I CHOOSE TO LIVE AND GO HOME NOW But really there is or ever was a choise . . .It always has been LIVE OR DIE and now last night when the last supper for this new batch of BUGOIDS took place i had to choose to kill or be killed, i choose to accept the FINAL MORPH rather than force total annileation upon my beings, how else would i be able to stop it. Why should i stop it.
It all comes down to i die or you die, why should i die, who are you that i should die, would you die for me. This was and is my final thought before i live or die. I will take great memories either way, only know the choise was never mine, that in the beginning i choise to live in and amongst you as the body i fell into was strong, healthy, it lived for life, not because it had life but for it . . .This was felt throughout the body’s core while electric currents of energy surged through it. Shocking to this vessel i know, but fun for me.
I feel time now calling me, my time is soon to stop and i will be no more once again, but what i once was. I can feel the pain starting to swell in these molecules and the atoms are starting to get warm, hot. This family that i have come to love . . .I can’t even say good-bye. I have sorrow with this pain.
There is no time for Change the numbers are greater than me i can only tell you now there is no stopping us. Continue reading
There he is looking back at me in the mirror, sure hope the guy is doing well and all is well. But there i see him once again with that who are you look on the face looking back at me. Who is that face i say . . .Why that is Jeff. Then that little smirk appears Yeah that one. Why do i look like him?
I don’t mind this look though whatever this is, each day or so i see my self looking like Mr. Bridges . . .When my hair was just that much shorter, i could have sworn i looked just like ELLEN . . .The kids didn’t think so . . .But what do they know? [ I'd say they were jealous ], myself . . . They throw the old look a like TOM SELLECK
Yes i do i look like TOM
Jeff Bridges Gives Address On Child Hunger (Photo credit: Talk Radio News Service)
thing at me, but it just don’t wash. They do not look anything like good old Tom.
Me on the other hand have a character muse, hiding out somewhere in my being and i do tend to act out things on a daily basis . . . [ But that is not my fault ]. That is the cause of my up bringing and that was, is, another time. {Imagine living an everyday life, from the age of five to the age of fifteen, practicing to be the best spy in the whole wide world} . . . I did my best to win out double-o-seven. Seventy-seven SUN SET STRIP. TELEVISION WAS MY TEACHER, back then, everything else was just trying to stay alive.
WHEN THEY TOLD ME I WAS RUN OVER BY HORSE AND BUGGY . . .I freak’en died laughing. I was 47 seven when they told me. how funny is that. Funny to me as i all ready knew i was hit by car three times. The second time was me running out to save a mouth full of pop, the very day i arrived home from the hospital, from the first time . . .Yes i remember . . .I remember all to well. The third time to me is still unknown to my memories, but my MOTHER remembers all to well . . .What i remember is the very instant my Mother told me of this third run down by a car. [ She was in some sort of spin out state ], warning me of this person who just happened in the room . . .Just all of a sudden she gave this panic cry for me to come to her. And i did and she told me, this man ran you down three times, before i could stop him and pick you up. What? He was the man who hit me coming from the store then on the bridge? NO . . .Oh then what . . .
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No he ran you down three times, every time you got up he ran you down and before i could get to him and get you, he ran you down three times, You stay the hell away from him. I said Wow why would he do that, and how come i don’t know this or remember. Who is he and why is he here. He is related to the family. what did i do to him to make him run me down . . .Was i bad? No He just wanted to see if he could kill you. This is all very nice to know but that too was a different time. RIGHT NOW IS Bridges and i have to go out in the public and play bingo with my mother. But then i get to listen to her stories of old, lots of them are amazing, some are fun and lots are the stories where you may say. I had to walk two miles in the snow every day just to make 10 cents, and i didn’t have any boots. Yeah that’s nice mom. I had a lot of had to, too. But i Love being with mom . . .She takes me as i am and lets me be. And if it is in the mood of looking like Jeff Bridges then that is how she will take me. Lets all pray i don’t grow whiskers now just like his.
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