Shorts by John Pallister (spicy books to read txt) 📕

sandwiches.
This was his choice; a way in which he could carry out his own justice, away from the preying eyes and emotional attachment of the families involved. Not only had someone's life been cut short by one act of intolerance, but his soul had been torn apart and that was more tortuous then losing life itself. He remembered the smooth journey through life, picked up the rusty jammed knife and pushed it into his chest and prepared for the chaotic turmoil of the hell to come.


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A story of imagery

So she turned away from her chocolate flavoured buttercups hastily swallowing them like an erratic fish. She stood up staring at the Siamese mushroom which was drooping in the harsh and hectic wind. Then she gave some money to the butler who gave her a sarcastic smile and a soft thank you.
It was too dark for me and I bumped into her. She screamed and forced a mint flavoured daisy into my mouth which caused embarrassment. She arrived at the dinner party carrying a rubber chicken on her back. All the shroomies were there writing soft poetry about her wonderful hair and her hypnotic stare. I was late too, but as usual I was wearing the golden jelly belly crown which signalled power. Power was something she always wanted, so she picked up the chocolate flavoured dominoes and each go forced one into her mouth gambling on the next one. A bottle of Perno was opened and each shroomie gave their respect to the magical Siamese mushroom before breaking into song. She sang gracefully the words of a beautiful princess before sipping Perno and going to sleep in my arms.

THE END


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Best Clothes

Guided through misinterpretation left with little or no consolation while fuel burns; heads turn to a speaking distraction showing moving images for mere reaction. Worrying for a few seconds before fingers switch; channel changes; off with that shit. Damn them they brought it on themselves, won’t happen to anyone else. Yet these are our brothers and sisters, fellow evolution, innocent like our children, malutrutrictioned and forced into a battle zone. Surviving alone while elders following a source of higher power segregated to intolerance. Sinner against sinner there is no winner. Faith becomes political, a struggling way in which human culling can be carried out and deemed for the sake of the Lord. Money, possessions, rights, territorial hunger as one by one blood stains glamorous faces and clothes as those ignore are no longer pure. Into a world of self-absorption like a materialistic cancer. While death and destruction happens to everyone else. Your wrong very soon you’ll be staring down the end of a barrel wishing you were wearing your best clothes

THE END


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A Place

The luscious greenery, soft and inviting as my body gets wrapped in the short disciplined blades. Trees hold memories of emotions and empty their leaves elegantly. Falling slowly like unique flakes bouncing off the sound waves of hypnotising buzzes and random calls of eager birds. Water glows slowly like a trickle, clean and refreshed, occasionally splashing onto the patches of light green. Footsteps tread into the erect blades pushing each one down one by one only to be sprung back up as quick and sharp as beauty would have it. Her eyes are mirroring the scenery as she moves over to the relaxed position of me now becoming part of the scene.
Red apples swing above inviting a picking and a tempt for a romantic kiss or gesture. Her hair more random than the twigs but like a soft gentle velvety texture that gives her face a sparkle. They say the trees observe and hold emotions. That perfect day they absorbed the emotions and mirroredit in the surroundings for eternity.
THE END


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Sige
(A Gnostic Goddess of Silence)
She appeared out of nowhere and her lips moved in perfect harmony to form words that bounded over the horizon of a silent wave. The ears didn’t register, the energy passed without a noise or sound. The sound of silence is a blessing and a blessing can never be spoke of or understood. The eyes focused begging for an alternate medium of exchange, but the finger covered the lips as I was losing focus. All I could think of was to exchange through a kiss to show her how I felt. If words could not be used then my body, spirit would have to intertwine to speak the words through perfect silence. I got drawn to the mysterious face that was the defining point of beauty as love was held in the head and not the body. She had a powerful aura and glow around her as I reached out to receive my lesson. When I awoke I knew the meaning to all existence but was bound to silence by Sige through any form of medium. Alone with the knowledge as a non – interfering Demi God.

THE END


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Killing Cupid

Feelings of magical substance are floating on an aquatic cloud that is fired up from the centre of a heart loved so proud. A beautiful sense of emotional power is spread like pollen from a flower. Falling gracefully from the mellow sky it covers the mountains with a glazy silk. Pondering; flourishing even more landing on the flamboyant shore. The water swallows up the elegant dream as it’s carried down a calm stream to a fountain so cold and chilled. There suddenly Cupid is dramatically stilled with his own arrow. A shadow glooms over a destructive cloud that pours down his wailing; screaming to melodies that sweep the tranquil reflection.
Cupid was direction and harmony; music and invention; art and dedication; bringing soft romance over lands that cried out for a spark of natural elegance.
A mortal being, flesh and bones, beautiful but unguided, longed for the comfort of a loving devoted partner to move along the nature beside them. Cupid could not resist but his arrow would bring his own feelings to a dramatic end. Dazed and barely capable of moving as a distraught lover brought a dark aura over the peaceful land. Cupid smiled closed his eyes and love became a myth.

THE END


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Un-titled
As my mind wanders through the intrigue of human existence it picks up and processes its radical messages deeper from its inner source. Alienating the interludes of practical waves of lives that barrage its circuits of capability. Wanting to dissociate from the harsh reality of evolution. Ideas and inspiration ebb out freely but sporadic that cannot be interpreted by any receiver not on the same level. Love, hate and redemption; temptation and reflection. As my body is tired from the over power of the mind’s inner consciousness the soul sleeps deep undiscovered as the heart beats on.

THE END

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Imprint

Text: Random pair of shorts found for the cover off yahoo images.
Publication Date: 12-24-2011

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