New Series: Rainbow Warriors

Greetings Weblog readers!

I have a new fictional universe series: the Rainbow Warriors©.  The universe will include volumes of comic books, artwork, animation and maybe someday a video game!

My series is about the life of minimum wage high school graduate Mellow Fellow.  This is nothing of a cliche young adult story.  It is to say an autobiography, an almanac, a health log, a planner, a dream journal, a children's guidebook, a diary, a spell book, an erotic novella, a miscellanea, a plain old fashioned fantasy filled fiction!

It is not a travel guide, a sacred text, a brochure, a cookbook, a magazine, a lesson plan, an encyclopedia or a handbook.

The Forsaken Garden (Page Three)

You quickly accept the pants from your older brother to replace the wet pair one leg at a time in the kitchen. Your father walks out of the hallway into the kitchen towards you. Your father says, “Well young lady, it’s time for you to sleep. We have an important day to fulfill tomorrow.” You snuggle into your father’s arms as he carries you away into your bedroom.

In your bedroom your father places you under your sheets and tucks you in comfortably. He stops to give you a gentle kiss on your forehead which makes you smile with comfort. You cover your head with the sheets to make it seem as though you had fallen quickly to sleep. After your father had taken the bait he turns around towards the door and begins to exit as you watch him in secrecy. You wait silently till it is while past his departure.

Your father left the door open to ensure easy surveillance for the household guardians. You are upset because all the family after having cleaned up your mess enjoyed portions of berry cobbler that would have been inherently yours. You quietly creep from underneath the sheets to the open doorway. You know from experience that doors in the household screech when being tampered with. At your highest effort you slowly but hastily close the door of your room. Despite your precautions, you are unable to prevent the door from shattering the silence of night with its sharp screech. Upon the recognition your senses are attuned as you wait for your parents to discover what it is that you are doing with door. To your surprise no one comes and you are clear to completely close the door.

You calmly return to your bed without covering yourself under the sheets yet. You lay upon your back staring upwards to the dark overcastted ceiling. As you lay you ponder. Your tensions that connote to the stresses of waking day life relax and open the potential to deeper more mysterious fancies. You ponder. You ponder. You ponder. Before your actual sight you visualize a pattern emerging of shapes and designs of the unique, bizarre, and peculiar nature.

Looming from the background there is a deep blue, a sky at night.
Scattered stars resist the darkness. Chimerical lights, surreal and absurd, become and ebb, become and ebb, become and ebb. It is within your phantasmagoric-whelmed fantasies. You visualize erratic tunnels of streaming light twisting into an uncertain destiny. Carrying you as a dandelion seed in the blithe gale. The stars assuming astral impossibilities, distorting to invisible forms, becoming horrid sores for your mind’s eye. Here you are vulnerable, susceptible to whimsical biddings.

The Forsaken Garden (Page Two)

(continued)



You smell the almost finished berry cobbler in the air.-
-"Mmm so good," you think aloud. "Hey shouldn't your bath water be full? You better not let the tub over flow, we do have limited water!" yelled your mom to you when she became aware of you from your thoughts you spoke aloud.

You scram to the bathroom and see the tub over-filled and pourring out lots of water. The water is making its way out of the bathroom and to the hallway that leads to the kitchen. You run to get a towel from the closet downstairs. Down stairs smells like saltyfish to you because of all the fish in the barrels being stored for later. Foolishly you forgot to turn off the water and run to the spill creeping its way down the hall. Soon the towel is filled to its capacity and won't soak up anymore liquid. Once again you forget to turn off the water and run down to the salty fish smelling basement for towels. You grab four towels form the shelf; a blue one, a green one, a beige one, and a white one. You drop all the towels on the spill but the water has accumulated so much that it carries the towels with it. You finally give up and begin to cry loudly; you throw a fitfull tantrum.

Your mother walks into the hall after finishing dinner and sees you crying alongside the wall of the hallway. "Oh my go-", your mother says while she quickly rolls up her pants and comes to pick you up out of the flooding waters. While you still sob from big watery swellen eyes, you plead "I tried to clean it up, I did, trust me mama."



Your mother looks at you forgivingly and alittle self-ashamed. "I know it's not your fault, I shouldn't have left you to turn on the bath by yourself, you are after all only a toddler," your mother said while put you down in kitchen. You feel cold, the end of your pants legs had gotten wet from the flooding waters and started to cling to your skin; you never did like the feeling of the wet end of your pants leg clinging to your skin.



Your older brother brings you a pair of dry pants to change from the older wet ones. Both your father and brother walk into the hallway, your father carrying the mop and your brother carrying two towels; a blue and a white towel.





To be continued...

The Forsaken Garden (Page One)

This story is my Second attempt at creating a narrative story from second person perspective.

You were wandering from your countryside cottage in the late afternoon.-

-Searching you were for some meaning to life. It was that the Southern Winds brought a thunderous storm that blew away your familes' crops. Since you were the youngest of all, all the relatives sacrificed most of their food to make sure you wouldn't go hungry. But time passed and food began to diiminish by decay and consumtion.

"Why live life? Why is the unsentient being so unkind?" You had spoken aloud to the uncaring sky. To you the sky has always been a place of awe and power.-

-The sky held many mysteries and obvious truths; you loved mysteries but as of lately you are fed up with them. So now you seek; you seek the meaning the meaningless seek; the purpose of life. You are foolish though because your search is vague and endless. It is that you will not realize that you should seek the purpose to keep on living; this you shall not know till you meet Aye of the Garden.

In the distance you can hear your mother calling you home, "Are you out there sweetie? Dinner is almost ready and you need sleep to wake up early for tomorrow!" You think, why would I want to go home and sleep to wake up to go to a funeral tomorrow. Still you drag your feet homewards. The sun is setting over the mountainous shurby landscape. -

-At last you arrive at the door with your mother waiting with an anxious face, "What took you so long? Well at least your home, now go take your bath," spoke your mother.

You turn on the hot water and leave while the tub fills. In the living room you see your father and older brother watching the television. What a connection, you think. You are happy to finally see someone in the family enjoying life again after the thunderous storms swallowed up two relatives and others died from starvation. Of course your happiness soon fleeds; you could never really stay happy long from the simple things in life. You always thought maybe I'll be happier if I leave this quite peaceful countryside for the big bustling cities of the world. Maybe there I'll fulfill my dreams.-

-You don't realize though that reality is on your side and all you need to do is be certain and determined of what you want in life. Yet you haven't yet manifested your dreams into a sequence of events or ideas.

Slowly you leave the living room while you step into the kitchen to watch your mother cook. Your mother is making desert, berry cobbler, your favorite. Looks like orange juice again for dinner you think as you have had orange juice since the thunderous storms destroyed your families' crops and murked the well's water.

To be continued...

Insanity (Part One)

September 22, 2010

Become aware my creation. Your creator has summoned you. Throughout all my omnipresence I only here abide with your limitable focus. As your creator of being I only ask of you a few simple things. In return this shall give to the giver the gift of giving. Your being was not by intention made to serve only me. You have many uses. But I dare you to find meaning outside my presence and find purpose outside my influence. Thus by default, you are whelmed by my inspiration! Do not cede to your creator; do not submit! I ask you rather to be with me. To do within and without while mirroring me. You have indeed fulfilled me! Without you, my first creation, I would have not been the creator. The me that you see and have come to understand is a concept whether precise or fuzzy. To be a creator is to resemble a thought you hold dear; the idea of who creates is a creator. In that sense you have made me, paradoxically I have made you. Hence we are both creators of different realms; do as I do then do more.

I only ask of you to create in fulfillment! Which my comprehensive minds means to behave in a manner that shall create and persist eternally in the act of creation.

There was Rhythm. The form that Rhythm manifested as was reality. More significantly Rhythm was the reality of reality, the emphasis with the verse, The Omniverse. Rhythm was only sensed by her dance. You have felt Rhythm; you have known her. You were made of Rhythm. Thence, you are all she is, all she tries to communicate, and all her potential.

You were made from reality. Not just its surface but the concept of reality in totality. If you comprehend reality you would know it is consequence of Rhythm that you are here. You are within the center of your focus. You are indeed vast and encompassing though here the part of you that looks upon the whole is where all the Rhythm spirals.

You wonder as you wander. This wondering is the potent blend between comprehension and sentimentality. You feel as you know. You wonder about Rhythm. You feel fear and awe. The awe arises from whelming comprehension while the fear emerges from the assumption of being unable to fully comprehend Rhythm.

It is only a consequence that you the mere infinitesimal point within the presence of your creator, feel as if there is never time to be able to comprehend all that Rhythm is. It is only duly that you would realize this fear is the wonder of comprehending that your self-burden, consciousness, maybe limiting. Though it is not that it is limiting that frightens you – but rather that you have the potential to distort reality to create an environment in which has obstructed your ability to navigate perfectly. This potential has frightened you. Apprehension has gripped you.

Tis the only natural thing for you to feel. It is also within the cognition that Rhythm comes to you in all ways always. The only potential to not understand her is made of willful ignorance. Remarkably there was never time to comprehend your creator nor is there ever time to not comprehend her. For instead you spent your days with Rhythm. You have left no days to know her.

The Unseen Field

The Unseen Field

by Jalia Hubbard

Far, far away in meadows of flowers and weeds
An unseen field that no one ever seeds

lays there this meadow left ever unseen
Where all life is left pristine and clean

It lies out of ken, touch, smell, and taste
Far, far away from where humans lay waste
Not sleeping at night or awaken at dawn
Never mowed or trimmed is the unseen lawn

Foliage savagely entwine and interdependent
Some firm and strong, some weak and suspendent
Who cares for the unneeded and the unseen
When all humankind snub this native scene

What cure does it hold, or knowledge worth knowing
In the unseen field where the lush is perpetually growing
and is it for the best that nature has hid this place
So that no toxins or impurities touch this space

Maybe she left it for future children to be able to undergo
and so maybe someday, their intrinsicality shall show
Or that at end, it when only the goddess has seen and shield

It may have purpose by that mean; As forever the unseen field

One story for the Omniverse of All things

In English Class each student was assigned to write a creation myth after having read a chapter of creation myths from Native Americans and another myth from Africa.  On the project I got a 25/30 which is a good enough grade but most importantly I simply care about the story itself.

September 15, 2011

The Creation of Destruction

By Jalia Hubbard

            There was in the beginning, creation.  What marked the beginning was the creation itself.  From this creation all things that were to be came to pass.  The intentions of their juvenile creator became an entelechy.  She willed the matrix of the universe and willed it within.  With her very divine eyes she discerns the light from the dark and made the starry sky.  Soon the first generation of stars died and the next arose from their remains.  From the debris scattered in the cosmic catastrophe, there were the rudiments for solar systems to form.  One of such systems would be renowned as the harbor for Earth.

            On the Earth there was nothing till she wills it.  The juvenile creator existed further beyond the limits of the universe, further still than the matrix.  From there she fell upon the notion with enlightening serendipity that she needn’t make all things piece by piece, portion by portion.  She fixed the mechanics of the universe, intrinsic to its fundamental fractions.  The laws of science became the governing limits of a leniently organic and spontaneous universe.

            The mechanics of the universe worked in synch from the divine perspective.  In reality from below the mechanics were ever in conflict to terminate the other’s potential and exhaust its own force.  The paragon of violence actualized for all other systems to parallel to.  The creation of destruction had come amuck.  The mechanics were soon unreachable to the juvenile creator.

            Not only had the juvenile creator had made her doom but the doom of her progeny.  She found it to be that she could no longer persistent in the act of creation.  She dissolved into her matrix.

            The cold harsh, rash and fiery reality the mechanics created, prevailed the organic, spontaneous nature of the universe.  The logic of what would come to be was dependent on the factors known in the equation; meaning that the universe took on a deterministic nature rooted in the governing foundation of scientific reasoning.  This is why no matter how much now no will alone can change the predestined mechanics of the universe, where there is matter there is gravity and wherever there is a closed system, there will soon be entropy.  As absurd as we may reason, we will always defy this cold harsh, rash and fiery reasoning for it is the tendency of all things.

Thank Nothingness

Jalia Hubbard

Written March 22, 2011

Written During: Detention

Thank Nothingness

There are those who find it at the utmost unlikelihood, to the greatest tragedy, with tremendous difficulty, to fathom or fancy the sweet soothing thoughts that there may be some wholeness or Great entity of great creativity out there outside, beyond, themselves. Thank Nothingness that ain’t me!

Well we must see what these people are obviously seeing when they espy a trait of nihilistic perversion. Apathy, lethargy, and abandonment obviously. But what about these special little three makes these people see make-believe masks of nihilism.

Well for one, nihilism is the position that there is no meaning to existence, not a belief or denial or anything. Well then many people draw their drive to live from the fact there is some meaning to it all, so by consequence they cannot seem to comprehend a person who is positioned in a nihilistic perversion. Well if they have no drive to live then they obviously don’t and they just sit there at home senselessly wasting their once and only. Well they must be lazy. They just don’t care. Apathy, Lethargy! Wait what about abandonment? Obviously the world either left them behind or they left the world.

Now we have seen it, we have seen what they have been seeing. Well about Nihilism, it’s none of those. In a simplified position, nihilism is a simple answer to a complicated question; what is the meaning of existence? – there is none!

Fiasco for a Fortnight

September 13, 2010

For fourteen suns arose whence it came
At far east it has risen for all the same
To dauntlessly fight the wanton night
So that the moon may disgorge to the sun's light

Upon the first ray thence the able awake
To fill the day duly for righteous sake
Country lands brimmed to forest of serried trees
That able which wakes to envisage and sees

The profuse rain has rendered a flood
That takes the lives and limbs while leaving the blood
Those able who had ere gone away
Are those able to live to the next day

The waters had erst whelmed the lands below
Gathered the desperate and homeless ergo
Hence they went to the dry hill top to espy
Far beyond the whelming waters to the sky

Their whimsical ages had come to an end
The time whence animal, man, and plant befriend
An age of seeming illimitable moiling
Whence the good are victim to evil's foiling

What irony that the waters quaff their esteem
That wakes them up from a surreal dream
That brings them to the countenance of reality
A reality that denotes a bizarre brutality

The Tree

The old proverb words...

"As the twig is bent, so grows the tree"

 

The Tree

by Jalia Hubbard

It's been spoken

By sound this idea has been awoken

As the twig is bent

so grows the tree

We are flowers

By life-sustaining showers

We tear and rip

We are the children

The saplings that grow

That as we age the more we know

We seek light

We seek strength

In Nature, the sun is bright

In its passion we grow towards might

We are also the trees

Shelter, resource, and life

In Nature, when the sun doesn't shine

The trees bend and entwine

But instead for sake of life

Rather the intent to delight the eyes

Will drives us up from the ground

To the starry place where light is found

Our will knows best

Our instinct knows where

This is not how it is this day

Instead human-kin has its way

Taking some strange shape

Degraded into an demeaning scrape

Not known to Nature

Though forever it is

Along side the truth that occur

The starry place is where we were.

 

 

The Virtual Beauty

September 17, 2010

Patiently waiting to absorb the tingling mirth with my eyes
For this beauty so succumbing is left undisturbed and raw.
It enjoys the fever of its celebration
Embraces it with full concordance
Usurping the void that fill its absolute reign
No other could shape within
This virtually perfect beauty is impeccable
and its exhibited vulnerability supports its potential
O how it reigns upon the observer delicately
and how it eloquently dances in the eyes
Revealing its quaint soft roundness and meekly existence
with no other than the supplication to persist
To persist in giving the world its profound innate gift
what evil shall result from this request
what harm shall envisage with this beauty unleashed
Have we all not inherited the beauty in which we see
That which fills our eyes with lust for more
The only remedy for the new found absence is beauty more
There is no going back from sight of it
In no way can be unseen what has been seen
It engraves the nostalgia whence repentance is built
Daring our judgment foolish for our self restraint
Let us see our heritage of the cosmos
Let us see the virtual beauty in which we beseech.

Moving All Thing's clock

If you ever read a story than you have nothing to leave unexpected here. My story is like All Story's. My view like all views, and that will never change. I can't tell you the infinite times you and everything have experienced my story. All Story's are no different, they connect from point A to point B. They start and they end. Some all at once. My story however is a twist through time. As I undo, All of what my ancestors did, to move forward the 'Clock of All Things'. So I can finally put an end to this place for a final time...
I am a dweller. A fraction of the Light Bender and Sound Bender. I have my own characteristics and destiny. But before I get into my destiny I must inform you of the 'Story of All Things'. Which I'm sure you have heard before.
At the creation of All Things, Nothing, Everything, Anything, and Rhythm were made. Subsequently something, our primeval great mother was spawned. She gave light and quality to the dwellers. She lived forever but for some reason she is no where to be found. She was real, I hope she still is. Either how she made the Sound Bender her mate and all other fractions. She is the creator of the gray matter, or in other words God's intelligence. We are seen as the gray aliens. Since we belong to no omniverse. We only belong in Nothing.
Back to the 'Story of All Things' , the dwellers were the last creations. When the gray matter was created we were able to understand ourselves and our place in All Things. So that each of us are the center of All Things. We were the last to inherit rhythm. The combination of our gray matter and rhythm lead us to see the repeated patterns in the omniverses. Our ancestors created the 'Clock of All Things' to measure the pulse of the omniverses and the microcosms that repeated the cycle on a smaller scale.

The order of All Thing's clock was not based on time. Because Everything created time, Nothing didn't follow time, neither did Something. The clock only ticked when one created an alternative multiverse. The clock went in the order of the children of All Things. Nothing was first, therefore the first stage was called Nothing New. Everything New succeeded it, and continued that pattern till one reaches the end of Something New. Which after that dwellers were made and is believed when this moment comes we will rule.
Each stage had a meaningful metaphor to it which we saw it repeat at all sizes and levels of existence. Including in our specie. Our ancestors prepared for the next stage which we are in now. Nothing New is when all information and emotions were known and All Things were new. It was knowing without remembering, the default quality. Everything New is the current stage. It is about forgetting and learning. We were devastated, my people. for some unknown reason our ancestors set us up for a great fall. Our ability to create was obliterated. All that we could do was destruct all the creations our ancestors made. Which we found out moved the 'Clock of All Things' forward.
Sadly all we made must be destroyed, its the only way to leave this stage of All Thing's Clock. As we relearn all our abilities. Many of us questioned if the previous generation did this on purpose rather than by chance. It is strange that one can come from knowing Everything to knowing Nothing. Your world is apart of this and it must be thrown into Chaos to move forward and save all the dwellers.
Next would be Anything New, this stage is not as well known as the others, since Anything existed within All Things. But some records say we may skip this stage all together and pass on to Something New.
Something New is the stage ruled by the primeval Mother, the Light Bender. Like Anything New its not that well known. But we guess it is the creation of a new way of looking at the existence. Something New is the most creative, harmonizing age of all. (To be continued...)