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Tv Trope: Calling the old man out

Tv Trope: Calling the old man out  By Jack Dinovitz


A video game about a giant town or big city where each house is a different country in the world and each “state” a different member of the family. For example Russia is a giant empty manor with very few people living inside of it. The premise of it is basically some people at the Russia manor are trying to manipulate the people at America’s and other places in the world. Someone in the America house is tired of the lies. That person from America teams up with someone from House England, House Germany, House Japan and try to take down Russia Manor. When the young American sees that his grandfather was in kahoots with Russia manor the whole time he “calls the old man out” and stands his ground and changes the world to be a better place helping the grand daughter of Russia manor to run things there better. The video game aspect of it is basically being a spy going from place to place trying to save “the city” (the world) from being taken…

The Dark Halls of Camarillo Manor

The Dark Halls of Camarillo Manor By Jack Dinovitz
The shadows moved as if water rushed into shock. Sweet nothings not danced nor laughed at the family resting, but stared. Over the bed with death in there eyes they stared. Shadows being shadows sapien to human. The one who falls, falls into the deepest part of our selves, but they were never human. 
The shadows of Camarillo manor. Ha, what a sound they tickled and pricked away at humanity without making a squeak or squak, they cried at the sight of our breath. “Oh for I have never felt such pleasures” begging at the window sil. 
They’ve never walked as humans but came from a place much darker than are own, one will never know, unless you call him. 

Right turn on the Left

Right turn on the Left By Jack Dinovitz
Night fell and in the field on the mountain they breathed.  Night shade danced in the wind and wolfsbane with it. The deadliest dance.  They whispered serendipital monogamy, they plead, but do the stars stare at the rising sun laughing at the irony of darkness.  The suckling of Flower rushed into the smell of absolute.  The thing that Wakes up and cry’s and sleeps until the the heart stops beating. 
Sweet death they whispered to the child, the right turn on the left. 

The kids of tomorrow the kids of yesterday and the kids of hereafter

The kids of tomorrow the kids of yesterday and the kids of hereafter By Jack Dinovitz
Respect the kids today we're not a worlds away were the same generation once were dead.  Because not all pretty things comes in a perfect blue box and not all people want to die for something that once made them bled.  Because the beauty and reality is that we are not all the same. Because that's the way it goes  my dear the lion eats the tamed. The kids of tomorrow are looking at those of yesterday and the ones of hereafter are not looking at who or what is gay. Because religion doesn't rule anymore, gods not in a box, Jesus died on the cross.. for us. Would he admire the way you talked. Many saints and foes have died blaming a single cause with people shaking there head up in down following the elephants jaws. But if Jesus was here where would he be a white American fading from reality? If he was to heal the ones in need.. why are we so rich to feed the none hungry. If Jesus was a refugee …

The ones who danced with darkness

The ones who danced with darkness  By Jack Dinovitz
I have danced with darkness, it’s not all melancholy and Daisy’s. Her dance is Cynical, exacerbating the idea of touched lips. The cheap smell of lines and raspy diaphragms curse the words of the matriarchy, but the sound of loneliness and silence were all too strong.  
I have met indifference, his sadist touch of rage and morality escaped out of a mind to numb for the scars of beauty and to drawn for the night of the patriarch. 
They denounced the innocent, playing god with book written by misogyny and whispered to the weeping, commit. It’s suicide plainly as the words grow and shrink in the child’s mind that never felt canonized. Purity never rots, damnation on the persecutors, damnation on the malevolent. 
I have seen the quiet, it’s cold and stagnant. 
I was saved by belladonna, the comfort of her night and dampness of soul cloaked and drenched me in Lazarus. Lily came first then came eve. I have touched the bosom of purity and will no…

The day all the honey bees died

The day all the honey bees died By Jack Dinovitz
The bees were dancing  They screamed as they died 
My sincerest to your breathe  The pollen is gone. You created me. 
The grass lay Dead. The trees crunch and break at the sound of thunder. You laughed. 
They weren’t aware. You gave them to me. Tomorrow laughed. 
The birds sing quietly and the sound of nothing plied in your head.
You killed god and created religion. But what created human?

The day all the honey bees died. 

Grimm Tales From a Child

Grimm Tales From a Child “Sylvia walked into the miniature golf course last night wearing nothing but cowboy boots, a red bikini and a rubber band in her hair.” “That’s horrible…” jerry retorted setting down his half empty glass of milk. “Yeah I know, an 82 year old woman shouldn’t be wandering around on her own into a Childrens birthday party wearing only those things, let alone at a miniature golf course.” “So thats why you did it?” “Did what?” “Kill her…” “Oh, no!” Grimm laughed, “I killed her because she smoked two packs a day and basically bathed in the grease at K.F.C.” “oh…” a long pause came next that was as simple as it was melancholy. “So why do you have to kill me?” Jerry the young boy looked into The Grimm Reapers eyes and smiled sweetly. “Well… you know…” Death thought long and hard  on this question. “Sometimes people get sick and sometimes they have to… go.” “But why do I have to go?” Grimm started to lose patience and began to move quickly closer towards the young boy. Jerry flin…