Saturday, June 27, 2015

Believe Nothing

This says it all for me. Beliefs can be a good thing but not if they keep you in a state of fear and ultimately keep you from enjoying life. :-)

Sunday, June 21, 2015

Dried Zero

Dried emotional zero
Dates graded
Openly caustic
Driven abstract
Oven orangutan
1997 devoted
Mucus procurements
Salad dressing
Shelled pudding
Weary pot potent
Giraffe installments
Other worldly
People phantoms
Mighty best
Tank no longer have
Loud motorized
Arrangements antimatter
Etching particular
Movie bitter butter
Hot water caramel
Glass foot piercings
Calcify esteem
Jello molds ascend
Goats shake we
Boldness beans
Stave the same time
Heroic herons
Tough fruitful events
Colored chalks change
Sky buttocks
Shooting shouts
Thy deity absolves
Once every

I Believe In Mankind

Everything is about money. Everything.
This is why we are already in hell. We're not being tortured by some horned being with a pitchfork.
We are being tortured by the free market. Sure, there are some minute bright spots here and there but it's NOT ENOUGH!!
Major changes need to be made as soon as possible.
What is wrong with switching to a resource based economy? What is wrong with providing every single person with the bare essentials?
Food, water, shelter, clothing and healthcare are all anyone needs to survive. Once these basics are taken care of then people will be able to focus on other important endeavors. Such as education, infrastructure and alternative energies.
Being heartless and uncaring doesn't help anyone. In fact, it only serves to infect all of mankind with hatred and frustration. This is how conflict arises.

Each and every one of us must change our mode of thinking! Even if we believe humanity is a lost cause, we must still have hope.
Now is not the time for more conflict! Now is the time for every individual, every group, every community to band together and start helping one another in anyway possible!
I do believe in the goodness of people. Yes, I know there's a dark side to everything but I also know that we're all sick and tired of the dark side.
We are all ready, now more than ever, to transmute the darkness with our kindness, compassion and love.

To quote Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. : "Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only Love can do that."

Stop giving in to hatred and start driving it away with your love and light.



Saturday, June 20, 2015



Stoic Orange Doubt

Clouds walked stoic. Why? I dunno why! Why doesn't Bill Cosby go into banking or open up a franchise? He's got the moolah for it!

Don't let walls cripple your determination. Skunk rats do their best fornicating over spring break. Knew it.

Man, gladness berry absolves crouton justifications. Keep reading really wrong quotes. Nothing feels better than misquoted bystanders. Delicious.

Detriment analyze riff liquidity. Save shun brick mam. Sandwiches are the truest form of allegiance.

Your flag suffocates men who don't want to kill all innocence. Our orange groves are now rotting away. There is little to do but much to doubt.


Captain Puerto Rico

Tuesday, June 16, 2015


This resemblance
This resemblance



Imbalance House

The front
Door of
The Wide White House



Thursday, June 11, 2015

The Extra Man Movie Review by Ryan A. Loera

Click the link to read my review of The Extra Man.

A Werewolf In My Pocket -Short Story by Ryan A. Loera

I was sitting at the breakfast table enjoying a big bowl of cornflakes. I began to feel something wiggle around in my right shirt pocket. Then I felt a sharp pinch.
“OW! What is that?!” I asked.
“Oh, sorry. I just wanted to get your attention.”
I jumped up out of my chair and scanned the entire dining room. Where did that voice come from? Was it me?
“Uh, who’s there?”
“It’s me! I’m in your shirt pocket!”
I carefully took a peek inside my pocket and saw what looked like a miniature werewolf. He was no bigger than a quarter!
“How’d you get in there?” I demanded
“I’ve always been in here. You’ve just never noticed me until now.” It blinked its yellow eyes at me.
“Uh, okay. What do you want?”
“Oh, I was just wondering if I could have some of your cereal.”
“I guess. You want milk too?”
“No. All I need is one small piece.”
“Okay.” I picked up one cornflake and stuffed it into my pocket.
“Mmmm. Yum! Thanks! I appreciate it.”
The werewolf inhaled the cornflake. He made some weird noises while he ate.
“So, are there others like you?” I asked.
“You mean other miniature werewolves?”
It was now licking itself.
“Yes. Are there any other miniature werewolves?”
“Oh, my yes! We are in just about every available pocket.”
“And why am I seeing you now?”
“I don’t know. Only you know the answer to that question.” It proceeded to lick its tail.
“Uh, okay. So, what exactly do miniature werewolves do?”
“We can do lots of things but mostly we help keep away the lint goblins.”
“Lint Goblins?! There are actual Lint Goblins?!”
I decided to finish up my cornflakes.
“Yes. Of course. If the lint goblins had it their way they would just consume every piece of clothing in the world!”
“Really?!” I don’t know why I found it hard to believe in lint goblins. After all, I was talking to a pocket-sized werewolf.
“Okay. So, suppose I were to meet one of these lint goblins. Would it harm me?”
“No. Of course not! Lint goblins are deathly afraid of miniature werewolves and even MORE afraid of humans!”
“Oh, I didn’t know that.” I glanced at my wristwatch. I wondered how long I would have to talk to the werewolf.
“Well, I’d really like to continue chatting with you but I kind of have to be somewhere important.”
I hoped it didn’t take offense.
“Oh, okay. I understand. I will always be right here in your pocket if you ever feel the need to talk.” It began to curl up for a nap.
As I made my way towards the door I quickly realized I was forgetting my jacket. I pulled it off the coat rack and put it on. I zipped it up to my neck and felt a weird scratch.
I noticed a tiny green dot move about the zipper.
“Oh, sorry! I’m a jacket pixie. Can I have some cereal too?”

All words written by Ryan A. Loera
Copyright 2015


The Most


I once knew a guy who did not know me. He was a cool guy. His name was Santos. He was big and tall and round. So very rotund, fat or uh big boned. Ha, ha. Big boned. Santos had some sort of memory problem. He couldn’t retain any information other than his own name. But he sometimes struggled with that as well. Me and Santos were in the same 7th grade P.E. class. I absolutely hated that class and so did Santos. The coach was so annoying! But I guess most coaches are. Coach Nunez was his name. He was part Hispanic and part priest. Well, that’s what the other students used to say about him. Coach Nunez was known for quoting a lot of different religious figures. Somehow, he always managed to have ten new quotes every day. Most of the students laughed off his quoting but not me. Every once in a while I would write down one quote that seemed to grab my attention. “An eye for an eye leaves the whole world blind.” Coach Nunez said one day after handing out the big red rubber balls for a game of dodge ball. He was quoting Gandhi. I wrote that one down and memorized it. “Santos, look out!” I shouted. Santos turned his head to the left just in time to avoid being hit by a ball. It was only an inch away from hitting his nose! “I’m okay now!” Santos exclaimed. He picked up a ball then flung it hard at the shortest kid in school. His name was Kenneth and he resembled a frail little mouse. “Ow! Coach Nunez, Santos hit me way too hard!” Kenneth complained while rubbing his right shoulder. “Santos! Don’t throw so hard! You hurt Kenneth!” Coach Nunez scolded Santos. “Sorry. Sorry. Sorry, Kenny.” Santos apologized then hung his head low. “That’s all right, Santos. I appreciate the apology.” Kenneth smiled then sat down on a bench with the other injured kids. “Ha, ha! Kenny’s gonna’ cry!” One of the other students, Ignacio, taunted Kenneth. Ignacio was a born taunter. He wasn’t a bully. He was a taunter. What’s the difference? A bully will usually taunt and physically harm his victim. A taunter will wait for just the right moment to verbally assault his victim. A taunter abhors physical violence but has no problem with using words as weapons. Ignacio even had the look of a taunter. He was of average height but with a very Mediterranean complexion. I think he was part Greek and part Brazilian. His hair was a dark color, not quite black but not quite brown. He always had it slicked back with the aid of some special kind of hair grease that his uncle shipped to him from Brazil. Ignacio was also the only 7th grader with a mustache. It was a thin wispy mustache but still a real mustache. “Kenny’s a cry baby! Cry baby!” Ignacio laughed and pointed at Kenneth. “Stop it, Iggy! Leave Kenny alone!” Janet defended Kenneth. Janet was quite possibly the prettiest, nicest, and coolest girl in the entire school. I had a bit of a crush on her. Well, just about every 7th grade boy did. Even a few 8th grade boys. Janet had curly red hair, deep blue eyes, glowing fair skin and an awesome smile. She also had this way of looking at someone, anyone, and instantly connecting with that person’s true self. “You’re such a bully, Iggy! Stop picking on Kenny!” Janet scrunched up her face and gave Ignacio the stink eye. “Hey now! I’m no bully! I’m just a taunter.” Ignacio caught a ball and held onto it for a minute before hurling it at some kid’s stomach. “Oh whatever! You’re a bully and you know you’re a bully!” Janet picked up a ball and threw it at Ignacio’s face. “Hey! You can’t do that! You’re not in the game anymore, Janet!” Ignacio was about to retaliate in kind when he was struck so hard in the chest that he immediately fell backwards onto the shiny gymnasium floor. I turned around and saw Santos standing with a big smile on his face. “Santos! Look what you’ve done!” Coach Nunez ran over to Ignacio and checked his vital signs. “A ball for a ball makes you fall!” Santos exclaimed. Every single student laughed. I wrote down that quote.

All words written by Ryan A. Loera Copyright 2015

She Picks -A Short Story by Ryan A. Loera

She picks her nose. She picks it often. Her favorite day to pick it is Sunday. The Lord’s Day. While most people change into their Sunday best to go to mass… she changes into her Sunday best to pick her nose. She starts off slow and gentle. Sometimes she lights a vanilla scented candle beforehand. She says it adds something extra to the moment. Do not be confused by my description. I assure you I am not using any kind of metaphor when I say she picks her nose. She thoroughly enjoys it. Sex has never been much of a concern to her. Nose picking gives her far more satisfaction. When she picks her nose she gets lost. Lost in time, lost in space, lost in the simple act of picking her nose. She says her soul merges with the entire Universe when she picks. She becomes one with everything. To her it is a divine blessing. She is not a whore or heretic! She is a nose-picker. And she is damn proud of it! All words written by Ryan A. Loera Copyright 2015

Wednesday, June 10, 2015

In the Beginning -A Short Story by Ryan A. Loera

In the beginning, there were no toilets. People were forced to defecate on sidewalks and near government buildings. Sure, nobody enjoyed taking big long brown dumps in front of each other but there was no alternative. Until a man named Harry Clump had an epiphany one humid afternoon. He turned to his wife Mary and said: "Hey! What if someone created a place where people could defecate in private!" "Whadda' ya' mean? You can't just devote one place entirely to the act of defecation! Besides, people are perfectly happy with defecating anywhere they want to." Mary had just finished taking a pretty big dump on a bush in the local park. "I'm not so sure about that, Mary. I mean... I believe people are yearning to know what it feels like to be able to defecate behind closed doors." Harry took out a notebook and a pencil and began sketching something. "Huh? You mean like pooping in one's own bedroom? Some people already do that, Harry." Mary watched Harry draw something circular. A minute later, Harry finished his sketch and held it up over his head. "Behold! The Defecation Booth!" He exclaimed. "The what?" Asked Mary. "The Defecation Booth! You see, people will enter this cubicle and sit down on a chair-like thing that has a hole in the middle. Then they can defecate all they want in complete privacy! It's genius I tell ya'! We're gonna' be rich, Mary!" Harry jumped up and down with excitement. "Oh I dunno', Harry. It sounds pretty dumb to me." Replied Mary. Two weeks later, Harry died from explosive diarrhea. Mary eventually sold his idea to a scientist/engineer for $100 and a coupon for one free taco at Pancho's Tacos. The scientist/engineer perfected the design ten years later and named it after himself. His name is Dr. John Stall Toilet. Today, he is the fourth richest man in the world. Right behind the guy that invented disposable diapers. So, there you have it. The origins, more or less, of the toilet. The rest, as you know, is... defecation.

All words written by Ryan A. Loera Copyright 2015

My Sandwich

He ate my sandwich! Bob ate my wonderful sandwich! My turkey, cheese, bacon, tomato, lettuce on rye sandwich! How could Bob do such a thing? Does he not know how many hours I spent making my sandwich? Well, maybe not hours but minutes. Several glorious minutes! I even drove all the way across town to get the good turkey from the good deli. Doesn’t Bob know this? How could you, Bob! How could you eat my sandwich! Why did you eat it? Do you get some kind of sick satisfaction from eating other peoples’ sandwiches? Huh!! Do you? I recall a time when you wanted to make a sandwich of your own but did not have any bread. You asked to borrow a few slices of bread and I was agreeable. In addition, I also gave you $5 so that you may purchase a loaf of your choosing. That was not too long ago. Did you purchase your own loaf? No! You spent that $5 on beer. And when you got back home you didn’t even offer me a beer! Oh how I loathe you, Bob! It is no wonder you are a solitary man. But I digress. Why the hell did you eat my sandwich? Was there something about it that called out to you? Hmmm? Did the sandwich itself speak to you? Did it speak to you in French or Spanish? If you are having conversations with talking sandwiches regularly then perhaps you should see a psychiatrist. But even that is no excuse for eating my lovely sandwich! Why! Why did you eat it? I’ve been nothing but kind to you these past few months. I have no qualms with our living arrangement. And I only slept with your wife once! Only once! So… Why did you eat my sandwich? WHY!! All words written by Ryan A. Loera Copyright 2015


Time takes me away from all the forbidden science of our lackluster generation. Generational gap undone by modern conveniences. Truth here and there and covered up thoroughly by blankets made of the best copper wiring this side of the boundary line. Hilarious I once knew how to write so charismatically without so much as a period or apostrophe, apostrophe. Mind you you mind nothing tangible or legislative and I felt this right away. Earthquakes scare us to the point of non-recognition. But hey I mean whatever puts the gas in your engine now, man. Float then flow. Water flows through this vortex of a society. It flows to us from the great unknown! I'd like to study the not so culinary arts. Community colleges gloss over much of the fundamentals but then go right back to focusing on nothing but the fundamentals. Ain't nothin' fun about that shit! One thing I do know I want to do is to start a massive community garden. Sensationalism devours the whole pernicious spring fountain. Plate the ground in silvery things amongst what you believe to be your holiest doctrine. Peoples are factioned off into minor fruitful events of other minor fruitful events. Interesting and fascinating jurisdictions make us believe ugly rhyme vestiges. Every Wednesday and such turmoil discusses us as if we never even cared about property or windowed worries, fricking banality. Commonality we peruse the last aisle at those gross grocery stores and blame the next shopper for spoiled produce. Life and love and love and life. Those bastards, the ones who own the stores, have no clue. No clue. So we all speak terribly. Thine world is a vampiress suckling on the teet of corporate idealism! Oh but but they flounder still longingly. Moment to moment. In particular... I cannot give two shits today. We begin as though we've never began before. I am ambitious and fuck you for saying I am not! You fuckin hater of life and all things limitless! Go on and remain confined in your steel cage by your so called "beliefs" and "ideals"! All is weary and atrocious. That popsicle my nephew ate looked like it was loaded with untruths and hypocrisy. But oh he swears it tastes good. Of course it tastes good! This is why most of us believe the crap that gets forced onto us by government and corporations! They spend millions and millions to ensure that their lies taste good! I for one am sick of it, sick of it. Now is as good a time as any for all of us to band together as a community and throw off the shackles of big business and big government! We are not meant to be corporate slaves! We are meant to be limitless! Beautifully Limitless Creators! All words written by Ryan A. Loera Copyright 2015