America v. Japan!

I realized something in the patterns of what I read. I read multiple manga with the same themes.
For example, I enjoy tales of shinigami (death gods), as I read Soul Eater, Death Note and Bleach. I also enjoy my mecha, as I follow Gundam and Code Geass obsessively. Tales of magic and mysticism are among my interests, as I read both Naruto and Fullmetal Alchemist. Among the American cb's I read are the greats such as Shazam! (DC's Captain Marvel) and Superman, along with less well known books. I apparently have a thing for dystopian and totalitarian settings as some of my favorite graphic novels are Watchmen, V for Vendetta and all of Frank Miller's works (including 300 and Sin City).

I guess that, for now, I follow both world's equally. I'm just waiting for a great collaboration between America and Japan. One that doesn't suck as much as Wolverine: Prodigal Son or the Star Wars and Star Trek mangas.

Confessions of a Trekkie

I am a self-proclaimed Trekkie. Some of us may prefer Trekker, but I am a Trekkie. As a child I wanted nothing more than to be just like Captain Kirk. He was cool and he solved his problems with a certain amount of phaser-firing, but he still kept his cool. He also was able to peacefully mediate some of his problems. I remember as a child watching Star Trek with my mom. She was a Trekkie way before I was. But now I am a Trekkie. I saw the new film, and enjoyed it. I bought a Kirk action figure because he, although he is fictional, is one of my heroes. I imagined myself, as a child, wearing that yellow uniform shirt and sitting in his chair. Maybe one day we will be able to do that. I know what ship name I would pick. Hands down. The USS Enterprise NCC-1701.  Until that day comes, I will remain a Trekkie. Live Long and Prosper

Hollow #2

Soar above the world.
Into the skies.
Into space.
And from here it can be seen
that all the world is hollow.
Humans are little more than sheep.
Blindly following the leader.
The latest fads, the newest sounds.
Follow the piper playing his
ballads of false change.
It is hollow. Empty.
Is there meaning anywhere?
Or is it all just hollow?

Hollow #1

Inside, all the hurt and pain.
Makes me feel empty.
Just so hollow inside.
Dead eyes hiding behind
the semblance of life.
A mask to hide a hollow face.
I search for meaning,
 but there isn't any.
It is hollow.
Just like me everything is hollow.
The empty deadness inside.
Deconstructs me.
I am hollow, with dead eyes
set in my dead face.

Sign of the Times

I walked into a schoolyard yesterday.
And as I stood there I did watch the
children play. And the game was "War"
It just seemed so wrong.
Just another sign of the times.

I heard the President's Address.
How can he claim that we have to treat people right
when we're torn apart by war?
It just seemed so wrong.
Another sign of the times.

I read the newspaper in the morning.
"Triple Homicide" the headlines read.
Why is our news always so bad?
It just seemed so wrong.
Just another sign of the times.

I walked home from the arena yesterday.
I paid money to just sit and watch men fight.
Why is apathy abound?
It just seemed so wrong.
Another sign of the times.

The Devil to Pay

Long ago, in Ireland
A man made a deal.
A deal with the devil
In exchange for immortality
He would collect the devil
Souls of the wicked.
After the bargain was made,
and the contract was signed,
Satan smiled. The man had
not ased for eternal youth
to go with his immortality.
The man would grow
old and wither like a tree.
As the devil grinned his
cheshire grin and stepped
into the dark shadows,
the man appeared with
a cross of gold and chased
Satan up a tree. The man
carved a cross upon the tree
so the devil couldn't leave.
And the devil scowled
for he had been tricked.
The man said "Undo the
Contract and let me go free,
and I shall let you down"
The devil howled and
then acquiesced. The man
let him down, and walked
away a free man. There would
be no devil for him to pay.

Untitled

Walking around

Don’t know what I’ll find
Nothing I know
Nothing I recognize

I stop to rest for a while
To see what can be seen
Walking forever
Walking forever

Never know when
Never know where
My life will change again
Or what I will find

I stop again
To get some food
It’s getting late
Just me alone

The sun goes down
I’m out here alone
Forgotten
A stranger in a strange land

A world not unlike my own
Brown and green and blue
Fresh water, verdant fields
Fresh earth beneath my feet

Trapped alone
On a planet alone
With only my wits to guide me
A prisoner of nothingness

Trapped by ones below myself
Not alone just trapped
Only I can say
What is happening here

Separated from my friends
By bars, incarcerated
Dropped here by chance
I muse to myself

A prisoner of these men
More and less than men
Created by chance
And the curse of mankind

Damn you, damn you
You destroyed man’s chances
While I was gone, lost in the void
Liberty is all that’s left…only her

The Hero with No Fear

The hero with no fear

Strapped in his golden armor
Sword and shield mirror
The stars and moon
As he marches off to war

Behind him banners flew
Celebrating his departure
To the front lines
His master and his friend stand
By his armored horse

He mounts his horse
Smiles and waves
And courageously he goes
On to fight the infinite foe

Shadow, metal and blood
Mingle and wait
Patiently, anxiously
For the hero,
The hero with no fear

The hero with no fear
With parades and celebrations
Far behind him
Shivers in the starless night
For tonight he feels…fear.

He feared for his wife
He feared for his friends
He fears for his unborn child
He fears losing all he holds dear

The villains he must face
Are encamped upon his soul
Encamped upon the shadow of his soul
All those things he feared to
Lose, all those things he cares for…

Meant nothing. A dragon of ice
That dwells in his heart
His eternally burning heart
Whispers “you will lose all”

And the furnace that was his
Passion froze solid, into ice
His dread is the dragon in his
Heart and the horrors he’s seen
Torment him, torture him
The fear clenched his mind in
An iron grip and held him in its thrall

The frozen worm, the decimated mountain
In his mind grew clearer as his fear grew
The hero with no fear turned in his sleep
The last he would ever get. The last he would
Ever have the peace that he needs, the rest

The hero with no fear
Was horrified, was afraid for his life
The salty sting on his scars
Burned and he turned his face away
the burning, the fire consumes him

The hero with no fear stared out
At the commander of his enemies
A twisted version of his visage
The face his wife loved so
A mask covered all, blackened and burned
A cape from the broad shoulders, unable to breathe
To move, to speak. Horrified by what he was

His helmet closes in from the heat
Cutting off his breath
His chest heaves
He struggles to breath
A labor he must endure

His vision goes gray
A hideous simulacrum
Of things he once knew
His own voice a rasp
He can barely speak.

His eyes betrayed him. The confidence
Gone. His looks trapped behind a mask
He could not remove. The bravado, that he once
Possessed was trapped inside his head
His fear a jailor for the man he was

The hero with no fear remembers
Remembers what he was, who he was
The rakish tilt to his brow
His perfect smile
The angled handsome jaw
The face none could see
Trapped inside his head
The fear beneath the face
He wore in public shone through
Lightning arced across the sky
As it did so long ago
After he learned that all he
Loved was gone taken
One by the beast without
The other from the beast within
His fear snatched them both
And he wouldn’t see them…

But he would. He turned on the man
Who hurt him, the man within him
That trapped him, tormented him
In an armored shell of his own exterior
His body asking for release
Release from the prison of his mind
A world trapped in shades of gray
That would be gray no longer
He would return the color to this day
He defeats his oppressor

Tossed off the precipice
The edge, the rim
Scraping…nothing
Infinite drop into infinity
Falling, falling, forever more
The colors burst through
The sun shines again
He returns color to this day
His body broken, torn
Borne home to the places he knew
Returned home, to the people he loved
His time had come, the beckoned him on
On to an infinity of light, as opposed to the infinity
Of dark in which he was trapped for so long…so long
Fire again, but this time release, rather than imprisonment

Life beyond death
Never draw breath
Eternal rest he deserves
Sleep free from fear,
Sleep free from worry
Sleep for forever more
His soul moves on to a
Better place, a place free
From here, from torment
Truly the hero with no fear
No fear, a hero with no fear.

Trimalchio

Born under another name


In another place, in another time
The man who would be God
In the downtrodden west his home
Destined to be nothing
Determined to be something
Before the battlefield he became
Another, a hero, a victor

On eagles wings he raised himself up
From the burnt out ashes of nothingness
He made himself a God of material things
Imposing his will on the world as he pleased
Ordering and reordering, imposing and dominating
Until…he became man, at the hands of a dainty flower
His wings turned to ash and to earth he spiraled
Down, down, down, down, down
Returned to mortality
Reduced to ash

Like a phoenix he was reborn
Drawing himself from the ashes again
With the might of a dream behind him
Remaking himself with money and things
Moving east, being extravagant, living it up
Until he flew too high, into the sun
His eyes raised towards the heavens above

He spiraled down, down, down, down
Once more, this time for good. Defeated
By one with whom he had no quarrel
Landing in water on a cushion of air
He lay floating his arms spread
Like his eagles’ wings
His eyes raised towards the place
From whence he fell
As if to ask “why?”

He left behind naught but a dream
The dream of a world behind him
To his dream millions hearken
Towards the light over the water
To the east with the rising sun
Which would sink where it all began
In the homely, quiet west.

Prometheus' Lament

In this world in which we live
Are endless possibilities

I can see myself in a barren wasteland
A broken world, without green
A sky of gray, unfolding, endless
Looming ominously
But then I see another world,
Another possibility

This time a world of white
A frozen artic landscape
A horrid freezing blight

Next I see a blasted hell
Distorted, burned, and blackened
A giant crater of cold glass
The aftermath of war
Guns, tanks, planes
Defaced by the march of time

The path which we humans walk
Looks mighty, mighty dark

But there are changes which can be made
A way to alter time
To halt the march of eternity
And make the darkness light

All it takes is a little time
And anyone can change
You need a touch of patience
A hand to grasp the ground
An Atlas can be made of any man

In our time heroes are scarce
But it is needless so
A hero can be made
Of almost anything
You, or I can make a difference
And turn the world around
Now the way is slightly brightened
A torch in the abyss

A tiny spark can create fire
The smallest shard a tool
Any change is good
You can make a difference

Any man a warrior
Any thing a sword
A shield of light for common man
The pen of truth and justice
Keep smiting that horrid beast

Man need not be destroyer
Man can also be creator
An overlord of all the world
A god to stand for all
But do we stand to tread ahead
or should we hasten back?

The torch has become a sun
And the darkness has fled

I made a difference
By chasing off the dark
To expose truth and justice
As the sharpest sword

The word has defeated the sword
And Truth stares down his foe
The warlord stares at the surprising victor
And fear has fled the land
The gauntlet falls and darkness calls
But none remain to answer

The enemies of peace
Hasten from the earth
And light descends the victor
From its heavenly abode
And thus the darkness goes
Light, Truth, Justice are free to roam

Thus the war hath ended
And Justice rules supreme

I have made a difference
And now you can too
All you need to do is spread the word
Therefore an end is in sight

The darkness has fled
The aftermath of light
Life is everywhere
And people no longer take flight
There is no need for refuge

And pain is but a dream
War has hastened from the earth
People rule supreme on this
World which we hath made
We became the bearers of light
And needless we hold up the sky


I have made a difference
And now your job is to pass it on

I am Prometheus
And I have passed on the fire
Now your job is to learn
To make it on your own

Knock two stones together
Use kindling to feed the flame
Darkness is dispelled
And a roaring inferno born
Use a branch to make a torch

So long as you pass the fire
Use your torch to light the way
For others who follow after
Pass it on, spread the word
And then the world comes
After and follows in your steps

The Story of My Life (Roller Coaster), Inspired by Social Distortion's Story of My Life

"And the girl in the front of the room
So close yet so far you know
She never seemed to notice
That my silly schoolboy crush
Wasn't just pretend."
--Social Distortion, Story of My Life


When I was eleven I met a girl.
I saw myself in her
And she saw the same in me.
We became good friends,
But it was screwed up in the end.
All because I was young
And immature.
Now she won't say a word to me,
All 'cuz I was young and immature
back then.

It took some time for me to get the guts
To ask out another girl.
But when I did, all I heard was a resounding "No."
'Cuz she said "You're like a brother to me."
And my hopes and dreams were shattered
then and there.
Nothing hurts more than that wound
Buried deep inside, but I've moved on.

All the rejection hurt so I took some time alone.
Two years worth to be precise.
But towards the end of junior year,
it started happening again.
This time I knew it would be alright.
She liked me and I liked her.
But we were shy and couldn't talk
to each other.
I was so afraid of rejection,
That I never asked her.
She wanted to go to prom with me,
I wanted to ask her out.
Just couldn't find the courage.
Ended up losing out.
Graduation day I cried,
That same day I said goodbye.
It is the end for now.

"Life goes by so fast
And all you wanna do is what you think is right
Close your eyes and its past
The story of my life" -Social Distortion, Story of My Life

Philosopher

A wise philosopher sat down with me
at this little dive in Manhattan.
"My son," said he, "I have traveled around the world.
And I've seen many strange things. I saw the Great Wall of China.
I have viewed the pyramids. I have read the great enlightening works.
I have listened to the Buddha. I have heard Bob Dylan singing. I've
studied Zen. I've done Yoga. And of all this great amassed wisdom,
all these wonders I have seen, I have seen nothing that could ever compare
with the composition of this plate."

The Bus

Every time, I get on the Public Transportation System, without fail a person sits next to me and falls asleep. Every single time. Once I sat on the bus and a fat guy asked me to move over so he could sit. I did, being the courteous person I am. Within moments of him sitting down, he fell asleep. And when my stop came, you guessed it, I couldn't leave the bus. Another time I was on the bus and this guy sat down next to me. A guy in a business suit with a pocket-watch and  a bag full of papers. And as we slowly approached my stop, he fell asleep. Not only did he fall asleep, but he fell asleep on me. He put his head on my shoulder and dozed right off. I tried to extricate myself from him because this was my stop. I gently lifted his head from my shoulder. I then darted off the bus and  as I watched his head drop into the seat that I had been occupying. I turned and darted towards my home. Another time, whilst I was on the bus, a woman sat in the window seat. When the person occupying the seat next to her got off at her stop, I took their place. I, in hindsight, regret this decision. This woman snored. And not just any snoring, the snoring equivalent of living next to an oil drill on one side and a sawmill on the other. It was impossible to ignore it. I couldn't even hear my iPod on its maximum volume setting. I couldn't stand it. I got up and gave my seat away to a small child.

A Trip to the MET (Time Travel)

Time TRAVEL has not been kind.
I saw a discus-throwing chap,
who was missing an arm and a leg BACK IN THE 5th CENTURY BC!
I walked right past a  woman with no arms.
ALL ROADS LEAD TO ROME And now
I viewed knights mounted on charging horses.
CRUSADERS ALL IN WHITE AND RED!
I sat in a room with a LONG FORGOTTEN temple,
surrounded by the waters of time.
I stared at it for hours. Days.
Until I saw it in its native land.
A faraway place with flowing sands.
SURROUNDED BY SPHINXES AND PYRAMIDS.
I continue my trip THROUGH THE AGES
and end up in the Robert Lehman Collection.
Impressionist works by Botticelli. Paintings by Rembrandt
Here I see some famous works like
Pablo Picasso PAINTING his famous portrait of
Gertrude Stein AS SHE STANDS IN FRONT OF ME.
A few hours TO ME. IN ACTUALITY A MATTER OF MINUTES later
I step out the door OF THE TIME MACHINE and  walk down the
MARBLE steps of the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

Art (Sign of the Times)

I once saw a girl
With alabaster skin
And obsidian eyes.
And she spoke to me.
And she spoke with me.
She told me of a far off land.
She spoke to me of troubles,
and turmoil. She conversed about
the situation of her conception,
and the times.She told me all about
her far off land, and her distant time.
 I looked at her further under the
halogen bulbs. I stood there contemplating,
this girl with the alabaster skin and obsidian eyes.
I noticed the smoothness of her skin,
the veins of her marbled pedestal.
I just stood there contemplating.
Slowly, I turned and walked
down the endless hall
to the untold forgotten ages.

Beowulf Ascending: Beowulf v. Grendel

In Hrothgar’s reign
In land of Dane
A hall was built
With walls of gilt
For drinking ales
And swapping tales

One night of storm
And lightning borne
In Hall of Hart
Where greatest dart
Was thrust into the lives of men
A creature came from monstrous den

Grendel, haunter of the fen
Escaped from his mother’s den
The curse of Cain’s seed
Punishment for the ancient deed
Of killing his own brother, Abel
Bearing the terror of God’s label

At nightfall when the fiend drew near
Many men drew sword and spear
Mirth was stilled by sound of weeping
No women or children were left sleeping
For the demon devours
30 men, bearing no trace of their powers

And thus Grendel raged and raided
Until the great debt was payed.
12 winters the Scyldlings lost
12 mounds gained ringed with frost.
In heathen temples the Scyldlings offered prayer
But no gods their hurt could repair

Then tales of Grendel’s terrible deeds
Reached Hygelac’s thane while Beowulf feeds
In his home with the Geats
Great warriors known best for their feats
A goodly vessel Beowulf commanded in need
To put an end to Grendel’s greed

The Scyldling coast guards spotted
Great ships from the east and became quite besotted
With the idea of warriors with polished steel
And the relief the Scyldling’s would soon feel
From the monstrous Grendel’s Wrath
And an end to his familiar path

Lord of Weders, descendant of Scyld
Declared that the hall be filled
With the peoples of the leader Dane
And Ecgtheow’s son Beowulf, the thane
And here Beowulf made a boast of his great quest
And solemn vow to do his best

Unferth, Ecglaf’s son, asked of the famous task
And Beowulf replied, draining his flask:
“Breca and I made a similar boast
To swim from Geatland to Juteland to meat a host
Of warriors strong and bold, but the north wind’s icy blast
Pushed Breca far past

Myself in this race of sea
I turned to find that some beast belayed me
I pierced the fish with point of steel
No more pain would that beast feel
But again and again the fish set me sore
When I was through no beast would bother sailors anymore

Fate goes as fate must”
Beowulf declared, idly practicing his thrust
Hrothgar said to assembled host
“Ecgtheow’s son will make good his boast
And slay the beast that us so saddens
This man our heart gladdens

The hall is his to complete his boast”
Removing the assembled host
So Beowulf and his men could sleep
And healing virtue thus reap
Then came striding in the night,
Grendel expecting no fight

But one he found
As warriors woke from sleep so sound
The great demon prepared his worst
But for the first time he found luck accursed
For among warriors armed with sword and spear
Grendel had found a thing to fear

He entered the hall expecting to feast
But a warrior stood and blocked the beast
Beowulf, the thane
To try and kill the bane of Dane
Who had sworn an oath and made a boast
Before a great assembled host

Beowulf watched the beast begin
From deep within
The shadows of Hrothgar’s hall
He began to plot the beast’s great fall.
Forward still Grendel came
But Beowulf, he was no lame

And hearkened nearer to the beast
As it began its grisly feast
Beowulf ran and set his arms
The ogre still took no harms
Grendel had never met another in this middle-earth
With a grip like Beowulf’s, to kill his mirth

Beowulf kept then in mind the boasts he had made
And finally the great troll’s debt was payed
As Beowulf broke Grendel’s arm
The monster finally came to harm.
Grendel finally did fall to the floor of stone
Breaking still more bone

Still Grendel strove
to escape the hideous stove
The crucible of his own end
A message then the beast did send
In cry to its hideous mother
A beast compared with no other.

Grendel then did finally fall
Warm feelings came to the hearts of all
The Scyldlings and the Geats both
But Scyldings and Geats were loath
To ignore the final scream
And the hatching of its mother’s scheme.

Beowulf Ascending Introduction and Notes

An introduction to Beowulf by the poet


Beowulf is not my own creation. He is a product of a far more romantic and mystical age. Beowulf was originally told between 700 and 900 AD, as an oral poem. Interestingly, as the legend of Beowulf is considered the finest work of the English language, its characters are all Norse. At the time the Anglo-Saxons were at war with the Norse, so it is a paradox to consider that the Anglo-Saxons would tell tales of their enemies. It probably originated as a Norse tale far before it was told in England. Even so it is a fantastic tale of heroism and monsters. At some point in the long history of the tale, some monks added Christian values to an essentially pagan tale of gods and heroes. That is why some of its parts are incongruous but it is impossible to remove them from the tale. I also preserved the place-names of the time. Geatland is modern Norway and Juteland is southern Sweden. The Geats are Norwegians and the Scyldlings are Danes. A thane is equivalent to a medieval lord.

A note on pronunciation and naming

The Anglo-Saxon naming system was incredibly complex. Thus all characters are introduced Beowulf, Son of Ecgtheow. Even Hrothgar, the king of the Scyldlings is introduced as Hrothgar, descendant of Scyld, Lord of Weders. I tried, to the best of my ability to preserve this part of the epic in my retelling.

Pronunciation

Ecgtheow should be pronounced EJE-theow, as the cg sound in Anglo-Saxon makes a sound equivalent of the modern J. Ecglaf follows this same rule.
Hygelac should be pronounced High-elak. He is King of the Geats
Grendel is pronounced with a rolling R. GRendEl
Breca is prounounced BreKa.

Burying the Living

Every day we wake up.
Every day we drag ourselves from bed.
Every day we drive to work.
Every day we sit in cubicles.
Every day we bury the living.
A shovel full of stupid, brainless, robotic work.
This is the dirt with which we bury the living.

Every evening we drive home from work.
Every evening we eat dinner.
Every evening we watch TV.
Every evening we go to bed.
Every evening we bury the living.
A shovel full of drivel, moronic television.
This is the dirt with which we bury the living.

One day we will wake up.
One day we will drag ourselves from bed.
One day we will drive to work.
One day we will sit in carpeted caskets.
One day our children will bury the living.
A shovel full of our words, our fears, our works.
And we will be buried living.

On the Vampire (From the original unfinished work To Chill the Bone)

In today's culture, the vampire or vampyre as it is sometimes spelled, has become something else entirely. In Transylvania, terrified villagers spent centuries in fear of the undead ghasts; now however, the vampire has become objectified, albeit in a different manner. Modern interpretations of vampires are terribly inaccurate. In some vampires are considered "attractive." I however would find it a major disadvantage if my significant other, upon viewing me, would attempt to drain my blood. Perhaps there is some sort of asthetic pleasentry in having a parter who, when kissing you, misses, hits your jugular and drains you like a glass. True vampires, according to centuries of vampire lore, have numerous weaknesses. Among these disadvantages are sunlight, silver, mirrors, garlic, miscellaneous religious artifacts, sharpened wood stakes, and other assorted items, including the wolf-man. According to legend, even a person whose blood has been drained once by a vampire cannot wear a cross, be near garlic, or even be exposed to the rays of the sun. This creation is called a "pseudo-vampire." It seems to me that a supposed "vampire" or even "pseudo-vampire" would be a tremendous inhbibitor to romanticism. "Oh yes dear, let us take a long walk upon the beach," one could say, and mere seconds into the moment the poor vampire would be no more than a pile of ash. I would take it as an issue, if whilst dancing at a ball, my dance partner had no reflection. I would run like mad.

It is the duty of a vampire, whose powers include enhanced charisma, hypnotic sight, transmutation, flight, and enhanced speed and agility, to create more of its kind. In order to do so a person's blood must be drained thrice over three consecutive nights. If it is, on the fourth day the person will die and on the fifth day shall rise a vampire. The newly created vampire is under exclusive control of the vampire who created it. If the creating vampire is killed, after 1 week the vampire will regain some sense of self and then set about to create more of itself in the manner of its predecessor. This can prove to be a problem as vampires are immortal to a certain extent.  However it is fairly easy to destroy a vampire (one cannot "kill" a vampire as it is impossible to kill those already dead.) A vampire can be destroyed through the use of silver, a wooden stake, or a religious artifact. All one must do is go to the vampires lair in the daytime, as they are asleep, and plunge said object be it a stake, a piece of silver (it is easier to use a silver stake), or a religious artifact and plunge it through the heart of the vampire.

To Build a Man (From the original unfinished work To Chill the Bone)

In order to effectively build a man, you must first acquire yourself a proper laboratory (pronounced lab O ratory). The best places are in abandoned gothic castles. You then need to either buy or build the following items;

Three (3) Seventy five foot (75') tall iron lightning rods.
A pair of TV rabbit ears with an electrical current running through it (entirely unnecessary except that it looks really cool)
A black and white video camera (it is imperative that you have this to record your big moment)
A table with iron restraints on it (you REALLY need this to restrain your creature)
One (1) extra large electrical generator
One (1) overly large rusty cobwebbed switch

Once you have all of these items properly installed in your laboratory and arranged to your liking you can finally begin building your man. You should also have a good copy of Anatomy for Dummies in front of you. Before you start to construct said monstrosity you need to collect the proper parts:

One (1) right arm
One (1) left arm
One (1) right leg
One (1) left leg
One (1) trunk (the body kind)
One (1) pair of lungs
One (1) heart
One (1) head
One (1) brain

Affix the right arm to the right side of the trunk. Affix the left arm to the left side of the trunk. Attach right leg to right side of trunk. Attach  left leg to left side of trunk. Connect head. Insert brain in head. Insert lungs and heart into the trunk. The heart goes on the left side.

Wait for a suitably large lightning storm. During the storm have leaders from lightning rods to the person you constructed. When the creation starts to move scream IT'S ALIVE! as loud as possible.

Curse of the Wolf (From the unfinished original work, To Chill the Bone)

When the wolfsbane blooms,
and the full moon o'erhead looms,
The Curse of the Wolf is upon us.

Naught can hurt the beast,
save the bullet of silver during his feast.
The Curse of the Wolf is upon us.

When the wolfsbane blooms,
and the full moon o'erhead looms,
The Curse of the Wolf is upon us.

Stay indoors, and out of the moon,
When you hear the deadly croon.
The Curse of the Wolf is upon us.

When the wolfsbane blooms,
and the full moon o'erhead looms,
The Curse of the Wolf is upon us.

Hammer Films Proudly Presents!

Late Night Chiller Theatre Double Feature

'Tis drawing near the midnight hour,
on this Halloween eve.
And you know what that means.
It is time for the Late Night Chiller Theatre Double Feature.

Cheesy grade b- horror flicks.
The worst I've ever seen.
And yet I keep on coming back.
To the Late Night Chiller Theatre Double Feature.

The Day the Earth Stood Still and Tarantula,
Forbidden Planet and It Came from Outer Space
Some of the worst movies ever made
On the Late Night Chiller Theatre Double Feature.

The Kiss of the Vampire was campy,
and Dracula's Daughter was bad.
But they still hold you like a spell,
On the Late Night Chiller Theatre Double Feature.

I've never seen worse filmography,
than that displayed in Them.
But its still so much fun to watch
On the Late Night Chiller Theatre Double Feature.

Now that Zacherle's gone,
and so is Vincent Price, Elvira has taken the stage.
To announce Ed Wood's Plan 9 from Outer Space
On the Late Night Chiller Theatre Double Feature.

A macabre mix
of Sci-fi and bad horror
But it holds me so,
The Late Night Chiller Theatre Double Feature.

Well Bela Lugosi is dead,
and Karloff's entombed,
Who is gonna play those roles?
Time to find out on the Late Night Chiller Theatre Double Feature.

Hey they had color then,
So why are these films all
filmed in black and white?
On the Late Night Chiller Theatre Double Feature.

Bosco syrup is blood
and Jell-O is brains
Every Halloween
On the Late Night Chiller Theatre Double Feature

These movies are terrible,
and campy as anything
So why do I keep on coming back?
To the Late Night Chiller Theatre Double Feature.

Hey be quiet back there,
The hand is on
and everyone knows what that means
Its once again time for the Late Night Chiller Theatre Double Feature.

Hallow's E'en

It is a week until Hallow's E'en.
I have to perform the chore of taking my little brother trick or treating,
the small ghoul that he shall be, in his black and purple robe.
It is my duty to protect him, and keep him safe.
He feels that it is my duty to help him get the most possible candy.

It is a week until Hallow's E'en.
My radio station is playing Halloween Garage Rock,
from such unknowns as The Fuzztones, The Mummies,
The Kingsmen and Screaming Lord Such.
And yes, it's true, "I walked with a Zombie last night*."

It is a week until Hallow's E'en.
It is my job, as the resident "AH-tist" in my house,
To design the Jack O' Lantern. My brother wants scary,
my father wants simple, as he must carve my design.
I cannot be limited in such a way, (Perhaps I shall choose
a raven) for I am the resident "AH-tist."

It is a week until Hallow's E'en.
Oh, how I miss John Zacherle.
The best part of my Hallow's E'en.
On CBS FM, he used to be, when I was little.
I'd get back from my Trick or Treating,
all hopped up on candy, and he would be on.

It is a week until Hallow's E'en.
It is my family tradition to read some Poe,
some Service, and The Jabberwocky by Lewis Carrol.
It is my calling to read The Cremation of Sam McGee,
and The Shooting of Dan McGrew. "For the northern lights have
seen queer sights but the queerest they ever did see, was that night on the
marge of Lake Le Barge, where I cremated Sam McGee...*"

It is a week until Hallow's E'en.
The Hallow's E'en specials are on.
"It's the Great Pumpkin Charlie Brown"
"Garfield's Halloween"
and some new ones I've never seen.
But it's all right, for it is one week until Hallow's E'en

*Author's Note:
The quotations are as follows, in order of appearance:
I Walked with a Zombie by Roky Erickson and the Aliens
The Cremation of Sam McGee by Robert Service

The Comic Book Store

There is no place on earth like it,
A haven for nerds and geeks.
It is the comic book store.
There is no smell like a comic book store,
The freshness of new comics,
The crisp paper of books,
The walls of action figures.
There is no place on earth like it.
It is the comic book store.
A haven for all people.
Wouldn't it be a better world,
if there were more comic book stores?
It is the one place where all nerds
Can come together, regardless of likes.
Otaku are present, and Marvel-ites;
As well as Trekkies, and Jedi;
DCphiles and Dark Horses.
It is a haven for all.
There is no place on earth
quite like the comic book store.

Alice from Wonderland (An attempt at Whimsical Poetry inspired by Lewis Carrol's Alice's Adventures in Wonderland)

Whilst I was walking in the park,
I did suddenly espy,
A hole in a tree 'bout 6 inches high.
Cut clean into the bark.

At first I watched in wonderment
As a girl stepped out the door
But to my surprise she grew in size
The second her feet hit the floor.
My mouth gaped in puzzlement.

How could this be so?
What could happen
To make her grow?
When suddenly I heard a tappin'

The tappin' came from the tiny door,
Out of which stepped a faerie
The faerie folk stepped clean out of that withered oak
And it was kinda scary
To see a faerie straight out of tales of lore.

When suddenly I did ope my eyes
I looked out from my bleary countenance
And boy was I sure surprised
That straight from my childhood experience
Stood Alice straight from Wonderland!

Deja Vu

It must be deja vu.
It feels like I'm young again
And I'm walking down the same long hall.
And she walks by, just as before.
She catches my eye and smiles shyly.
I catch her eye, and smile shyly.
But I walk away, and nothing happens.
It must be deja vu.
Again, again, again, again, again,
Again, again, again, again, again,
Again, again, again, again, again...
...again, again, again, again, Again,
again, again, again, again, Again,
again, again, again, again, Again
It must be deja vu.
I walk away, and nothing happens.
I catch her eye and smile shyly.
She catches my eye and smiles shyly.
And she walks by, just as before.
It feels like I'm young again.
It must be deja vu.
Again, again, again, again, again,
Again, again, again, again, again,
Again, again, again, again, again...
...again, again, again, again, Again,
again, again, again, again, Again,
again, again, again, again, Again
It must be deja vu.
It's now today.
I'm sitting at a table,
Talking with a girl I've seen before.
Talking of everything and nothing.
All happening just as it did before.
It must be deja vu.
Again, again, again, again, again,
Again, again, again, again, again,
Again, again, again, again, again...
...again, again, again, again, Again,
again, again, again, again, Again,
again, again, again, again, Again
It must be deja vu.
All happening just as it did before.
Talking of everything and nothing.
Talking with a girl I've seen before.
I'm sitting at a table.
It's now yesterday.
It must be deja vu.

My Shadow

I tear away my mask,
my skin, my flesh.
The shadow
Inside of me
Takes over, with his
glowing red eyes
and cheshire cat smile.
He laughs as his
dark aura paralyzes
passerby with fear.
"I am your nightmares
the bogeymen in your closet",
the shadow croons,
"I am why you fear the dark."
But then the light returns,
trapping the dark inside.
And my face returns
with my golden eyes
masking the fire within.
The nightmare ends,
I wake up screaming
and then realize its all ok,
it was just a nightmare.

Erga Or Puella

Prius Pars

Lubricus mihi notitia submensa
Donec ego eram reputo tripartiens suus vestio
Eram timidus eo verto absems
Prae est capio meus oculus
Ego eram crispus in meus pes
Aliquis fueram a habitum in mihi
Ut illa obduco iuxta.

Alter Pars

Insideo vehiculum ego iustus non exspecto
Sumo vos sursum in nostrum valde primoris balanus
Est frigus si ego habitum vestri manus?
Secus vos coniecto ut ego nare acta teneo quis ut gero?
Ego sum quoque vix of quis vos reputo planto mihi formido
Sic ego vere nequeo epulum.

Time for Immortals

Swiftly does time flow for the immortals.

A day is a heartbeat and a minute is forever.

An eternity in the moment

The moment in eternity.

Time marches on. Seconds ticking away.

The background blurs,

and the moment becomes sepia toned,

like an old photograph.

It's like a western, with the moment in the sun

before they draw stretched infinitely.

For immortals, there is no time.

There is only the infinite now

and the subjective past.

The library slows down.

The background blurs,

whilst the foreground

remains crisp and perfect.

There is the flash of a taken photo

and the present is preserved eternally.

Maybe someday, in the future,

10,000 years from now, more or less,

someone will find the photo of the immortal.

And stare in wonder, about the signifigance.

What does it mean, this photo of the immortal?

Why would anyone take a picture of the moment,

when in truth it is a photo, spaghettified,

dragged into infinity, the moment,

Forever in the life of an immortal.

Gabriel: A Flash Fiction in 7 Parts

I do not want to wantonly destroy. I have done it far too many times. But it is my duty. I have watched in vain as people repeated the same mistakes. I see it now in America. I see echoes of the bread and circuses of Rome, the grandeur of Egypt, the debauchery of Greece, and the arrogance of ancient Israel. Why do humans refuse to learn from the lessons of their own history. They see the mistakes, say never again, and yet continue to replay the same drama. No longer will they be able to make mistakes. Tonight Styx overflows!

I Remember

I remember my first Mideval fair,
with pageantry and jousting.
It changed my life forever.

I remember reading Beowulf,
when I was only 10.

I remember The Lord of the Rings,
both the books and the movies.

I remember my first poem published.

I remember first watching Star Trek
when I was only 4,
With my yellow shirt and wooden chair.

I remember Star Wars, back in '97.
Remastered in theaters.
Starting with 4.

I remember my first action figure.
It was Luke Skywalker.

I remember when my brother was born,
Back in 1999.

I remember my dad reading to me.
I remember the New Millenium.
I remember Y2K.
I remember starting elementary school.
I remember my first new friend.
I remember starting High School,
with a stomach full of butterflies.
I remember graduation,
tears streaming down my cheeks.
I remember Model UN and the
friends I made there.

I remember so much history.
Family vacations, fun places.
I remember day trips to the city.
I remember museums and movies.
I remember many birthdays, shared and separate.

I remember the story of my life.

Love Poem

THIS IS NOT A LOVE POEM!
You'll find here no pretty words.
No metaphor. No simile.
No Shakespearean comparison.
THIS IS NOT A LOVE POEM!

I have............................................................. been loved.
I have............................................................. loved.
Never............................................................. simultaneously.
I have shared no tender moments
No cutesy Facebook photos.
This is not a love poem.
My heart is scarred and oft broken.
Still it beats, pumping blood.
Feeding the beast.
My hopes and dreams............................................................. destroyed,
............................................................. broken, ............................................................. fragmented,
Destroyed by the one spoken word,............................................................. ............................................................. The word no man wants to hear.............................................................
The quietly spoken............................................................. oft uttered............................................................. "No."
The words no one ever spoke to me .............................................................
"I love you"

I was thinking about what to write for a blog post for a while. I started to listen to my iPod and by coincidence the song was Vicarious by Tool. The video for this song is below. It's a great song but as with all Tool songs the video is extremely wierd. It made me think of Mike.

Vicarious is the property of Tool, and Tool Dissectional/Volcano Entertainment.

Gabriel: A Flash Fiction in 7 Parts

This is my seventh life on Earth. This is the 7th time I have been sent to experience life. I am the harbinger of doom. I destroyed Israel, Egypt, Greece, Rome and many others. Now I am bringing the final end of the world. The seven deadly sins are running rampant, and God is displeased. I was sent to unleash the plagues. I was sent to free the horsemen. My name is Gabriel and I am an angel.

The Watchmen

In their marble towers the lords of men sit
Watching, always watching, the lives of
The people they lord over. They hold us
Transfixed, like butterflies on a pin
They laugh as we live and die, love and hate
They do not comprehend us, these once-men
They are the Watchers, the Watchmen
They stare, waiting for humanity to cry for help
Their faces are indeterminate, changing on a whim
They see our great streets as gutters, full of debris
We are naught to them, these gods-among-men
Yet they live among us, as one of us and we do
Not see. Perhaps that is why they watch and we
Ignore all save that which immediately concerns
Us, the pathetic remains of a fragmented humanity.
One day we laud them and thank them, the next
We riot, causing them to come down from above
And control, as they always do. For they are the
Watchmen, and they await the end.

They are the Watchmen. They saw all.
Now their towers are ruins. They were right
We would need them, and now that they
Are gone we need them more. They laugh
From the heavens above, as we beg
And they whisper “No. We shall not help.
We only watch. You say you need us not,
So we shall no longer help you. It is yours”
And we weep, as our cities are destroyed,
One by one we destroy each other, and
They but watch, for that is their job.
We made them pathetic shells of
Themselves, we made them what they are.
And when all hope is lost, they will laugh.
They shall have the last laugh. For as they
Were first, they shall be last. They alone
Were brave enough to stare into the blackness
Were strong enough to resist the dark.
They are the Watchmen.
They see all.

If they are the Watchmen, who watches over them?

Ozymandias (Inspired by Horace Smith)

Ozymandias

In the days of lore as t’was told long ago
There was no man more feared than the mighty
Ozymandias, the King of Kings. He stands now,
Half lost in the sandy wastes of Egypt, half-
Buried by the shifting sands. His mighty legs
Stand, torn off above the calf. His shattered
Head lays yards away. The pedestal, with
Giant feet, reads simply “I am the Great
Ozymandias, the King of Kings; this mighty
City shows the wonders of my hands”
His trunkless legs stand, no city stands behind
Him, yet he still stands. This forgotten king, this
Ozymandias, has vanished much as his statue has.
What had this Ozymandias wrought? This forgotten
King of yesteryear, this Ozymandias is gone, as is
His city. Ozymandias stands steadfast before a
Shattered city, its components laid bare. Had
Ozymandias broken this city? What had transpired here?
What had Ozymandias sacrificed? Had this bygone lord
Of a long forgotten past, stood on the verge of Armageddon,
And sacrificed himself and his people, for the greater good?
Who is Ozymandias? What had he done? Had this fearsome
Potentate stared down the end of his age, and with a wry
Smirk on his brow, had he not surrendered, and watched
As his city was destroyed? Ozymandias, who art thou?
Ozymandias, stands alone in the desert, his stony
Face stares out o’er the great expanse, and his frozen
Lips speak the words “I am Ozymandias, King of Kings”

NOTE: The first quotation is from Horace Smith's Poem Ozymandias.

Beach

Squawking seagull flys
Flys over the beach. King of the sky.
Waves continue to crash.

I Hate the Beach

I despise the beach.
I'm the Scrooge of beaches.
Too much sand, freezing water.
Flying rats circle like buzzards.
I hate the beach.
I don't tan. I burn.
The air is cold.
The sun is concealed by the clouds.
I hate the beach.
I'm the Scrooge of beaches.
I hate them.
I hate them.
I despise beaches.
I hate the beach.
The sand is in my shoes.
It's on my pants.
My socks are wet.
I hate the beach

I Hate Haikus

I really hate haikus.
All of these strictures and rules.
I DESPISE HAIKUS!

The Good Old Days

In my youth:
I was younger.
Times were simpler.
I had more hair.
There was no Rock and Roll.
Everyone respected their elders.
I walked 3 miles to school, uphill both ways.
We got mail more than once a day. And not all of it was bills!
There were no seat belts.
Dates were chaperoned.
Wars were actually WON!
When I was young.

7 Deadly

Do you know your sin?
I know mine.
I am Envy, Pride and Wrath.
Do you know your sin?
I kinda like all 7.
Lust, Sloth, Gluttony,
Wrath, Greed, Pride,
Envy. The 7 deadly sins.

The Epitaph of a Lonely Guy

This is my tale, let it be a warning to you:

I was born alone.
I died alone.
In between I was lonely.
No friends. No loves.
All alone.
An eternity of lonelyness,
Punctuated by more lonelyness.
This is the epitaph of a Lonely Guy.

Here Lies A Lonely Guy

Golden Age: A Tale of a Changed America part 3: Right Wing

1950. Sen. Joe McCarthy and his hunt for Reds hiding in American Society. The greatest symbol of this time is Right Wing, McCarthy's personal hound. Right Wing was poised to become the new War Hawk of this turbulent Post-War time. But Truman shot down McCarthy's candidate. So Right Wing began to take his vengeance. He hunted down and killed numerous people he claimed were Commies, and used McCarthy's name as his authority. But it all changed when he started to target the Senators who denied his petition to become War Hawk. Right Wing had gone from good to bad, hunting down and killing many American citizens. He became a public enemy, and started to commit other crimes. Burglaries, murder, torture. These were his new duties. He quickly killed 13 Senators and robbed industrialist Howard Hughes blind. He tortured a family for 3 days because he felt that they were Reds.

The Government quickly shut down Right Wing. The file says he is a complete psychopath. That is inaccurate. Right Wing is a sociopath.

In 1963 he broke out of a Sanitarium, and he hasn't been heard of since.

But the 1960s saw the rise of a new type of hero: the Super-Hero. The 60's also saw another type of hero: the shadowy figures known only as Blank and Wickerman.

I Ate a Raisin

I ate a raisin.............................................................................................................................................
.......................I watched it.......................................................................................................................
............................................I smelled it...................................................................................................
................................................................I felt it.......................................................................................
............................................................................I proceeded to lift it to my mouth............................
...............slowly................an inch at a time................................................................I felt it on my tongue...................I was mindful only of the raisin.......................I let the aroma drown me.......
...................I tasted the sweetness.............................I ate a raisin.

My Disease

There's a war inside me...............................................................
........................and its tearing me apart
All those things.................................................................................I never said are eating me from inside................................................................................All those times I was told I'm like a brother to them........................................All these things are my disease...........And it's mine alone...........................................................I wish I could tear out my heart.................................................................................It causes me pain.
This is ..............................................my war. ............................This........................................is.................................
MY .................................................................................DISEASE

Self-Titled

I watch your lives collapsing every single night.
Puppets on a string to dance for my delight.

You look towards the sky as you prepare to die.
Lightning forks across a darkened sky.
And a silhouette appears.
Its mine you see, with glowing eyes
And strings from each long finger.
Smiling as your life ebbs away.
It is the Master of Puppets you see.

I watch your lives collapsing every single night.
Puppets on a string to dance for my delight.

I plan your life, from the cradle to the grave.
Your convictions, afflictions, addictions.
Acted from my script.
Your loves, your losses and your emotions.
From the pages of my book.

I watch your lives collapsing every single night.
Puppets on a string to dance for my delight.

You bow down before me in your final moments.
Accepting the facts that I control you.
That I'm the Master of Puppets
And it is I who pulls your strings.

Golden Age (A Tale of a Changed America): Part 1 The War Hawk

Prologue
This is the story of an America that never existed. It is built as ours is, and operates as ours does, with one exception. This America has masked heroes, and super-men that fight for their country, in war and peace. This America begins much as ours does with one exception. Its history truly begins in the year 1774. Around the time of the Stamp Act and the Quartering Acts that precipitated the historic Boston Tea Party, as well as the Boston Massacre, the first of a breed made his appearance. This is the story of the War Hawk.

The War Hawk Cometh…
A man wearing a distinctive outfit lurked in the shadows of an alley. He wore a tricorn hat, a mask to obscure his eyes, a blue jacket with white stars emblazoned on it, a red coat and white breeches. He cut a dramatic figure in these troubled times. He then proceeded to enter the house adjacent to the alley. He knew that the home quartered British regulars, intended to squash the rebellious spirit of the port of Boston. He knew that the soldiers would fail. In his actions tonight, he would spark rebellion through the colonies. The War Hawk made his move. He kicked down the door to the house and slaughtered the soldiers silently. He wrote on the walls Sic Semper Tyranus. He would strike a blow from which the British Empire would never recover. At Concord, he stood with the minutemen and helped crush the British troops there. He became a rallying symbol for the embattled republic. He allowed the Americans to crush the British in battle after battle, finally ending the war, and becoming a symbol of the fledgling United States of America. The War Hawk retired, as there was now no war for him to fight. Years later, the weakened British Empire tried to fight America again, and as before she lost. Britain lost control, and America became a new Empire, controlling much of Canada, many other British colonies in the Caribbean.
1861 brought war back to America. The election of Abraham Lincoln sparked a rebellion in the southern states, causing secession and the beginning of bloody civil war. Lincoln drafted the Super-Patriot Act, thus creating a new War Hawk. This War Hawk again became a rallying point, causing many victories. However, the shattered remains of the once mighty British Empire came to the aid of the South, dragging out the war, and allowing the South to win some major battles, including at Bull Run. However France came to the aid of the Union, crushing both the Confederacy and the fragmented British Empire. In 1865,the former President of the Confederacy, Jefferson Davis, attempted to assasinate Lincoln at his second Inaugural. However, the crack heard throughout the streets was not the crack of gunfire. It was the crack of an arm being broken. War Hawk had prevented the assasination of President Lincoln, and destroyed the once powerful leader of the Confederacy.

From then on War Hawk had become a major force in America, fighting in every war. However, in 1923, everything would change. It would mark the dawn of a new phenomena, a team of vigilantes known as the Riyot Squad.

The Wall?

Is that a Wall?
Who built it?
Will it ever fall?
Does it separate us?
As individuals?
As a group?
Does it even exist at all?
Who's to say?
It's just the Wall.

Monsters

All blank edges are filled in,
No monsters now,
Save those within.



Perhaps the monsters under your bed grew up too?
Maybe they're still stalking you?

Ongoing Assessment