Do not curse the darkness -- light a candle.
~Chinese proverb~

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[~ SilentMachine!! ~] [13 Feb 2005|01:42am]

Maren, my girl, I have been TRYING to get ahold of you for ages. Haha. I just remembered this community that I am apart of! =P

Tried e-mailing you for like months...can't post comments in your journal...

Woman, you are BLOODY IMPOSSIBLE to get ahold of, you know that!



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The Utterly Improbable History of the only Yellow Jubril of Mons Pavonis. [02 Apr 2004|07:15pm]

[ mood | accomplished ]

Mons Pavonis is widely considered the oddest result of any experiment ever produced, by which they mean it wasn't as much an experiment as it was the fortunate union of a small interstellar trout caught in a small chunk of ice mixed with the remains of that afternoon's snacks. Hardly an experiment, you see? Somehow a small planet formed from the afore mentioned combination and soon enough the most improbable being to ever have lived was created as well. A drastically dim-witted creature known as the only Yellow Jubril, currently of Mons Pavonis.

After what seemed like a very successful civilization had formed, a small accident involving harsh chemicals and some unfortunate worker's bad vision cause all life to cease to be. With the obvious exception of one Yellow Jubril, who was suspiciously well protected by some trees, assorted bunches of small berries and 9 layers very well placed krytanium.

Mass extinction being as tiring as it was it found a nap was in order, but was abruptly interrupted by a Twin Engine Stellar Luxury Pillaging Cruise. In a strikingly bright pink. Two oddly tube-like beings bounded out demanding to be given immediate control of the planet, only to be disappointed by the lack of ears for those commands to fall deaf upon. A quick argument over who chose the planet later and the ship blasted hastily back into space with the addition of what turned out to be the only Yellow Jubril, formerly of Mons Pavonis.

During the very pleasant trip there seemed to be a lovely planet quickly approaching the vessel. Several curses and an immediate drop in speed indicated that they had run out of fuel. Although greatly enjoying the view it grew curious about the bright burning ball that was hurtling through space towards what seemed to be a very nice planet indeed. It unfurled wings even it didn't know it had, but was glad it did and resumed its pace towards the planet.

As it entered the planet's atmosphere the ship assumed a highly unlikely collision course with what turned out to be a meteor which, apparently, would herald the total annihilation of the planet and everything on it, sadly. In an even more unlikely turn of events as both bodies collided they negated each other's force and amazingly both fell harmlessly into a nearby bodies of water. As the tube-like beings emerged from the wreckage of what previously was their ship they were being hailed as great heroes, much to their bewilderment. The meteor was arrested under suspicion of malicious acts and the Yellow Jubril, formerly of Mons Pavonis wandered off in look of a drink.

Finding none it was forced to chose a dwelling at random, accurately guessed the custom of knocking and politely asked for a cup of tea of the local equivalent. It was allowed in and sat, stood or laid there as it slowly enjoyed a decent cup of tea and proceeded to recount its tale to the owner of that dwelling. I listened intently.

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Avatar [22 Mar 2004|05:22pm]

[ mood | satisfied ]

Your drab meanings and bland cries.
Innermost emotions fed into mainstream.
Far be it, and it shall always be for you.
Don't say it, just show that one as yours.
Your heart screams out and you get someone else?

Beats to hums. Hey! that's my story too.
Fall in line, the fact you're not the same.
What makes you unique has already been done.
You cry as you're touched by the music,
along with 80 other people in the room.

Your previous heart aches,
all contained in a handy Greatest Hits.

[Inspired by the Evanecense's My Immortal. So many love that song and swear it's all about them. Instead of being original they just play that shit over and over again.]

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Uncle [22 Mar 2004|04:11am]
It was on the day of my uncle's funeral that I recognized the meaning of faith. Far be it from me to truly understand rituals and what they meant. But, today, I felt something. Something stronger than what I had believed in my past. Stronger than just me - for a change.

The road traveled to the church from the funeral home - where a short open-casket viewing of my uncle took place - still reminded me of why I had been filled with so much disbelief and hatred towards others. As the line of cars slowly wound through a small town with many entrances and exits of too many pointless shops, cars would quickly weave in and out of what should have been a respected procession of mourners. It seemed for each block that was travelled, the audacity of the uninnocent onlookers grew; a rudeness that was infuriating me at every turn. Even though all of this seemed so aggrevating, the final moments before we pulled into the church parking lot clarified what I knew was true. The world was filled with vanity and selfishness. The reminder of this was a glowing sign on a building of a tanning salon, just thirty feet from the sacred walls of the church.

On the path to the open doors of the church, I could feel the warm sun on my back. It was a cold December morning, just before a snow, and the wind was blowing - like the howling of a wolf - around me. Though, for me, I could hardly feel it; for the warm bodies of my family were surrounding me in a close suffering shuffle towards the gaping and inviting double doors. Through the quiet scraping of shoes and the muffled tears of sorrow, I could hear the knell of the church bells echoing around me. As my body entered the buidling of emence walls of stained glass, a mild change in volume of the conversation startled me to raise my eyes to an open-armed statue of the Virgin Mary; Joseph next to her, and a glowing stained glass portrait of who, I was always told, was my savior. From there he stared down upon me with a crown of thorns, his bloodied hands and feet, dripping amid the coarse surfaces of driven nails.

The priest stood before us and began his teachings from the book. I'd heard them so many times that I could absent mindedly listen and respond on queue without any of my own notable loss of devotion by those around me; I fooled them and myself - it's amazing what a great deal of repetition can do. To the echo of the droaning group, I could see flocks of birds shadowed on the windows of more stained glass. Each flock drifting by so quickly in search of food, or shelter from this day.

It was odd to me, when the preacher began his homily. Not that I hadn't expected it at that very moment in the process of this mass, but that his subject seemed almost haunting. He began: "I want to talk about the birds. Do you ever just notice the birds on any given day?" I had thought to myself: yes, of course I do. My eyes became more transfixed on the alter and pulpit, where the preist stood continuing his words of individual wisdom. Though, my ears had closed and my mind had wandered, I knew what he was going to say; I knew it all.

In this oblivion of self-awareness, I could hear my thoughts echoing through my mind; just as the echos of the preist's voice filled the hollow tall spaces of the church. Each consonant, each vowel, and each breath slowly found its way from one surface to the next until they slowly filtered through my ears. I heard these words, ever-so vacantly. My eyes would turn, from time to time, to the stained glass, looking for more birds. Almost faithfully to my desires would I see other small groups, or perhaps one lone scavenger. It was almost as if my uncle was peering into my mind - from beyond - and granting my wish to see more.

More of the surmon would pass without my attention. It was not as though I didn't care, but I wanted so badly to feel. So badly to be part of a faith again. Be part of something in which I'd been participating from the time of my baptism until now, but for half-a-life ago had abandoned when I'd heard the news of Angel's suicide. It was at this moment that I remembered what the preist had said prior to entering towards the rows of wooden pews and marble columns of the church; In baptism my uncle Dante had died and been resurrected to a new life. Maybe that was the key for which I'd been searching so long... Resurrection; to be reborn.
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Shaker Man. [21 Mar 2004|03:18am]

[ mood | exanimate ]

A flithy blur of regret,
I step towards you with naked intent.
My cheap smile,
smooth as fake silk and just as geniune.

I say what you want to hear,
perfection for a night with unceasing movement.

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Won a tournament against himself. [13 Mar 2004|01:59am]

[ mood | blah ]

Bill Brasky was born at 4 feet and 8 inches.
He can tear a bible with his bare hands.
To my man! Bill Brasky!
He was born deaf in one ear and missing the other!
He can't hear many sounds but he can hear heat!
I once went out skying with Bill, he forgot his, peeled the bark off a tree with his teeth, he skiied for 3 days without a boat to drag him!
Bill Brasky once swallowed a rattlesnake and a mongoose whole, just so they would fight in his gut!
To Bill Brasky!!

I once saw Bill Brasky Kill a man with his knuckles, bring him back to life and kill him again!
To Bill Brasky!

I was with Bill the time he saved the world from Hitler...
To Bill Brasky!!

Bill Brasky is 7'13 feet tall with teeth made out of solid copper and a tongue made out of titanium!
Bill Brasky can open caskets while they're still underground!
I once saw Bill Brasky wear a Lion's skin, while it was still alive!!!
To Bill Brasky!!

To Bill Brasky! The man who, when in prison made a 5 foot long machete out of saliva and air!
Brasky is the only man who can see Ultra Violet light and fight with it!
To Bill Brasky!

Bill Brasky once created the extinct Dodo with his mind, ate it and temporarily gained the ability to fly!
I once heard Bill Brasky swear at a Dinosaur in it's own language!

To Bill Brasky!! Bill Brasky once leapt across the Grand Canyon using Evil Kenivel's corpse!!
Bill was the secret love child of famed Soothsayer Nostradamus and talk show queen Oprah Winfrey.
Bill Brasky was born with the ability to change the color of his skin to perfectly blend in with his surroundings.

To Bill Brasky!!
I once heard that Bill Brasky fought off Satan with both his hands tied behind his back and sodomized him.
To Bill Brasky!
The son of a gun who uses Telephone cables to floss and hubcaps as pocket change!! To Bill Brasky!!

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A cheap rip-off of Dave Mathews song [13 Mar 2004|01:57am]

[ mood | bored ]

I swear, I cried the first time I saw them. Your grey blue eyes.
Malevolent plans to torture me, plotted by your grey blue eyes.
I fell in love and lost the love, for your grey blue eyes.
Gentle memories, only of your grey blue eyes.
Lift the spell, lift the curse, of your grey blue eyes.
I felt so happy, when I stared into your grey blue eyes.
Renounce eternity for only a minute with your grey blue eyes.
Manipulated in lust, by your grey blue eyes.
I would miss you, but all I can remember are your grey blue eyes.
I will suffer, in the name of your grey blue eyes.
You broke my heart, you saved my soul, all with your grey blue eyes.
I will die, for your grey blue eyes.

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Gray. [13 Mar 2004|01:33am]

[ mood | nervous ]

A meaningless gesture turned to gold.
The static crackle as the carpet passes under you,
swagger, a wave and a smile.
You can not be real.

A conscious effort to retain it all.
Your memory fades like so many pictures left in the sun,
A cashew for all to love, but I lease.
I'm the consequence of a coincidence from a joke.

You alloy with others but return to me.

Odd blessing caused by former use.
My telecast has run dry and you need answers.
I binge on your fun-sized problems.
Self-Imposed makes you a martyr.

The same gray in your eyes as the city we met in.
My vague repressions somehow consoling your past.

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on an afternoon.... [03 Oct 2003|05:20pm]

[ mood | exhausted ]

The wet heat toook me as I walked out of the library. Walking across the grass I thought many things at once, as one often does. The dark clouds overhead we the ominous foreshadowing that the concentrated heat on the pavement would soon be released with the baptism that would come from above and the heat that would come up to greet me by opening up my pores and calling to the water I held within to cool my rapidly warming skin.

In my car the heat is a little more vicious. I can literally feel my skin opening up in the quite of autumn. In this exposure I wonder what is to become of us? To become of you and me, rather, because the "us" has been eroded to a point of undistinguishable disfiguring from which there seems to be no return. As such, we are forced to carry on towards the onimous rain, and cold, and blooming that we will meet in seperate and individual ways.

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[22 Aug 2003|08:33pm]

Watching lightning flashing
She remembers his sad eyes
She smiles a little
In fondness, not regret

Watching lighting flashing,
She worries for her friend
And wishes him sweet dreams
Far away from memory
1 mark| tally up

this just kinda came out the other day... [14 Aug 2003|06:26pm]

[ mood | relaxed ]

i wonder if i'm not obscure enough when writing. i'm aware that i don't have to be, but the best art is. i don't write for myself, i guess i write for the world? oh, who knows...


it's the first time in two years
that we've missed this small day
and i really can't say much
i had my own escapade
this day we viewed with special reverence
and we've watched it decay away
and we watched you...
dissapear with your boy
as long as it's what you want
please just don't haunt me
like thisi had no escapade
just another shot
at a not-you
but with
too true new feelings and..
just where did you go?
where did i go?
where did the things we hold dear
store off to?
and it's just old news now
no reason to beat around
and i just have no shot
with this girl-not-you

1 mark| tally up

[12 Aug 2003|12:30am]

rip my heart out,
face it, you want to see me bleed.
you want to see the look of surprise on my face as the last breath escapes my drowning lungs, damp with the morning air.
i exhale the last,
i say your name.

you do not move, yet, you gaze into my eyes.
the cold blue ice yours have formed amaze me.
the slickness of the slippery cerulean ice shines with abandonment,
are you alone? are you alive?

the rain falling from the sky is not something new to me, yet the feeling on my skin is new. it crashes to earth like rocketships, the fires blaze behind them, but no one sees them, as they are disguised by the unusual beauty that is the rain.
i inhale, i breathe in life,
suck the last drops of moisture from the air as they turn to fire, clawing at my throat, and grasping my neck,
i choke, as i exhale.

and the whiteness blinds me,
the murderous kiss, the scarring touch of your lips to mine.
they burn, they sting,they usher in another breath.
how will i think of you as you pull me from the depths of the well? will you look into my eyes knowing i will soon bleed for you?
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something i wrote... [11 Aug 2003|04:34am]

[ mood | exhausted ]

i don't think you fully understand how you crush me with your words,
common sense forgotten as the time slips from your hands like the sand of an hourglass.
keep the shells you find left in your palms as memories.

soon, the time will come where you awake alone in the darkness,
and turn around only to discover orange flames embracing the tinfoil bridges you've constructed in the past.
calling to me from the bridge,
as the ashes and embers fall upon my head.
my hair is burning,
my skin is burning,
my flesh is being shed for you.
don't you see it?
my blood is being spilt for you.
if only you could see it.

And, my life exists on line between the darkness and the light.
i wish i could let you see me before i pull myself under night.
but it's too late, as i am already deep in the forest,
my own midnight monsters already run amoc,
they escape from under the beds of the innocent as i am drowned in my daydreams.
their fields blazing in fire,
their lives hang in the balance, but the scales are already tipped.
and who will be the one to tame them?
and for now i have no other descision,
no dimly lit exits through the corridors of my life,
i am compelled to remain,
and be,
i am unveiled for all.
i cannot hide the black tears on my face...
nor my blood that i have poured onto my own hands.

tally up

[19 Jun 2003|02:58pm]

Music fills the air as she pushes her grocery cart down each aisle. It's that really annoying music that they always play in grocery stores, as if they are trying to make it drive you crazy so you grab your can of peas and get out of there as fast as you can to escape the awfulness of twisted melodies that were once familiar and beloved. But she doesn't hear the music, deep in thought, as she slowly pushes her grocery cart down each aisle, examining each label carefully before she puts any item in her cart. The grocery store is a strange place, where strangers stand next to each other examining the most intimate and embarassing of items on their chicken-scratch paper lists, and never looking at the person who stands beside them with a chicken-scratch list of their own. She, for example, doesn't even glance at the women next to her as they select their cans of diet shakes. A common thread units them in the quest for good health, and yet they ignore that thread.
Her cart filled with provisions, she goes to the check-out line and stands there silently as the chatty cashier rings everything up. But all of a sudden, something captures her attention.
1 mark| tally up

haven't posted anything here for a while... [12 Jun 2003|10:45pm]

[ mood | weird ]

these are some lyrics i wrote recently. i call this song "trinket of Pain" give the feedback, please...

i hold you up so high
and i'm too stupid to show
stupid to make you see
this wasn't what i mean
what you see as rejections
i'm just trying to save us

but i keep messing up
you just keep
blaming yourself
telling me
that i never loved you
and whipping out the evidence

and i and i
will never let go
of of what
i know to be true
and i will
show you
that you are butiful
that you are new

you heart cries mercy
your flesh calls me
your mind is
somewhere in the middle
and my voice in between

but i keep messing up
you just keep
blaming yourself
telling me
that i never loved you
and whipping out the evidence

and i and i
will never let go
of of what
i know to be true
and i will
show you
that you are butiful
that you are new

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[25 Apr 2003|01:23pm]

Ancient times evoke aged images of Sepia-toned grandness,built within the souls of people long gone.

/my random droplet for the day
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tonight tonight [14 Apr 2003|11:12pm]

[ mood | crushed ]

I reflected in the mirror,
My same green necklace,
My shoulders bare,
I fashion teeth marks,
I am still unencumbered,
No one to vouch for me
I only hear my own voice,
It echoes out from me; a foreign sound to be crisp in the air.
Forging new roads,
Leaving behind the past,
I am walking faster than shadows,
I am flirting with my own discretion,
I stare relentlessly at my figure,
It’s strange to reflect upon.
I have seen in dressed down to nothing,
I’ve seen it possessed,
I‘ve seen it observed,
But I reflect on it,
My figure full of mischief
It’s a new day to meet myself,
There is no one in my head talking to me
For today I’ve been speaking to ONLY myself.*~

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An Endless Place [05 Apr 2003|04:25pm]

My eyes are drowned with tears.
My heart is full of fears.
Have I made the same mistake again?
There is nothing to gain.
I am drowning,
I am not frowning.
Sinking to an endless place.

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Honor, Glory. [08 Mar 2003|05:59pm]

[ mood | All warm and fuzzy inside. ]

He slowly limps to a chair and sits.
He's an amputee, a grizzled man with a look of unbridled bitterness.
He sits with a hunch on his back and a chip on his shoulder. Angry at injustice and mad at life. His knee-nub juts out of his shorts. Amputee. Bomb. Mortar. Slice. Cut.
He stares at all passers by and sees phantoms. He sees Jameson in a young lawyer. Chung in a clerk. Davidoff in so many. Help. Death. Silence.
He slowly wipes his face, for lack of tears.
His heart beats, his blood circulates. Beside that, he's been dead for 30 years.
Grey eyes willingly blind because of their last sight. Flash. Light. Jameson.
He rests his back against the wall and holds out his stained hand. Sir. Help. Veteran.
Scared skin that tells tales he wishes to forget. Ideals that didn't include him.
The constant beating in his ears. A commemorative drum.
Blood rushing by, he wills it to stop. Pulse. Push. Stop.
The screams don't leave, that's his orchestra. That is what awaits him.
He doesn't sleep. The sound of all he's taken is unbearable. Tragedy. Screams. Orders.
He feels the heat, still. He still lives those days. He never left.
He knows each of his targets and will never forget. Safe. Mission. Blood.
He remembers the faces, those that still judge and torture him.
His eyelids close. His pulse slows. The drum dies.
He feels his scars being left behind. The change in his hand fall.
Slow darkness creeps over him. He sees it all happening in his mind.
He feels the small hands of children pulling him into the cold. His targets.

Maxus Samuelson died that day in Vietnam.
He was pronounced dead at 3:02:28am March 8th 2003.

1 mark| tally up

.Possible. [08 Mar 2003|04:43pm]

[ mood | indifferent ]

The main problem with being immortal is what to do with your time.
As an immortal you don't feel the same sense of urgency that most creatures have. You do what you can to fill in the hours but all in all it's a moot point. There isn't a collection I haven't completed. Worse that being immortal is that I don't have any special talent.
People usually say that never dying is impressive enough, but it doesn't quite make
the days go by. I see people cooking or singing and am often jealous. It's not that I can't make an omelette it's just that it never quite as good as I want it to be.

How rude of me. My name is Freland Arnical. No, it's not a joke so your laughing is
inappropriate. I became a very long time ago, longer than most galaxies have existed.
Beings like me aren't born,we just come into existance, we become. I am energy.
The prevailing theory is that the galaxy is expanding, well that's partially correct. I
Nice try though. Movement, thought, evolution, anything related to change is really an energy. This energy can often be consentrated and cause spurts in evolution, thought or great changes ,you didn't really think you all did that? The energy causes change and slowly causes the galaxy to expand, but after a while this energy collects in one spot for a long period of time. It creates what you call a black hole. If enough energy is collected by it, I become. Once it retracts to it's former retracts it's one being richer.

Like I was saying, the main problem with being immortal is what to do with your time. I mean sure, I could read or take some courses. Problem is that I most likely know how the book ends and I've mastered the course. I've done surprisingly little with my existence. It doesn't really bother me, it's not like my time is limited. I have all the time in.. well, anything. I once took a very interesting class on pottery, it was actually very relaxing. Sadly I outgrew the class rather quickly. Often times I'll just grab some malleable matter and create intricate beings, systems, life forms, conciousness. I usually get tired of them and seem to somehow missplace them. I remember that during one particularly dull week I created an entire living ecosystem. Planet, fauna, flora and all. It was very pretty in an Earthy kind of way.Oh and that's what I ended up calling it as well. It took me about six days and on the seventh. I went out to see that new movie that came out a while ago.

I remember that I tried several methods of developing the beings, I tried starting off with one pair but it didn't quite work. In the end the beings weren't smart enough and I couldn't spare enough energy to make them think. They became dull and eventually stopped doing anything, I made they're world to perfect and they were miserable.
I scrapped that and decided to start off with fungus. It's alive but barely, One of the
simplest life forms I had ever created. I invested a lot of energy into it and after
a few weeks a decent culture had formed. But I had apparently invested too much and the creatures had become too different. They slowly tore away at each other, granted it was much more entertaining than my initial try. But it seemed just as senseless and I've never been one to comform. I did notice that certain parts of that culture had high ammounts of energy growing naturally. What I did was start it off with the best of that last try and begin at the highes point in their civilization. It actually was doing really well but I missplaced it a while ago.


Well anyway, this is a bit I wrote and couldn't decide how to finish. Any ideas? I was also considering just cutting the last parragraph, putting some of it's ideas in the previous parragraph and calling it a day.

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