Thursday, November 20- emotions

       In conflict for the better part of a month, the situation had finally reached its break point. The massive mood swings from joyousness, to sadness, to disgust, then anger spoke of a deeper mental problem than simple change, but that is to be ignored. At the moment Fear was at the controls within the mind of this little girl, and he was, per usual, clinging on by a thread, not in complete control of himself, more of a disruptive creature than an instigator.  Anger was slowly rising up to take over, in his typical state of rage, unsatisfied with the job being done by Fear. When he reached Fear he grabbed him by the collar and flung him across the room, where he was subsequently knocked unconscious. With Anger at the helm, he did his usual overboard antics making the scene very uncomfortable, or infuriating depending on how one might react. In his usual fashion, Anger made one gesture too many and the grandness of the action knocked him off his perch. Sadness then grabbed hold of the controls and quickly steered away from the entire scene altogether. She sat the little girl in a corner and she pouted for ceaseless hours, wallowing in self-pity. Disgust, disgusted with this pathetic behavior quickly rose out of the shadows and took out Sadness with a quick blow to the head, then took over for herself. She forced the girl up and began berating her for how she had behaved, particularly in that moment of shallow self-pity and weeping. She berated the girl for her ragged appearance after tears had made her nose bright,cherry red, her eyes puffy and bloodshot, and her face in a twisted, lumpy expression. Her overlord, Hate, looked on with approval. One day, if she was capable of keeping control, she being Disgust, then he would take over and up the ante. Joy saw this and knew she had to change the situation quickly, or it would become rather dire. She grabbed disgust by the hair and dragged her to the ground, then took over the controls. The girl stopped her self-judgement and tried to look toward a brighter future. She looked back on a happier past, and felt contentment in these memories. She realized that she was no longer living with that which had given her such wondrous memories, and at that moment sadness quickly took over operation yet again. All four of the other emotions directly involved dove at her at once and the brawl continued. The never ending cycle of emotional change never ceased, much to the ire of Apathy, Hatred, and Benevolence, the three lords of the emotional states.  

Monday, November 17- Found Poem

        The vast majority imprisoned

        a conscious effort to be common

Barbed wires of duty

Made bitter in war

A unique kind of danger

invading homes of strangers

military service itself

schools training people to serve

To volunteer for a "vital" risk

Their lives counter to purpose

3,000: 6,000: 120,000 shot

moved to detention camps

from the beginning perceived

As a war task 

As strangers of war  

Friday, November 14 - Berlin Wall

       Markus was living in a two room apartment in West Berlin. He wasn't wealthy by any means, but he did well for himself, and never was lacking in an area of importance. A perfect image of the hard-working middle class man. He was sitting on his plush chair, looking at the news on his small TV in the living room/kitchen, the only room apart from the bedroom. He was not watching it, only staring blandly at the screen, lost in his own head. He was thinking of a friend from years past. They had been extremely close in their teenage years, before the wall kept them apart indefinitely. The day that East Berlin was cordoned off from the rest of the world, the two friends were heart-broken. As time passed, Markus began to create his own life, but his friend never completely left his mind. It was during this moment of contemplation and reflection that a report on the news caught his attention. It declared that at midnight, East Berliners, "citizens of the GDR" they called them, would be free to cross the border. Markus was taken aback. For nearly 30 years, the East and West had been separated; the Soviets seemed determined to keep the people of East Berlin under lock and key and wall. They were giving up? Markus was dubious, but hopeful. Could he perhaps unite with his long separated friend? He began making plans for that night.
        Near midnight, Markus joined the massive crowd of people flowing out into the streets, many of them with smiles on their faces, rejoicing the end of the internment of their fellow Germans. As he made his way toward the wall, which was not too far from his modest apartment, his feelings of doubt began to slip away, as the joyousness of the crowd became infectious. He gave in completely to hope, allowing himself to be optimistic about the future. He began running towards the wall shamelessly, releasing years of repressed emotion. When he got to the wall it was one minute past midnight. Thousands poured through the gates from the Eastern side, hugging friends, hugging strangers, all so glad to be freed from oppression. Markus was stricken with the starved quality of their bodies. He knew that things were worse on the eastern side, but not how much. He looked all night for his friend, well into the morning hours. At around 7:00 he gave up and went home for some rest, disappointed but not daunted. After a few hours rest, he went out again to look for his friend, going to several of the places they had frequented as young men. For days he searched, never finding him. He decided that the next day he would search the eastern side.
           Tobias had lived in East Germany his whole life. He had never even been to the western side, even when the wall had not existed. He was a guard in the service of the party, and he never wavered in his loyalty. He had killed other guards, policemen, and friends in service to the party, and did not regret a moment of it. He even owned a car, being deemed worthy of the honor for his impeccable standing amongst the party and his perfect service record. He wept when they announced the opening of the borders. He remained in his tiny one room tenement even when they opened. He stayed there for days, stubbornly waiting. He watched as thousands of East Germans made their way to the other side, and even hurled stones at them. Word quickly spread to avoid the street on which Tobias resided.
             About a week after the opening of the borders, and the subsequent destruction of the wall, Tobias heard a knock on the door. He opened the door, and there stood a man about his age, who seemed vaguely familiar...
           A sudden spike of pain erupted in his head, and he cried out.
         "Are you alright?" said Markus in concern, for it was Markus at the door.
         "Go away!" shouted Tobias.
         "What? Why? Don't you remember me?" asked Markus somewhat hurt by this unexpected outburst.
         "I don't know you, get out of my house!" he said still clutching his head.
         "Tobias... it's me." said Markus desperately. Tobias released his head, grabbed Markus by the collar and threw him forcefully out of the door.
        After the door slammed in his face, Markus began to doubt himself. He was so sure this was Tobias, his friend from years past. Was he wrong? He must have been. Tobias couldn't completely forget him, could he?
        Markus left the desolate complex of small tenements and made his way back to West Berlin. He decided to give up on the search. He was no detective, clearly. He would just have to hope Tobias was happy.
       In a few weeks the news would report that a former guard on the Berlin Wall had shot several people making their way to West Berlin, before turning the gun on himself. The identity of the shooter was unknown.

Thursday, November 13 – The Macabre Arts

People are staring up desperately towards a light just beyond their reach, utter despair etched across their faces. Behind the masses of emaciated bodies lies a wall constructed of human skulls. People cling to each other for comfort that refuses to come. Children weep in the arms of their mothers, while the mothers themselves hopelessly embrace their children with a look of such sorrow, one knows that they only wish they could save their children and know the more dreadful truth that they cannot.  Smoke rises up from a barrel of coals which bears the inscription SS, and etched into the wood just below the heel of one figure that looks more like a corpse than a man, is the Star of David.  

                This is the genocide of millions, summarized in one event. This is the final solution that brought only horror and grief. This is the holocaust. This is the gas chamber of some desolate concentration camp that would be better called a torture camp, where hatred is bred and allowed to flourish amongst the sadistic keepers of the helpless victims. Those caught in the chamber of death, who only moments before had prayed for death, now desperately cling to a life they know will soon end, realizing just how much they truly want to live, how much their instincts for survival still rule them. In pain from the hunger, the brutal gasses restricting their breath, they feel the ultimate torment, that of deprivation, of lacking. In their final moments, some weep and beg to be let live. Others stand stoically, attempting to be strong, the misery still clear in their expression.   All of them gasp for breath, less frequently as time goes on, until all drop dead from the poison pumped mercilessly into their lungs.

                The bodies will be used. They may be used as fuel, or soap, or even lampshades. Some will simply be thrown in ditches or ovens belching black and ominous smoke. In the end, everything throughout is a symbol of oppression, and for the more despairing among the oppressed, of hopelessness, of the end of a race, but more importantly, the end of a life. 

Wednesday, Novemeber 12- The Haunted House

        I have devoured countless tenants in my time. Each one ready to start a new life in my home, but never to leave again, In their deaths they join my pack and become one more force of destruction for the living within. People, pets, whatever else there may be, nothing living survives in this house. We feed on them physically and spiritually. Their fear adds flavor and the despair softens to a point of ripeness never achieved by the ripest of fruits. We are a force of nature, something indestructible and unstoppable, ever-growing and eternal. Those who join and become one with us are forever trapped within me. I, who delight in my sins, bring despair to all the rest within this consciousness. Weeping and gnashing of teeth, yes. I am hell on earth, I am the most evil of evils. I am more frightening than Satan, more twisted than the most damaged of psychopaths, and my urges to bite, twist, tear, and feed never cease. I welcome all within who wish to enter, but never let them leave. I am the House on Haunted Hill, The Cabin in the Woods, The home which devours and haunts and kills. I am the corrupter of souls, the creator of ghosts, and the instigator of spectral terror. Enter in, all who dare, grinning widely with a fang-filled face I wait. Until you are comfortable you are safe, but at that point, you become mine.  Forever in hell, forever in terror and grief and misery. Forever wishing and regretting, forever dying, forever in pain. Forever feeding me with all the horrible emotion with seeps off you like a black, odorous smoke. Feed me my children, your purpose is here.
        Fate has come knocking, Death strikes, and hell awaits. You are not the force you fancied. The reaper has come for all your souls, and the lake of fire will consume you when he's done. You've been nothing but a tool, an instrument of Death, the edge of his scythe for him to do his work. you are nothing more than a feather in the wind of fate, now blown towards your end. So mighty a monster in you day, now pride and excess have sealed your fate, locked away for the rest of your days. You imagined you were indestructible, a force of violent nature, something to be feared, something to last forever. Fool, your ceaseless babble of pride has come to its fruition, come and meet Death. The Reaper has arrived.
       NO! I will not fall, I'll fight even death. I'll defy fate, and I'll be their end. I'll become the new face of eternity. Never will I die. I'm not a tool; I'm a god! With forces behind me beyond number I will march and break the chains of this house to meet all your power and overcome. I am more than you could possibly know, I have evolved to more than you could ever fathom. Bow and beg, for I am not merciful.
        Your time is now.,your forces weak. You will be reaped.
        WHAT HAVE YOU DONE? Where are my souls, my armies of the dead? You cowards! Will you not fight?
         It is not necessary. You are now dead. Welcome to my army, monster.

Friday, November 7- That's Creepy

Open your eyes

the world is full of lies

spill it red my dear

how thrilling to be feared

One face rises above all

one race destined to fall

Eyes as black as coals 

Mouth opened wide to swallow whole

Come and dance this dance with me

we'll end the world with glad tidings

come and see this play play out

all the actors are in doubt

Live a life of death and see

all things come back and beg to me

my grin spread wide across my face

I devour all the weak, the base

Fires rising in delight

influenced to set it right

too mighty to avoid the bite

chaos runs rampant tonight

Anarchy, move out of the way

Kaos has come to rule the day

betrayal stings, but so do knives

Trample on their worthless lives

Come and dance this dance with me

we'll end the world with glad tidings

come and see this play play out

all the actors are in doubt

Live a life of death and see

all things come back and beg to me

my grin spread wide across my face

I devour all the weak, the base

Symbols fall as nations rise

all equal in my eyes

Peace is but a thin disguise

ripped apart in its demise

mobs and murder 

fear and doubt

insanity within 

without

Come and dance this dance with me

we'll end the world with glad tidings

come and see this play play out

all the actors are in doubt

Live a life of death and see

all things come back and beg to me

my grin spread wide across my face

I devour all the weak, the base